Pāmojja: Gladness
Pāmojja is the light gladness that rises from honest effort. Take up "rejoice in his own works" and the joy sits inside the working, in the hands themselves, not stored up as a prize at the far end. The task need not be grand for this; sweeping a floor or mending a fence carries it as well as any great labor. Like the warmth of wiping your hands after a full day's work, the gladness comes from the doing while you are still in it.
Kammassakatā: Ownership of one's deeds
Kammassakatā means your deeds are yours in a way nothing outside you can be. Hear "his own works... that is his portion," and let "portion" slide from an inherited slice of land or purse over to the doing itself, since your actions are the one estate fully your own. Titles change hands and coins scatter, yet the deed done stays with the one who did it. As with any field, you harvest what your own hands have sown.
Santuṭṭhi: Contentment
Santuṭṭhi is the quiet ease of finding your share enough. "That is his portion" turns into an invitation: receive the plate set before you and eat it with relish, rather than craning after the next person's or after tomorrow's. Chasing a larger helping, a man lets his own go cold, while contentment warms both hands on the bowl he already holds.
Sandiṭṭhika: Visible here and now
Sandiṭṭhika points to good you can see working right here in this life. The joy of the day's labor stays in plain sight and within reach, while whatever comes "after him" waits behind a closed door. A lamp lights the room you stand in and leaves the hallway beyond it dark, so warm yourself at the light already in hand.
Maraṇasati: Mindfulness of death
Maraṇasati is holding your own death softly in view. No one can lead a person "to see what shall be after him," since death is the wall the eyes cannot climb over. Held gently, that wall sweetens rather than sours the hours standing before it. Knowing the sun will set, you finish the work by the daylight you are given and let the rest go.