WHEN two gray-haired old parents meet
In quiet home or busy street,
The talk will run in formal style
On formal things a little while.
Then, following a silent spell:
“The children, are they doing well?”
Then faded eyes grow quickly bright.
Worn features take a sudden light,
As they recount with pride and joy
The story of each girl and boy.
How these old parents love to tell
That every child is doing well!
The great All-Father up above,
I often think, in words of love
Recounts each vict’ry and success,
Joys in His children’s happiness.
I think He, too, delights to tell
That all His own are doing well.