THE OLD MAN AND DEATH

A very poor old man, footsore and bent with years, threw down the heavy bundle of firewood under which he had been groaning, and with tears in his eyes exclaimed: "Oh, hard luck! What pleasure have I ever known? Nothing but work all day- no money- no one to care for me. Alas! I’d sooner Death would take me away." Behold, the grim King of Kings stood before him, dreadful and awe-inspiring, as he rested on his scythe. "Beg pardon, but did I receive a hurry call?" The old man turned all colors and trembling like a leaf, replied, "Please, sir, would you kindly help me to lift this bundle of sticks on to my shoulder?"

We would often be sorry if

our wishes were granted.