I donât do things as good as I used to,
The days move different, the lines are blurred.
I donât hear the whispers like once I could,
And faces fade more than they should.
I donât see the world with the same clear light,
The colors dim, the printâs too tight.
My memory plays a game of hide,
And sometimes leaves me mystified.
I walk much slower than I did before,
And pause at every creaky floor.
I take more breaks and rest more often,
But in those pauses, my soul has softened.
Iâm slower now at most everything
At tying shoes or answering rings.
But though my hands may tremble some,
My heart is steady, my race still run.
And thatâs okay, Iâm not dismayed,
For in the quiet, Iâve often prayed.
And found a peace I never knewâ
Iâm closer to God than I ever grew.
So let the years fall soft and slow,
Thereâs grace in letting the old ways go.
For though I donât do all I used to do,
Iâm held by love thatâs ever true.
2Co 4:16Â Â The outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop
As I Used To
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