When the Chickens Come Home to Roost

This old poem was requested lately, and two readers have kindly sent the words.  These verses are sometimes entitled “The Setting Up is Certain.”

You may take the world as it comes and goes,

And you will be sure to find

That fate will square the account she owes,

Whosoever comes out behind;

And all things bad that a man has done,

By whatsoever induced,

Return at last to him, one by one,

As the chickens come home to roost.

You may scrape and toil and pinch and save

While your hoarded wealth expands,

Till the cold, dark shadow o’ the grave

Is nearing your life’s last sands;

You will have your balances struck some night,

And you’ll find your hoard reduced,

You’ll view your life in another light

When the chickens come home to roost.

You can’t stint your soul and starve your heart

With the husks of a barren creed,

But Christ will know, if you play your part,

Will know in your hour of need.

And then as you wait for death to come,

What hope can there be deduced

From a creed alone?  You will lie there dumb

While your chickens come home to roost.

Sow as you will, there’s a time to reap

For the good and the bad as well;

And conscience, whether we wake or sleep,

Is either a heaven or hell;

And every wrong will find its place,

And every passion loosed

Drifts back and meets you face to face,

When the chickens come home to roost.

Whether you’re over or under the sod,

The result will be the same;

You cannot escape the hand of God

You must bear your sin and shame;

No matter what’s carved on a marble slab,

When the items are all produced,

You’ll find that Saint Peter was keeping tab,

And that chickens come home to roost.

-       Anonymous