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!