Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1905-01-17
Growing Old.

It would be difficult to find person
in middle life who takes solid comfort
in the reflection that he is growing old.
He doesn't feel so elated that he makes
q practice of sitting up nights to smile
over 1t.
When we pause for q moment to take
our bearings, and read the digits on the
last milestone that old Time has set up,
a scared feeling seizes US, and did we
not brace up and keep our pulses down
by the sheer force of an iron will, we
should break for the bushes and seek to
hide from omnipotent Time, as he goes
forth conquering and to conquer. That
| were useless, for he scoops us all in and
none are left behind. He never forgets,
and so it comes to pass that we are all
growing old together, except those who
have gone to take possession of their
goodly inheritance in that land of eternal
youth. He keeps to work upon us till
we get so worn and spiritless that we
make nc show at all in our conflict with
the armed rider of the pale horse.
Pass on, o Time! but don't hurry.
Take it easy! Keep cool! And be mig hty
careful how you handle US. Remember
Onr frame work is dust and frail as glass.
Pick us up tenderly, fashioned so slen-
derby, and don't let us drop. Deal gent
ly with us, Time, or as gentle as you
can under the circumstances.
Deny it as we may, the thought that
We are growing old is not the pleasant
est thought that comes our way. We
find ourselves saying as one said ancient
~: Lord, forsake me not when am
old" We turn instinctively and per-
sistently away from that time when the
"grasshopper is a burden, when the
sound of the grinding is low; when de-
sire fails because man goes to his long
home" We may smile in the very face
of the inevitable-and because inevi-
table we may just as well smile as to
sigh-we may put on gayety when we
find "silver thread among the gold';
we may even joke and laugh at old
Father Time when he plants the crows
feet around our eyes, deepens the lines
in our fading faces, and Sits the white
sand through his fingers on our hair,
but we don't like it all the same.
There are those who claim that they
would not shrink from the prospect OF
dissolution. We shall take
NO stock in that claim of one who takes
laughing gas or its equivalent when he
seeks the dentist. The fact is, none of us
even shrink from the old fashioned jump
ing tuothache when our teeth are sound
and we feel no twinge. There are those
who claim that death has no terrors for
them. 1t is we'll enough to say it when
full of blood and death seems afar off,
but should the grim messenger draw
near and mean business, we are inclined
to think that they-and we-might have
some such feelings as good King Heze-
kiah had when he reminded the Lord OF
his many excellent traits, hoping to gain
a reprieve thereby, when he turned his
back to the wall and wept, because he
was expecting so soon to mingle with
the elements. Well, that was all right.
He was simply true to his instincts, true
to the God-given love of life.
Even the Lord from Heaven had his
Gethsemane, and his human heart
shrank from the ordeal. The desire
went through and through his human
heart that the cup might pass from him.
Nevertheless, not as will, but as Thou
wilt" Is the servant above his master?
Is he stronger than his Lord that he
would not shrink? To all the living there
comes a Gethsemane, and only that
nevertheless" remOv the bitterness
and sweetens the draught.
JOHN.