ASHES AND FLAMES

Oftentimes we look with forebodings to the time of old age, forgetful that at eventide it shall be light.  To many saints of old age it is the choicest season in their lives.  A balmier air fans the mariner’s cheek as he nears the shore of immortality; fewer waves ruffle his sea, quiet reigns, deep, still, and solemn. From the altar of age, the ashes of the fire of youth are gone, but the flame of more earnest feeling remains.

–Author Unknown.