humbling of old age itself, without needing affliction over and
above.

Yes, by old age alone. Old age, it seems to me, is a most wholesome
and blessed medicine for the soul of man. Good it is to find that we
can work no longer, and rejoice no more in our own strength and
cunning. Good it is to feel our mortal bodies decay, and to learn
that we are but dust, and that when we turn again to our dust, all
our thoughts will perish. Good it is to see the world changing round
us, going ahead of us, leaving us and our opinions behind. Good
perhaps for us--though not for them--to see the young who are growing
up around us looking down on our old-fashioned notions. Good for us:
because anything is good which humbles us, makes us feel our own
ignorance, weakness, nothingness, and cast ourselves utterly on that
God in whom we live, and move, and have our being; and on the mercy
of that Saviour who died for us on the Cross; and on that Spirit of
God from whose holy inspiration alone all good desires and good
actions come.

God grant that that may be our end. That old age, when it comes, may
chasten us, humble us, soften us; and that our second childhood may
be a second childhood indeed, purged from the conceit, the scheming,
the fierceness, the covetousness which so easily beset us in our
youth and manhood; and tempered down to gentleness, patience,
humility, and faith. God grant that instead of clinging greedily to
life, and money, and power, and fame, we may cling only to God, and
have one only wish as we draw near our end.--'From my youth up hast
thou taught me, Oh God, and hitherto I have declared thy wondrous
works. Now also that I am old and grey-headed, Oh Lord, forsake me
not, till I have showed thy goodness to this generation, and thy