grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
Who knows but the world may end tonight
Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.
They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.
I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
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