Some would gather money along the path of life,
Some would rather gather roses, and rest from worldly strife;
But I would rather gather children, from among the thorns of sin,
I would seek a golden curl, a freckled toothless grin.
For money cannot enter in the land of endless day.
And roses that are gathered soon will wilt away.
But oh, the laughing children, as I cross the sunset sea,
And the gates swing wide to Heaven. I can take them in with me!