Of Thankful Age

Some time ago, I watched a man sit down to eat.
A man of age so great was he -
An ancient man compared to me.

Noon-time, it was, as I recall the antique face
With faithful hands together drawn
Upon the numbers of his clock.

With quiet nod of thanks to she who gave it him,
I watched him softly take his soup.
I wondered at what things he knew.

Upon what glories had he feasted all these years?
How long had he been with my Lord?
How much had been provided him?

His faithful hands together came; I heard a quiet "tick."
With elbows resting on the table,
His thumbs had met his aged face.

He sunk his head in thanks to Him, who gave him soup.