Hear this, all peoples—lend your ear, Both high and low, both far and near! My mouth shall speak a truth most wise, And chant dark riddles to the wise. Why fear when tyrants rise in pride? Why tremble when the rich deride? No wealth can ransom back the soul, Nor gold persuade the grave to hold. The wise must die, the fool as well, Their pomp and pride to dust will fall. Yet in their folly, still they trust Their lands and names to shield their dust. But man, though honored, cannot stay— Like beasts, he fades and melts away. This is the path of all who stray, Who trust themselves and not God’s way. Fear not the rich in mansions high, For death will strip their robes of pride. No wealth can buy eternal breath— The grave will silence all but death. Yet God will ransom me at last, From death’s dark grip His hand holds fast. So fear not fools who hoard their store— The soul lives on forevermore!
