Lord, Thou knowest better than I, that I am growing older.
Keep me from getting too talkative and, particularly from the fatal habit, of thinking I must say something on every one else’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 knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end. Keep my mind free from recital of endless details, give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my many aches and pains. They are increasing and my rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of other people’s pains. Help me to endure them. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. Help me to extract all possible fun out of life.
There are many funny things around us and I don’t want to miss any.
