Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age
Bend together earnestly o'er the Sacred Page;
One amid spring blossoms, while the falling leaves
Gather round the other sitting 'mid the sheaves;
One amid the twilight of the coming day,
While the shadows deepen round the other's way.

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age,
Read the same sweet lessons from the Sacred Page;
Eyes that brim with laughter, eyes that dim with years,
Resting there pay tribute in a flood of tears;
Rosy lips and pallid trembling at the cry—
Mournfully repeating the Sabachthani!

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age
Draw their consolation from the Sacred Page;
One is in the valley where the grass is green,
While the other gazes on a wintry scene;
Both have lost their birth-right-both have felt their loss,
And they both regain it through the blessed Cross!

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age,
Find their way to Heaven in the Sacred Page;
Like the little children waiting to be blessed,
One goes forth rejoicing to the Saviour's breast,
While the other clingeth to his mighty arm,
'Mid the swelling Jordan feeling no alarm.

Golden-headed youth and silver-headed age,
Come, and seek for treasures in the Sacred Page;
To the one how tender is the Saviour's call;
Yet the invitation He extends to all;
Earthly fountains fail you—hasten to assuage
Every grief of childhood—every pang of age!

Oh, what a book is the Bible! There is enough in one verse to condemn the whole world, and enough in another to redeem it.

No man in a dark night can behold himself in a mirror until a lamp is lighted,—and not even then distinctly and perfectly until the dawn of day: so no man can see himself in God's mirror until the beams of the divine lamp [the Holy Spirit] illume his soul,—nor even then can he see perfectly what a wretched and distorted being he is "until the day break" and, being made like his Saviour, he contrasts what he is with what he once was.