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