Lord Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and one day I will be old. Keep me from getting talkative, and particularly from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from the craving to try and straighten out everybody’s affairs. Keep my mind free from the endless recital of endless details give me the wings to get to the point.
I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of another’s pains. Help me to endure them with patience, but seal my lips on my own aches and pains they are increasing and my love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint some of them are so hard to live with but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Keep 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 Thou knowest LORD, that I want a few friends at the end.