Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old. Keep me from becoming talkative, naggy and from the particularly fatal habit of thinking too much.
Keep me away from the habit of I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details and do keep me sane. Give me wings to get to the point. I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of others' pain. Help me to endure them with patience. Seal my lips on my own aches and pains - they are increasing and my love of rehearsing them is becoming stronger as the years go by. Help me to stay strong so that these legs would not creak and tweak while the body would not be the subject of endless strips of medication pills.
Teach me the glory lesson occasionally, that it is possible that I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet, I do not want to be a saint - some of them are very hard to live with - but a sour old man is one of the crowning works of the devil.
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 thy knowest, Lord, that I want a few good friends at the end of the day beside my 6' X 4' plot.
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