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Remember your Creator,
From those days back in your youth;
Back when the vitiator,
The evil days were uncouth.
The years draw near that you say,
You have no pleasure in them;
A time you no longer stray,
Fearful that God would condemn.
When the sun would not grow dark,
As well as the moon and stars;
And when the clouds would embark,
After the rain would leave scars.
When the keepers of the house,
Tremble as strong men are bent;
Grinders cease while the spouse,
Windows are dimmed from light sent.
The doors on the street are shut,
The sound of grinding is low;
Daughters were stuck in a rut,
They had sung songs that were slow.
Rise to the sound of a bird,
Fearing not of what is high;
To desires of the Word,
The eternal home is nigh.
Mourners go about the street.
As the dust returns to earth;
As the Lord is there to greet,
The spirit in a new birth.
Copyright © 2024 Richard Newton Sherrer
The Twilight of Life
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