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 seen.  My youth soon fled, and I alone,  Reaped sorrow for my pleasure, The  things I loved to do for show,  Proved but an empty treasure. 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!