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I cautious scanned my little life,I cautious scanned my little life
I cautious scanned my little life, I winnowed what would fade From what would last till heads like mine Should be a-dreaming laid.
I put the latter in a barn, The former blew away — I went one winter morning, And lo! my priceless hay
Was not upon the “‘scaffold”’, Was not upon the “beam”, And from a thriving farmer A cynic I became.
Whether a thief did it — Whether it was the wind — Whether Deity ’s guiltless My business is to find.
So I begin to ransack — How is it, Heart, with thee? Art thou within the little barn Love provided thee?
I carefully looked over my small life, I sorted out what would vanish From what would last until people like me Would be laid to rest dreaming.
I stored the lasting things in a barn, The things that would vanish blew away — I went one winter morning, And surprise! my precious hay
Was not on the platform, Was not on the beam, And from a successful farmer I became a doubter.
Whether someone stole it — Whether it was the wind — Whether God is not to blame It's my job to find out.
So I start to search — How are you, Heart? Are you inside the little barn That Love gave you?