From dawn to dusk, survival is key
Early rising to late resting, toiling becomes a curse
Even birds rose early to toil, nev’r late to rest
Of what is this to-and-fro a beatitude?
Man toils, his Appetite’s never saturated
Worn out like an aged skin,
Burn out like an old woman’s hairs
Such and such are the outlook of a toiling soul
Wearied in spirit, broken down in mind
His eyes sunken, his cheek bones prominent
Toiling is never a beatitude but a curse
Prosperity is by grace – God gives wealth
In this hustle, sacrifice not health for wealth
As I look up from the hill of hustle
Whence shall my help comes from?
In this hustle, I leave all to God to toil no more!