Infirmities of age have not
As yet made me their prey;
In social life I sometimes feel
As one still young and gay. PSAS 17.1
My spirits buoyant, hopeful, free,
No could to intervene,
Till I’m a wonder to myself,
And ask what this can mean. PSAS 17.2
Is there a dark and heavy cloud,
Now gathering out of sight,
To come o’er this my cheerful path,
And turn it into night? PSAS 17.3
Well, be it so; I’ll now enjoy
Life’s blessings while I may,
And meet its changes as they come,
The footsteps of decay. PSAS 17.4
At seventy-six we might expect
Our life-lights to grow dim,
The slow-paced step and wasted form,
Though once erect and trim. PSAS 17.5
‘Tis nature’s course; time’s withering blight
Will come on all below.
Be ready then for any change
Time bids us undergo. PSAS 17.6
Then when this earth is made anew
All clothed in living green,
Where blight, decay, and care-worn brows
Are never to be seen, PSAS 17.7
We all shall bloom immortal, fair,
In Eden beauty dressed,
To share all Heaven’s eternal joys,
And be forever blessed. PSAS 18.1