I. These Are The Things Which I Would Ask Of Time: When I Am Old, Never To Feel In Soul Doubt'S Spiritual Rime; The Heart Grow Cold With Self; But In Me That Which Warms My Time. Ii. Never To Feel The Drouth, The Dearth That Kills, Before One Dies, Of Mind, Full-Flowering On Thought'S Fertile Hills; But, In My Skies, The Falcon, Fancy, That No Season Kills. Iii. Never To See The Shadow At My Door, Nor Fear Its Fall; But Wait Serenely, Whether Rich Or Poor, Nor Care At All, So Love Sits With Me At My Open Door. Iv. Never To Have A Dream I Dreamed Destroyed: And Towards The Last Live O'Er Again All That I Have Enjoyed, The Happy Past, Through These, The Dreams, No Time Has Yet Destroyed. V. Never To Lose My Love For Lowly Things; To Feel The Need For Simple Beauty Still: Each Bird That Sings, Each Flower And Weed That Looks Its Message Of Unguessed-At Things. Vi. Never To Lose My Faith In Nature, God: But Still To Find Worship In Trees; Religion In Each Sod; And In The Wind Sermons That Breathe The Universal God. Vii. Never To Age In Mind; Much Less In Heart; But Keep Them Young With Song, Glad Song, That Still Shall Have Its Part, Sung Or Unsung, Within The Inmost Temple Of My Heart. Viii. That I May Lose Not All My Trust In Men! And, Through It, Grow Nearer To Heaven And God: And Softly Then Meet Death And Know He Has No Terrors For My Soul. Amen.