This Earthly House

You tell me I am getting old – but that’s not really so,
The house I live in may be worn – and that, of course, I know;
It’s been in use a good long while and weathered many a gale,
I’m therefore not surprised to find it now is somewhat frail.

You tell me I am getting old, you mix my house and me –
You’re looking at the outside – that’s all that most folks see;
The dweller in the little house is bright and young and gay –
Just starting on a life that lasts through long Eternal day.

The color’s changing on the “roof,” the “window’s” looking dim;
The “wall’s” a bit transparent, and getting rather thin;
The “foundation’s” not so steady as once it used to be,
And that is all that you observe, but it’s not really me.

I patch the old house up a bit to make it last the night,
But soon I shall be flitting to my home of endless light.
I’m going to live forever there, my life goes on, it’s grand;
How can you say, I’m getting old? You do not understand.

These few short years can’t make me old, I feel I’m in my youth!
Eternity lies just ahead, full of life and joy and truth.
We will not fret to see this house grow shabby day by day,
But look ahead to our new “Home” which never will decay.

I want to be made fit to dwell in that blest house above,
Cleansed in the precious blood of Christ, and growing still in love.
The beauty of that glorious home, no words can ever say –
‘Tis hidden from these mortal eyes, but kept for us someday!

My house is getting ready in the land beyond the sky,
It’s Architect and Builder is my Saviour on High,
But I rather think He’s leaving the furnishing to me –
So it’s “treasure up in Heaven” I must store each day you see.

By Jack Jackson Heb 10:11 (circa 1952 or 1955 Durban)