The Builder
 

      I watched them tearing a building down,
      A gang of men in a busy town.
      With a ho-heave-ho and a lusty yell,
      They swung the beams and the side walls fell

      I asked the foreman, Are these men skilled,
      The kind you'd hire were you to build?
      He laughed and said, Why, no indeed!
      Just common laborers are all I need.

      They can easily wreck in a day or two
      What builders have taken years to do.
      And I thought to myself as I went my way:
      What part in the game of life do I play?

      Am I a builder who works with care,
      measuring life by the rule and square?
      Am I shaping my deeds to a well-made plan,
      patiently doing the best I can?

      Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,
      Content with the labor of tearing down?