Give Me No Riches

Give me no riches, which make themselves wings,
And soar to heaven as an eagle in flight.
Give me not treasures of earthen things,
Those moth-eaten vessels in which fools delight.
As the flower of grass, the rich man passeth away;
His pelf, his honor – they leave him at the grave.
No child of God could ever truly say,
That rusted riches would his soul save.
Yet wealth brings esteem, and vanity, and pride,
For heavy delusions spring from money's fount.
A prince of avarice, according to those who have lied,
As a "good man", him the world must count.
Yet he that loveth silver, shall not with silver be pleased;
Neither will lovers of abundance by their increase be appeased.