Some would gather money
Along the path of life
Some would gather roses
And rest from worldly strife
But I would gather children
From among the thorns of sin
I would seek a golden curl
And a freckled, toothless grin
For money cannot enter
In that land of endless day
And roses that are gathered
Soon will wilt along the way
But oh, the laughing children
As I cross the sunset sea
And the gates swing wide to heaven
I can take them in with me!