Prayer of the Old Horse

See, Lord, My coat hangs in tatters, homespun, old, threadbare.
All that I had of zest, all my strength,
I have given in hard work and kept nothing back for myself.

Now my poor head swings to offer up all the loneliness of my heart.
Dear God, stiff on my thickened legs I stand here before You.
Your dutiful servant. Oh! of Your goodness, give me a gentle death.


Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.