This world's prizes may decay.
Medals tarnish. Ribbons fade.
Cash gets spent. Fame goes away.
And even if the prize should last,
That trophy won in second grade
Won't be much once childhood's past.
Each later prize up on a stage
(Our glory, all our pride displayed)
Becomes a footnote on a page.
Simple service done in love,
Humble things kind hands have made,
Will accrue in banks above.
but for the food that lasts for eternal life,
which the Son of Man will give you,
because God the Father has set
His seal of approval on Him.
--Jesus, in John 6:27 HCSB
Whatever you do, do it enthusiastically,
as something done for the Lord and not for men,
knowing that you will receive the reward
of an inheritance from the Lord.
You serve the Lord Christ.
--Colossians 3:23 HCSB
When you enter my home, you may see a fancy golden cord, complete with tassels, looped around the stair rail post. It originally was to signify that I'd graduated with honors. I kept it in a box for many years, but now leave it out--not to be seen, but so I can use it for playing with the cat. The tassels are getting a bit frayed, but they bring pleasure to me and to the cat.
The image that prompted this poem is courtesy Magpie Tales. Follow that link for other people's thoughts on the image.