Not Growing Old [Leaflets]

Full Text of This Product

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 am not the shell.

What if my hair is turning 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

Upon the cross of Calvary

Why should I care if time’s old plow

Has left its furrows on my brow.

Another house, not made by 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.

But the inward man the Scriptures say

Is growing stronger every day.

Then how can I be growing old'

When safe within my 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