IT is not I that's growing old,
'Tis but this human frame;
The tabernacle where I dwell;
Not I, blest be His name.
It is not I that's growing old,
This tenament of clay
May weaken, totter, tumble down,
But I was made for aye.
It is not I that's growing old;
The outward may decay,
The inner man God does renew,
And strengthen day by day.
It is not I that's growing old,
For I ere long shall be
Changed to the image of my Lord,
His blessed face to see.