Classic Poem

Growing old but not retiring,
For the battle still is on;
Going on without relenting
Till the final victory's won.
Ever on, nor think of resting,
For the battle rages still,
And my Saviour still is with me
And I seek to do His will.

Years roll by, the body weakens,
But the spirit still is young;
Breath of God — it never ages,
Is eternal, ever strong.
Rather, year by year it strengthens,
Gaining o'er the things of sense.
By Thy Spirit, lead my spirit,
Saviour, till Thou call me hence.

Things of earth decrease in value,
Brighter shines the light above;
Less the power of human hatred,
Sweeter far the Saviour's love.
Let me tell it to the needy,
Far and wide Thy worth proclaim;
That my closing years may praise Thee —
Glorify Thy blessed name.

Let me labor in Thy harvest
More than ever in the past,
Reaping in what Thou hast planted,
Till I dwell with Thee at last;
That before Thy throne eternal
I may have some fruit to bring,
Not my work — the fruit of Calvary,
All Thine own, my Lord and King.