Growing Old “I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken” (Psalm 37:25). They call it going down the hill, when we are growing old, They say in mournful accents that, “Our tale is told.” They sigh when talking of the past, the days that used to be, As if the future were not bright with immortality. But oh, it is not going down, but climbing high and higher, Until we almost see the mansions that out souls desire. For if the natural eye grows dim, it is but dim to earth, While the eye of faith grows keener to perceive the Saviour’s worth. Who would exchange for shooting blade, the waving, golden grain, Or when the corn is fully ripe, would wish it green again? And who would wish the hoary head, found in the ways of truth, To be again encircled with the sunny looks of youth? For though in truth the outward man must perish and decay, The inward man shall be renewed by grace, from day to day. They who are planted by the Lord, unshaken by their root, E'en in old age shall flourish still, and bring forth fruit. C.H. Krause

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