Poem: What Do You Do?

I once came across three young men
working outside in the heat of the sun.
Each was performing the exact same labor
but I decided to ask the motive of each one.

"I am cutting some grass," said the first of his job
as he sleepily wiped sweat from his brow.
"I am earning six dollars an hour" said the next
pushing through till the job was over.

Then, to the third, I asked, "what do you do?"
He looked up, stood tall, and with pride
he said, "sorry, sir, I can't waste much time to chat,
for I'm pruning the lawn for a temple of God."

(Poem adapted from a story shared in General Conference.)