Luke 16:12: Ye rich, your poverty confess

Ye rich, your poverty confess,
And low at Jesu's footstool bow.
Stewards of all ye here possess,
Proprietors of nothing now.
His goods as He directs employ,
And share at last your Master's joy.

Foreign and false the riches here
Make themselves wings, and fly away:
Who bears the Christian character
Disdains to court their longer stay,
Restores the momentary loan,
And only heaven he calls his own.

For those eternal things design'd
Which Jesus did for him procure,
He sets on them his heart and mind.
The riches great, and true, and sure.
The fund of true unfading bliss
Which Jesus made for ever his.