An old new year wish

As my limbs grow feeble and now wobble, My old wish every new year, a manna, Easily reached by my legs that hobble. Brought to me like in the sacks of Santa. Though, no work deserves no pay as they say, But my muscles are just too weak to toil, Many more years, I wish my mind to stay. Let not hunger turn my soul to its spoil. So, destiny helpers from north and south, Also, from west to east, my house they find, So that just songs of praise will fill my mouth. To all my weakness, let their eyes be blind. If my needs, again you can still provide, Then my special thanks will be to your name, In your ways, my legs shall always abide, Your holiness I shall ever acclaim.