LORD, you know, better than I do myself, that I am growing older and will some day be old.
Keep me from getting talkative and particularly from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody: helpful, but not bossy.
With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but you know, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details: give me wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips from my aches and pains. They are increasing and my love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of others’ pains. Help me to endure them with patience.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonable and sweet. I do not want to be a saint. Some of them are hard to live with: but a sour old woman is the crowning work of the devil.
Help me to extract all possible fun out of life. There are so many funny things around us and I do not want to miss any of them.
(Found on the internet).
The feature image for this post is “Codex Durlach 2 11v”, Wikicommons (P.D.)