By Mildred Allen Jeffrey

I took the best of my youth

 For pleasures all my own

 Forgetting I must some

 day reap

The chaff that I had sown.

I took the best of every

 day, When mind was

 fresh and keen To do the

 special things I loved,

 The things that would be


My youth soon fled, and I,

 alone,Reaped sorrow for

 my pleasure.....

The things I loved to do for


Proved but an empty


But when I gave my best to

 God, My life — the

 morning hour I found His

 pleasure was my own, His

 grace my shining tower!