Lord, thou knows better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful, but not moody, helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knows Lord that I want a few friends at the end,

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details, give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me endure them with patience.

I dare not…