You are old, Father William, the young man cries,
The few locks which are left you are gray:
You appear, Father William, a healthy old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray.

When I was a youth, Father William replied,
I remembered that youth would fly fast;
I abused not my health and my vigor at first,
That I never might need them at last.

You are old, Father William, the young man said,
And pleasures, with youth, pass away;
And yet you repent not the days that are gone
Now tell me the reason, I pray.

When I was a youth, Father William replied,
I remembered that youth could not last:
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past.

You are old, Father William, the young man still cries,
And life is swift hastening away
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
Come tell me the reason, I pray.

I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied;
Let the cause your attention engage:
In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
And he hath not forgotten my age.