GROWING YOUNG

When we are up in years a bit
They say we're growing old,
That all the best in life has passed, --
It's many times been told.

But all the best has not yet passed
For priceless things endure.
Our love, and trust,-and hope, and faith
Are Just as strong and pure.

The spring and summer months have flown
But Oh! the autumn gold!
With God's fulfillment in each heart
With more than it can hold.

Our store of memories alone
Are gems to which we cling.
The tresaures of the human heart
A ransom for a king.

Our bodies may not active be
As they were years ago,
Our joints a little stiff perhaps,
Our steps a little slow.

Our hearing may not be acute,
Our figures not as trim,
Our hair may turn to snowy white,
Our sight a little dim.

But what of that? this frail old shell
Will soon be laid aside,
And in exchange our Lord will give
Us one that's glorified.

So let them think we're growing old
Or utter it with tongue,
Perhaps in that fair land above
We'll all be growing young.

Vergie B. Greer