if old age leaves irrelevance while frosting white my hair.
A sharp tongue and a dull mind make me superfluous to
my children grown who ought to seek my gentle helpful view.
Oh tell me not the pageant of my days is tinseled bauble --
that I will be remembered for but folly and thin squabble!
Have the higher virtues left no mark upon my brow?
Can I not some insight leave, my children to endow?
I've played the fool too often; now I sit down by the gate --
a supplicant, a mendicant, a humbled blatherskate.
My nothingness is evident for everyone to see --
please, Savior, reassure me I am meaningful to thee!
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