I'm Not Growing Old

They say that I am growing oldI've heard them say it times untoldIn language plain and boldBut I'm not growing oldThis frail old shell in which I dwellIs growing old I know full wellBut I'm not growing old.

What if my hair has turned grayGray hair is honorable, they sayWhat if my eye sight's growing dimI can still see to follow HimWho sacrificed His life for meThere on the cross of Calvary

Why should I care if time's old plowHas dug some furrows in my brow.Another house not made with handAwaits me in the glory land.My hearing may not be as keenAs in the past, it may have beenStill I can hear my Savior sayCome faltering child, this is the way.

The outward man, do what I canTo lengthen out this life's short spanShall perish and return to dustAs everything in nature must.But the inward man the Scriptures sayAh, the inward man Is growing stronger every day.

Then how can I be growing old?I'm safe within the Saviour's fold&ls;Er long my soul shall fly awayAnd leave this tenement of clayThis robe of flesh I'll drop and riseTo seize the everlasting prizeI'll meet you on the streets of goldAnd prove that I'm not growing old.

- John E. Roberts