It’s not for the money, nor for fame,
It’s not for any personal gain.
It’s just for the love of fellowman,
It’s just to lend a helping hand.
It’s just to give a little of self,
That’s something you can’t buy with wealth.
It’s not for medals won with pride,
It’s just for the feeling deep inside.
It’s that reward deep in your heart,
It’s the feeling you have been a part,
Of helping others far and near, that makes you a volunteer.
Many will be shocked to find,
When the Day of Judgment nears,
That there’s a special place in Heaven
Set aside for Volunteers.
Furnished with big recliners,
Satin couches and footstools,
Where there are no committee chairmen,
No yard sales or rest area coffee to serve,
No library duty or bulletin assembly.
There will be nothing to print and staple,
Not one thing to fold and mail.
Telephone lists will be outlawed.
But a finger snap will bring
Cool drinks and gourmet dinners
And rare treats fit for a king.
You ask, “Who’ll serve these privileged few
And work for all they’re worth?”
Why, all those who reaped the benefits,
And not once volunteered on Earth.