The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith "A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!''
I saw these photos in Facebook and they tickled my heart to no end. I have an intense fear of growing old. When I imagine myself all wrinkled and gray, can barely walk, can barely make it to the toilet, I hyperventilate. My husband is the only variable that makes me open to the idea of returning to infant-hood functions in an old woman's body. For him, I think this is a passable and hopeful syndication of the first line of Robert Browning's poem.
"Grow young along with me!"