I hurry up and rush about, I go and go until time runs out. I rush to a meeting, I know I hate, I kiss them goodbye, because I’m late.

But then I stop for a moment before I open the door, And I realize something that I didn’t before. My real success will not be measured now, But when they grow up and they take their bow.

I measure my success when I look into their eyes, When their hearts are filled with love, when their minds are wise.
When they respect others and they are kind, Then my success will be measured within my mind.

But when I meet God and He asks me what I’ve done, I’ll say, “You know, Lord, you, too, have a son.”
I would like to say, “Lord, I spent time with my boys, I fed them, loved them and shared in their joys.”

I’d like to say, “Lord, I did not rush about, I didn’t hurry to meetings and leave my kids out.” But I know I’d be lying and this I can not do, Not only would I know, but He would know, too.

I know He would judge me just as sure as I’m here, And I know I would tremble, shaking in fear. I know that I loved them, and taught them wrong from right, But that’s not enough, not in His sight.

Then He would look kindly into my eyes, Outstretching His hands, my tears, He dries. “My child,” he would say, “You know that it’s true, I, too, have a son and I love Him, too.”

“It’s true that you had quite little time, But don’t take it so hard; don’t be so sublime. I measure success not in time that you spend, but in the quality of time that you share with a friend.”

He takes me in His arms, knowing that I did my best, And He tells me, “You forgot something, you forgot the rest. You, little one, are a child of mine, too,