You’re Growing Old?

 

You’re growing old? Your task is done?

And now you rest with setting sun,

Lamenting that your work is o’er,

That you can’t labor anymore?

 

Ah, weary not to do God’s will!

Go, labor on, your task fulfill.

You’ll always have the Master’s care–

The oldest trees some fruit must bear.

 

For age has labors none the less

Than youth, though in another dress.

As evening twilight fades away

New glories shine, not seen by day.

Poet unknown

(Old Age, L. Harvey and G. B. Tait)