So what is one man’s life, Oh Lord,
But thirty simple silver coins:
An honest shepherd’s promised wage,
To one who cannot see the worth,
Incomp’rable, of one who’s shared
His cup and dish? Is money all
That friend can see? Who deems, we find,
A friendship poor commodity?
What price to buy a potter’s field,
Who works the clay just as he wills
To form an earthen vessel meant
To hold its chrism and to crack
And bless the dusty feet of God?
What price for foreign souls to find
A place of rest in Israel
But thirty simple silver coins.
- Br. David Hirt