We have a growing reverence for the aged. It ever was and is a characteristic of Jewish religious life to honor the aged. It is a touching and beautiful sight to view one in the sunset of life, waiting at the brink of the river for the parting of the waves. The heart yet brave; the love of early days as passionate if more matured; the purpose of the soul unchanged, and the calm, unshaken confidence — the growth of many years — reflected on the patient, if worn and suffering countenance. How chastened! How mellowed! How useful the ripening of experience!
One danger to which the Lord’s aged people are peculiarly subject is to rest on their oars, and seek to pass the evening of their days assuming that their work is done. That was not the spirit of brave old Caleb, who, when eighty-five years old, said, “As yet I am as strong this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me” — forty years previously — “as my strength was then, even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out, and to come in” (Josh. 14:11). Caleb was not tired of the conflict. He drew his spiritual strength from God Himself.
The physical vigor of youth may give way, but there is a power outside the domain of nature: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint” (Isa. 40:31). O beloved, aged pilgrims, our rest is on the other side of the river; our home is on high. Throw off the indolence which with age and infirmity creeps over the soul, and nerve yourself to battle on, to serve till He come. A few more struggles, and then eternal rest! Your active ministry in pulpit or platform is over, perhaps. But has your service ceased? There yet remains the more spiritual work of intercession with God for the Church and the world. Work in your prayer closet — work which brings you face to face with God Himself. The sanctuary is your sphere of service and that is better than the public work of younger days. Then, too, there is the exquisite beauty of Christ reproduced in your aged days — His love, His grace, His tenderness, His voice, His touch, His gentleness, His holiness. O God, bless Thine aged pilgrim people. Say not, “My long life’s work is done.”
One of the most eloquent of Scottish preachers whose burning words once fell on our ears, the late Dr. Guthrie, thus wrote: “They say that I am growing old because my hair is silver, and there are crow’s feet on my forehead, and my step is not as firm and elastic as before. But they are mistaken. That is not me. The knees are weak; but the knees are not me. The brow is wrinkled; but the brow is not me. This is the house I live in. But I am young — younger than I was ever before.”
For ourselves, and for all our beloved aged pilgrims, we long and pray for spiritual vigor. Where, of course, there is a collapse of physical powers, one can only wait in patience the joyful summons, “Come Home!” Press on with increasing desire. The manna is needed equally for your closing hours as for the springtide of earlier days. Feed on Christ, ye fathers and mothers in Israel!
— This article was written by the venerable Walter Scott at the age of 95!