Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Gray hair is the Splendor of the old.

Proverbs 20:29b

They say that I am growing old; 
I've heard them say times untold,
In language plain and bold--
but I am 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 hairs are honorable they say.
What if my eyesight's growing dim; 
I still can see to follow Him
Who sacrificed His life for me--
upon the Cross at Calvary!

Why should I care if time's old plough 
has left its furrows on my brow?
Another house, not made with hands 
awaits me in the Glory Land.
What though I falter in my walk 
and though my tongue refuse to talk?
I still can tread the narrow way; 
I still can watch and praise and pray!
The robe of flesh I'll drop 
and rise to seize the everlasting prize
I'll meet you on the streets of gold 
and prove I am NOT growing old.

by Ernest Barkaway

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