September 18th

My House Is Built On Hope

You tell me I am Getting Old;

I tell you That's Not So;

The "house" I live in is worn out...

And that, of course, I know.

It's been in use a long, long while,

It's weathered many a gale;

I'm really not surprised you think

It's getting somewhat frail.

The color's changing on the roof,

The windows are a wee bit dim,

The walls are somewhat transparent,

And looking rather thin.

The foundation's not so steady

As once it used to be;

My "house" is getting shaky,

But my "house"... isn't me!

My few short years can't make me old...

I feel I'm in my youth:

Eternity lies just ahead,

A life of Joy and Truth,

I'm going to live forever, There;

Life will go on--it's grand!

You tell me I am getting old now?

But You Just Don't Understand!

The Dweller in my little "house"

Is Young and Bright and... HEY...

I'm Just Getting Rolling... Friend...

On Eternity... And A Day.

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