You have lived a long time in the mortal,
And wrought foolish things, I much fear;
But the summer of life is not ended,
And its fruits may be gathered, you know,
By all who will act on this maxim:
Water and weed as you go.
The field of this life is a broad one,
And much precious seed has been sown;
Some of it’s crushed by the wild weeds,
And some of it’s covered with stone;