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From The Treasury of David by Spurgeon, Psalm 39:6.

Verse 6. Surely every man walketh in a vain shew. Life is but a passing pageant. This alone is sure, that nothing is sure. All around us shadows mock us; we walk among them, and too many live for them as if the mocking images were substantial; acting their borrowed parts with zeal fit only to be spent on realities, and lost upon the phantoms of this passing scene. Worldly men walk like travellers in a mirage, deluded, duped, deceived, soon to be filled with disappointment and despair. Surely they are disquieted in vain. Men fret, and fume, and worry, and all for mere nothing. They are shadows pursuing shadows, while death pursues them. He who toils and contrives, and wearies himself for gold, for fame, for rank, even if he wins his desire, finds at the end of his labour lost; for like the treasure of the miser's dream, it all vanishes when the man awakes in the world of reality. Read well this text, and then listen to the clamour of the market, the hum of the exchange, the din of the city streets, and remember that all this noise (for so the word means), this breach of quiet, is made about unsubstantial, fleeting vanities. Broken rest, anxious fear, over worked brain, failing mind, lunacy, these are the steps in the process of disquieting with many, and all to be rich, or, in other words, to load one's self with the thick clay; clay, too, which a man must leave so soon. He heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them. He misses often the result of his ventures, for there are many slips between the cup and the lips. His wheat is sheaved, but an interloping robber bears it away—as often happens with the poor Eastern husbandman; or, the wheat is even stored, but the invader feasts thereon. Many work for others all unknown to them. Especially does this verse refer to those all gathering muckrakes, who in due time are succeeded by all scattering forks, which scatter riches as profusely as their sires gathered them parsimoniously. We know not our heirs, for our children die, and strangers fill the old ancestral halls; estates change hands, and entail, though riveted with a thousand bonds, yields to the corroding power of time. Men rise up early and sit up late to build a house, and then the stranger tramps along its passages, laughs in its chambers, and forgetful of its first builder, calls it all his own. Here is one of the evils under the sun for which no remedy can be prescribed.

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Homemaking Poems

A Homemaker's Prayer
by Melissa M.
1-6-12

Let me be a homemaker,
Not a homebreaker....
Let me never dread
Sweeping cobwebs overhead
Or polishing panes distressed
'Til they look their shiny best.
Let me delight to see
The counters clean and free
As often as the sun
Makes its glad upward run.
Let me cook with flair
And, yes, bathe all in prayer.
Let not a shrill, rash word
From my mouth ever be heard,
But may words of wisdom and grace
Always take their place.
A million little tasks,
Whatever my mother asks,
Are not so small after all
When done to honor the Creator of all.

~

And this one is a little rougher, but still has some good points. Maybe I need to work on it some more.
It could easily be misunderstood; I know there is much more a homemaker can do than just cleaning and cooking. I meant that the home should be our main focus and sphere, and fame is not what we should be seeking for. (To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed. - Titus 2:5)

Keeper at Home
1-4-12

My hands are soapy,
Spattered with crumbs.
A thousand stains
Return each night and day.
I sigh and think
Of building bridges,
Of speeches grand
And polished words
Written 'neath covers gold.
Of mission huts
In tribal lands,
And sculptures of heroic bands.
Yet where would all that
Leave the home? I ask.
Wounded knees would
Remain unpatched.
Kitchen and tub
And floors unmatched
In dirt anywhere world-wide.
I'd bounce from place to place,
Yet have no coming home,
No lived-in nooks,
No loving looks,
No neatness or flourish.
Do these matter in spite of it all?
Does the daily grind at home
Make up a job as important
As others?
Just ask the ones
Whose mothers prayed
And wept and played
And sang and stayed
And bought and made
And never complained,
Always sought good and right.
Was it worth the fight?
My mother is such,
And where would I be
Without her sweet touch
Of diligence and love?
She bravely went on,
Followed husband's lead
As if solemnly decreed...
Perhaps it was, indeed.
My hands are slimy,
Covered in grime.
Is it worth my time?
I'll let you answer this time.

Quotes from The Treasury of David

I decided this year I'd definitely try to finish reading the first volume of The Treasury of David, and upon looking at where I had been several months ago, I discovered some more gems, some which I had gone by without sharing.  Psalm 37 and these comments were just what my fretful self needed--my own personal gift from God! May they bless you, as well.

Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily shalt be fed. - Psalm 37:3

'Faith cures fretting.  Sight is cross-eyed, and views things only as they seem, hence her envy; faith has clearer optics to behold things as they really are, hence her peace.'

'Very much of our outward depends upon the inward; where there is heaven in the heart there will be heaven in the house.'

Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass. - Psalm 37:7

'Determine, let the wicked succeed as they may, that you will treat the matter with indifference, and never allow a question to be raised as to the righteousness and goodness of the Lord.  What if wicked devices succeed and your own plans are defeated!  there is more of the love of God in your defeats than in the successes of the wicked.'

Wait on the LORD, and keep his way, and he shall exalt thee to inherit the land: when the wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it.

"Wait on the Lord."  We have here the eighth precept, and it is a lofty eminence to attain to.  Tarry the Lord's leisure.  Wait in obedience as a servant, in hope as an heir, in expectation as a believer.  This little word "wait" is easy to say, but hard to carry out, yet faith must do it.  "And keep his way."  Continue in the narrow path; let no haste for riches or ease cause unholy action.  Let your motto be, "On, on, on," Never flag, or dream of turning aside.  "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved."  "And he shall exalt thee to inherit the land."  Thou shalt have all of earthly good which is really good, and of heavenly good there shall be no stint.'

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace.

'With believers it may rain in the morning, thunder at midday, and pour in torrents in the afternoon, but it must clear up ere the sun goes down.  War may last till our last hour, but then we shall hear the last of it.'