JT-44-OLD AGE.

OLD AGE.

My beauty fades, my eyes grow dim,
My frame must soon decay,
I feel that every active limb,
Must soon be lifeless clay.

This lamp of life that burns below,
Will soon exhaust, and die,
This vital fount shall cease to flow,
And all its streams be dry.

I will not tremble at the stroke,
If Christ but lend his aid,
Although the thread of life be broke,
This flesh in dust be laid.

And though this mortal frame repose,
Beneath the grassy clod,
My ransom’d soul shall rest with those
Who worship with their God.

Then it shall join in holy song,
In praises all divine,
With the triumphant heavenly throng,
In endless ages shine.