Not Growing Old

This is a continuation of my conversation with Pastor Pete

Sensing that I was preparing to wrap things up, Pastor Pete asked if he could summarize things. I nodded and listened as these two poems flowed from his heart.


They say I’m growing old.
I’ve heard it said almost times untold.
In language clear and bold.
But I am not growing old.

This frail shell in which I dwell
Is growing old I know full well.
But I am not the shell.

What matters if time’s old plow
Has plowed some furrows in my brow,
When the Bible tells me of another place
Not made by human hand,
That’s awaiting me now in the Glory Land?

Yes, this human body, do everything I possibly can
To extend my earthly life’s short span,
Will perish and return to dust,
As all things in nature must.

But my true inner self the Scriptures say,
Is growing stronger every day.
So, how can you say I’m growing old
When I know I’m safe within the Savior’s fold?

Ere long my soul will fly away
And leave this tenement of clay.
This robe of flesh I’ll drop and rise
To seize the everlasting prize.

And I’ll hope to meet you on the streets of gold
To prove that I am not growing old.


Our greying years can be very unkind
To gift of body, soul, and mind.
But we find strength to live each day
Through the few talents that did not wash away.

And we better learn to keep and use
Those few talents we did not lose.
And we learn to better make our way
Through years of challenge and dismay.

With truer faith and wiser mind
And fight against the tests of time.
And with those fewer talents God concedes
We learn to live with fewer needs.

*recited from memory based on the poem Not Growing Old by John E Roberts

**Our Greying Years, author unknown

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