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Father, you're aged, we very well know,
Many years you have labored with the plow and hoe;
A good, honest life you have led all your days,
You're humble and true in your majestic ways.
You're not proud or mighty, I can plainly see, -
You're footsteps are lively, active and free;
The pure whispering breeze of the cool sunny west,
Whispers thus gently, You are one of the blest.
Like ancient Apostles, in Gospel you're sound.
Your equals in faith are few to be found.
You scarcely can write your name with a pen,
Likewise Peter, James and John--great fishermen.
Your family was large when on the old farm,
And now they are scattered, of course that's no harm,
Your family's now larger, and will increase more--
More numerous than sand on the sandy seashore.
May the God of your fathers look on you and smile,
As he did upon Moses in the great river Nile;
May your life be spared until Christ comes to reign,
A complete salvation I hope you'll obtain.
You have lived, 'tis true, to a good old age,
Eighty long years you have been on the stage;
Live another twenty, then one hundred you'll be,
We'll then have a family jubilee.
In honor to you I have made you this rhyme,
May the Comforting spirit be with you through time,
Through the blood of our Savior your robes will shine,
Power and glory and dominion be thine.
Peter C. Wood
14 February 1881
Retyped by Norma Jean M. Wood
16 February 1990
