I have a soul and tongue but am not alive. Although i protect those who use me, i get stepped on and am looked down upon.

You can count on me, In a church or a tree, To give you direction Or number your sin

A box without hinges key or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid

No key of mine can open your locks; no hammer of mine will pound your nails; yet miles and miles will people flock to see a master use my scales.

I went into the woods and got it. Once I had it, I tried to find it. The more I looked for it, the less I wanted to have it. When at last I could not find it, I carried it home in my hand.