Old Age Sermon Illustrations

Old Age Sermon Illustrations

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Old Age

Sometimes the sun seems to hang for half an hour in the horizon, only just to show how glorious it can be. The day is done, for the fervor of shining is over, and the sun hangs golden in the west, making everything look unspeakably beautiful, with the rich effulgence which it sheds on every side. So God seems to let some people, when their duty in this world is done, hang in the west, that men may look on them and see how beautiful they are.—H. W. Beecher.


Treasures for Old Age

After all, when the chimney corner years come, it will not be our adventures in business, where we fought a tough fight and won by crushing the enemy, but the adventures in friendship and neighborliness that will count most with us. . . . The little letters we write to friends, the clusters of flowers with which we enrich their lives, the almost insignificant acts of kindness and love—these are the treasures we lay up to warm our hearts with when old age creeps in and beckons youth away.—Thomas Dreier.


Growing Old

A little more tired at close of day;
A little less anxious to have our way;
A little less ready to scold and blame;
A little more care for a brother's name:
And so we are nearing the journey's end,
Where time and eternity meet and blend.

A little less care for bonds and gold;
A little more rest than in days of old;
A broader view and a saner mind,
And a little more love for all mankind.
A little more careful of what we say:
And so we are faring a-down the way.

A little more leisure to sit and dream;
A little more real the things unseen;
A little bit near to those ahead,
With visions of those long loved and dead:
And so we are going where all must go,
To the place the living may never know.

A little more laughter, a few more tears,
And we shall have told our increasing years;
The book is closed and the prayers are said,
And we are a part of the countless dead.
Except that translation may take us home
And we cease forever on earth to roam.
Thrice happy, then, if some soul can say,
"I live because he has passed my way."—Selected.


Not Growing Old

This frail old shell in which I dwell
Is growing old, I know full well—
But I am not the shell.

What if my hair is turning grey?
Grey hairs are honorable, they say.
What if my eyesight's growing dim?
I still can see to follow Him
Who sacrificed His life for me,
Upon the Cross of Calvary.

Why should I care if Time's old plow
Has left its furrows on my brow?
Another house, not made with hand,
Awaits me in the Glory Land.

What though my tongue refuse to talk?
What though I falter in my walk?
I still can tread the Narrow Way,
I still can watch, and praise, and pray.

My hearing may not be as keen
As in the past it may have been,
Still, I can hear my Saviour say
In whispers soft, "This is the way."

The outward man, do what I can
To lengthen out his life's short span,
Shall perish and return to dust
As everything in nature must.

The inward man, the Scriptures say,
Is growing stronger every day.
Then how can I be growing old
When safe within my Saviour's fold?

Ere long my soul shall fly away,
And leave this tenement of clay,
This robe of flesh I'll drop, and rise
To seize the "everlasting prize"—
I'll meet you on the Streets of Gold,
And prove that I'm not growing old.—John E. Roberts.


Fruit in Old Age

"Lo, I am this day fourscore and five years old" (Josh. 14:10).

God dealt justly and liberally with this old saint.... At the age of eighty-five he met the challenge of the hardest task of his life! Forty years of wilderness life had not dimmed his vision, lessened his faith, dulled his youthful zeal, nor diminished his physical powers. This is the heritage of those who wholly follow the Lord. Old age is no bar to the power of God. "They shall bring forth fruit in old age" is the promise to those who wholly follow the Lord.

Dr. McConnell built a great church in the City of Atlanta at the age of seventy. J. Hudson Taylor, at seventy, was vigorously pushing into new territory, opening new fields to the Gospel and praying out new bands of missionaries to Inland China. George Mueller at ninety was still expanding and enlarging a work that not only housed 1,500 orphans, but was publishing religious literature and sending out missionaries to half a dozen mission fields.

In his old age Caleb went up to the stronghold of the Anakim, and dislodged them from their fortress and took possession of their cities. "Let us go up at once, .. . for we are well able to overcome it," is the victorious cry of a triumphant faith, and its reward is to reign in the place it has wrested from the hand of its fiercest enemies.—Christ-Life.

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