I laughed when I was twenty,
My life was froth so bright;
Time was mine for living,
For dancing in the light.
I worked when I was thirty,
So much to do and buy;
I had no time for worry
Nor duty to catch my eye.
I hurried, though, at forty,
My mark I sought to place
In prominent positions
And every lofty trace.
Success! I thought at fifty;
I've little more to want.
I scarcely could imagine
How much my boast would haunt.
The day that I turned sixty,
I noticed something strange;
My aches and pains were telling
Of time and loss and change.
My path stretched far behind me,
Ahead was a tapering strand;
And when I looked around me,
My name but written in sand.
At last I understood that life
By precious moments is tracked;
And hurtles on relentlessly
And cannot be turned back.
How many times I couldn't count
I'd said, dear Lord don't worry;
I know you have some work for me,
A moment more, then I'll hurry.
All those careless months and years
Had very little worth
While zealously I sought to find
The perfect life on earth.
As panic overcame me,
I cast about in vain
For reasons I could beg Him
To write my name again.
I fell upon my knees there
And sought His loving grace;
Entreating Him with promises,
Turn back to me His face.
And then He showed me sadly
Things He'd planned for me to do;
And all the years he'd given me
So I could see them through.
Hot tears of shame flowed down
My cheeks as then as last I knew,
I should have often inquired of Him
What plans for me He drew.
The acts of kindness, faith and love
He showed me never were done;
Instead I'd lived my life for me
And from His will I'd run.
The strangers who'd brushed by me,
Alone and sick and scared;
I should have told about Him,
Their burdens gladly shared.
I wept for all those wasted years
And in a dream so sweet;
I dreamed somehow I got them back
And laid them at His feet.
But ah, those years are gone for good
And won't again be chartered;
For sorrow's tears from wiser eyes
Cannot for time be bartered.
Yet hope springs up, all isn't lost!
His grace unbounded, free;
And Majesty with love unplumbed
Still welcome even me.
Though service to my Lord
And King abbreviated be;
Forgiven much and loving much,
I face eternity.
Helen Hamrick
©Copyright January 16, 2001
Non-commercial reprint okay
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