1 Lay your treasures higher, safer
Than the golden stores of men,
Lest the coming day of terror
Sweep them from your keeping then.
Ere the busy hands are idle,
Ere the beating heart is still,
Bring some treasures to the Masters,
As you learn his royal will. Yes,
Lay your treasures higher, safer
Than the golden stores of men,
Lest the coming day of terror
Sweep them from your keeping then.
2 Send aloft each blessed moment
In some noble use to God;
Make the world to feel your presence,
Ere you lie beneath the sod.
Deeds of mercy, tears of pity,
Words of tenderness and love,
How they shine for aye and ever
In the Treasure-House above. Yes,
Send aloft each blessed moment
In some noble use to God;
Make the world to feel your presence,
Ere you lie beneath the sod.