I'm greedy for the treasures from on high,
I have God's love, but somehow I want more,
for them I'll work and pray or beg or buy,
I won't just knock, I'll pound upon the door.
If I could get away with it, I'd steal
those precious jewels from the bank above,
and stash the timeless spiritual loot that's real,
to funnel it to everyone I love.
I seek the secret finest gold and search
for things that thieves can't break or take or trace,
the sacred riches mostly mined in church,
each gem of them bright polished by God's grace.
Please, Christ, give me the key, a clumsy clod,
to open up the treasure chest of God.
-- by Pete Voelz 3/09
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