ADDRESS TO GRAY HAIR.
Thou silvery braid, now banded o'er my brow,
Before thy monitory voice I bow;
Obedient to thy mandate, youth forget,
And strive thy word to hear without regret.
Why should regret attend that onward change,
Which tells that time is coming to its range—
Its border line, which God approves and seals,
As crown of glory to the man who feels
Content in ways of righteousness to dwell?
To such gray hair does not of weakness tell;
But rays of glory light its silv'ry tint,
And change its summons to a gentle hint
That time from all is fading fast away,
But that to some its end is lasting day;
And that the angels view its pure white band,
As seal of glory from their master's hand,
And closer draw, the near ripe fruit to shield,
Until to heaven its produce they can yield.