Preface

Preface

THE OLD STORY-TELLER

THE OLD STORY-TELLER

In my upper chamber here,

Still I wait from year to year;

Wondering when the time will come

That the Lord will call me home.

All the rest have been removed,—

Those I worked for, those I loved;

And, at times, there seems to be

Little use on earth for me.

Still God keeps me—He knows why—

When so many younger die!

From my window I look down

On the busy, bustling town.

But beyond its noise and jar

I can see the hills afar;

And above it, the blue sky,

And the white clouds sailing by;

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