You see then, dear ones, that if we know the will of God as Christ has revealed it, and knowing render hearty willing obedience, we, too, may claim the proud title of friends of God. We may not attain to the close communion of that one who, in the early years of the world’s history, “walked with God.” We can never walk with Jesus as the disciples did in the days of His flesh, but we may call ourselves His friends, if, in humble dependence on the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we follow in His footsteps and obey His commands. Only thus can we journey towards a truly “good old age.” We must now go back almost to the point at which we started this evening. There are many samples of old age from which the young, especially, shrink with pity, repulsion, or even dislike. The saddest and worst of all must be the man or woman who, in the time of hoar hairs, is living without God. Who could help grieving for that human being who knows nothing of God’s love in Christ Jesus? Who that does not know it could help doing the one thing which is in the power of all? The most helpless can pray for such a one. Quite apart from those in whose lives God has no place are many in whom the beauty of old age is marred by some habit which ought never to have grown into one, and never would had it been checked in time. A tiny germ at first, but, unchecked, it grew into what dimmed and overshadowed a life. Years ago, through being brought in contact with various samples of soured old age, I learned to dread the very thought of resembling them, and often exclaimed, “I hope I shall never become a grumbling, crabbed old woman!” I noted that old age was often lonely and neglected because it exercised a depressing effect on all who came within its reach. I doubt not that amongst you, my dear girl friends, there are many who visit old people in various positions. In some cases, you look forward with gladness to the prospect of a welcome, a happy, helpful talk, and a lingering good-bye. As you leave, you look back at the window at which you know your old friend will be standing, to catch the last glimpse of the grandmotherly face and the wave of a wrinkled hand. You trip away, smiling as you go, or perchance with a look of sweet thoughtfulness on your face as you recall some wise words that have fallen from those aged lips and which are already influencing you for good. Did you grudge the time spent with this friend, or pay your visit as a matter of duty? No, indeed. Almost before you reached home you were looking forward to your next meeting as a privilege and a pleasure. Your friend was a sample of good old age. She had begun to walk with God in her youth, and each year of life had drawn her into closer communion with Him.