Under the Sun
Jerome

An old man stands alone by the sea
His mind is wandering – flying free
He stares blindly at the midnight sky
No one is sure just where his thoughts lie

The great futility of his life's gain
Meaningless accomplishments all seem vain
Contemplating the days of his youth
Wondering, pondering, "what is truth?"

Ages of toil, a means for what end?
Life is a game that no man can win
A lifetime of pleasure carries its fee
Indulgence – an empty philosophy

When time takes its toll and he is no more
What will he be remembered for?
Will it be all the deeds that he's done
Or will it be his belief in the Son?

What will matter to them is what mattered to him –
The nail-scarred hands of a carpenter man.