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I’m Not Growing Old

They say that I am growing old

I’ve heard them say it times untold

In language plain and bold

But I’m not growing old

This frail old shell in which I dwell

Is growing old I know full well

But I’m not growing old.

What if my hair has turned gray

Gray hair is honorable, they say

What if my eye sight’s growing dim

I can still see to follow Him

Who sacrificed His life for me

There on the cross of Calvary

Why should I care if time’s old plow

Has dug some furrows in my brow.

Another house not made with hand

Awaits me in the glory land.

My hearing may not be as keen

As in the past, it may have been

Still I can hear my Savior say

Come faltering child, 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.

But the inward man the Scriptures say

Ah, the inward man

Is growing stronger every day.

Then how can I be growing old?

I’m safe within the Saviour’s fold

‘Er 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.

- John E. Roberts





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