Glory be to him whose power working in us.
Can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.
It has always been thus.
Its power so gentle if we meet it, it will just happen.

I once saw an old man clothed in white.
His speech so slurred I could hardly hear him.
But here in Lourdes his dignity was in plain sight.
To courage his conduct a hymn.

When I am old will I fight to the end.
Against infirmity will I surrender the battle.
Pride will I finally suspend.
Or will I continue to wave my little ego‘s rattle.

Yet once I saw this old man, his body wrecked.
His life force but not his spirit almost checked.