Not Growing Old

They say that I’m growing old, I’ve heard them tell it times untold In language plain and bold; But I’m not growing old !

This frail shell in which I dwell Is growing old, I know full well… But I’m not the shell!

What if my hair is turning gray ? Gray hair’s honorable, they say. What if my eyesight’s growing dim ? I can see to follow Him !

Who sacrificed His love for me Upon the Cross of Calvary.

What should I care if Time’s old plough Has left its furrow on my brow ?

Another house—not made with hand— Awaits me in the Glory Land!

What though I falter in my walk ? What though my tongue refuse to talk ?

I still can tread the narrow way. I still can watch, and praise and pray !

My hearing may not be as keen As in the past it may have been.
Still I can hear my Savior say In whispers soft, “This is the way”.

The outward man (do what I can To lengthen out this life’s short span) shall perish and return to dust, As everything in nature must.

The Inward-Man, the Scriptures say, Is growing stronger every day !

Then how can I be growing old, When safe within my Savior’s fold ?

`Ere long my soul shall fly away, And leave this tenement of clay. This robe of flesh I’ll drop…and RISE To seize the Everlasting Prize !

I’ll meet you on the streets of gold And prove that I’m not growing old !

By John E. Roberts

“But though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.”

2 Corinthians 4: 16

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