The sunny side of Seventy!
I've reached it long ago,
And now am nearing Eighty
With hair as white as snow.
Eyes dim, joints stiff, back feeble.
I seem in evil case,
To sing of sunny seventy,
Seems somewhat out of place.
But is it? Pause and ponder
What the Good Book hath said
Of righteousness and glory
Crowning the hoary head.
Think of the rocks and quicksands
Which I have safely passed,
By the Good Shepherd's guidance,
Through many a roaring blast.
Now I am near the borders
Of the bright shining land.
Where blessed saints are waiting
For me to join their band—
For me and all believers,
Cleansed in that wondrous flood
Which frees from all defilement,
E'en Christ's most precious blood.
Does not that counterbalance
The weakness of my frame?
Oh, how the thought of glory
Doth set my heart on flame!
What though this mortal body,
Poor tenement of clay,
'Neath death's dominion falling,
Should perish and decay.
What matter! All is brightness,
For thus proclaims the Word,
Absent from this poor body,
Then present with the Lord.
How glorious are my prospects,
Lo! to faith's piercing view
Lie realms of brightest glory,
Scenes ever fair and new.
The pearly gates, the heavens
Where the bright angels dwell,
Where shining saints, in myriads,
God's praises ever tell;
Where all is joy and blessing,
True happiness and peace;
Where death, pain, care and sorrow
Forevermore shall cease;
Where Christ is heavenly glory,
The Lamb of God divine,
God's Son, His well-beloved,
Doth reign—and Christ is mine!
Speak not of earthy glory,
Of worldly wealth or fame;
The brightness of His presence
Will put them all to shame.
E'en now, although my vision
Be yet obscure and dim,
How fade their transient glories
Whene'er I gaze on Him!
His wondrous self-surrender,
His cross, His thorn-crowned brow
His loving heart, His patience,
His agony and woe!
And now HIS THRONE OF GLORY,
On which He sits supreme,
Ruling o'er powers and princedoms,
Heaven's bright and blessed theme;
Thus God shows satisfaction
For priceless labor done
On Calvary's cross of agony,
By His beloved Son.
How trivial seem time's doings
When these realities
Are by the Holy Spirits power
Presented to our eyes;
Then let us thank the Savior
Who died upon the tree
Then we, made meet, might with Himself
Spend our Eternity.
All we can see is transient,
And soon will pass away;
Things unseen are eternal,
And so will last for aye,
And so, my God, I praise Thee
That thus far am I come,
For the Sunny Side of Seventy
Has brought me well-nigh home.
Because Old Time untiring
Hath borne me swift along,
The Sunny Side of Eighty
Is now my joyous song;
Joyous in spite of weakness,
Of labor and of sorrow,
Joyous when shines the passing day
Or gloom's the coming morrow,
For know thou this, true happiness
Is not a thing of earth;
Not on events doth it depend,
Heaven is its place of birth—
Its true, its native home; for oh
(Sound it through earth abroad!)
It has its blessed origin
In the warm heart of God!
God's thoughts towards us are loving thoughts,
God's actions ever tend
To humble us, to do us good
When comes our latter end.
For God is Light and Love, let all
Grasp firm that blessed truth.
Ponder it well, ye gray-haired saints,
Lay it to heart, oh youth.
Ho! Let us sing it loudly
My fellow-pilgrims all;
Oh praise the Lord of Glory,
Praise Him both great and small!
Aid me to chant His goodness
Who sent His son to die
That hell-deserving sinners
Might dwell with Him on high.
And Thou, most precious Savior,
When shall we see Thy face?
Bright Morning Star, shine forth in all
The glory of Thy grace!
Lord Jesus come, with voice and trump
And manifested power;
Oh come, and take Thy loved ones home:
Hail to that blessed hour!
Hector Maiben