I grow old…I grow old…

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Yes, I grow old…But have I grown cold?

I can hear my voice speaking words, uncontrolled.

I do not want to grow old, sad and crabby;

Lord, grow me in your grace, that keeps one happy.

Even though my end may be in full sight,

Still, let me find my joy in this world’s delight.

Let me see my blessings for what they really are,

Not critical of issues both of near and of far.

Help me see the little things that brighten up the day–

The sunrise; the sunset, and fluffy clouds at play.

Let me hear the sound of my children laughing,

And let me still enjoy an afternoon of napping.

Fill me with a spirit of joy found deep within

That hangs on to happiness; not fickle like the wind.

Yes, I grow old…Yes, I grow old…

I will wear a smile as my story unfolds.