when age should give his words both weight and
wisdom. Lord, give me poverty and affliction, if it be thy will, but
save me, I pray, from this sad end. Far better that one die young,
than grow old against the grain. "Is life worth living?" the sages ask.
That depends on how one lives it. Lived aright, it is worth living, and
many such worlds as this beside. Otherwise 'tis not. Of right living,
the more the better; of wrong, the less. The life lived faithfully to
God, can never be too long; its opposite, too short.

Of the half-century, this day gone, one claim I can safely make--it was
not spent in idleness. The years to Satan's service given, were well to
his account put in; and those devoted to a better cause, I have tried
to give as faithfully to Him to whom they all belonged. For the years
in Satan's service spent, like Saul of Tarsus, I conscientious
ignorance plead. O'er eyes unused to heaven's light, sectarianism's
vail was thick. But no sooner was known the way of life, than in its
path I tried to walk; and in it have I tried to keep, till this good
day. Thus equally divided has the time been spent. Except the years of
childish innocence, twenty-five were in the service spent of him who
for this life pays the soul in spurious coin, and leaves it bankrupt in
the life beyond; while an equal number, praise the Lord, have a better
Master claimed. For the rest of life, be it long or short, the long
side will the right side be, while hitherto it otherwise has been. The
periods of service have not before been equally divided, nor will they
be again. But the sides have changed proportions, praise the Lord!
Should not this turning-point in life an epoch make? A half century,
and a half divided life, in one! Surely I shall not look upon its like
again.

The past few birthdays I have noted as those of former years were noted
not, and for reasons I need hardly state. The first that deep
impression on the mind did make since apprehension was that each would
be the last, was three years ago, amid the orange groves of the sunny
South. The day was lovely as the Queen of May; and friends more lovely
than the day, made it a time not to be forgotten. The feasting of the
outer man was the lesser part of the day's enjoyment. "The feast of
reason and the flow of soul" was chief. Three of us were seeking health
in that sunny land. Two have found it, but not there. In a fairer land
by far than this world can boast, did they find the f