They Tell Me the Story of Jesus Is Old

They tell me the sto­ry of Je­sus is old

And they ask that we preach some­thing new;

They say that the Babe

and the Man of the cross

For the wise of this world will not do.

It can nev­er grow old

it can nev­er grow old

Though a mill­ion times ov­er the sto­ry is told;

While sin lives un­van­quished

And death rules the world

The sto­ry of Je­sus can nev­er grow old.

Yet the story is old

as the sun­light is old

Though it’s new ev­ery morn all the same;

As it floods all the world with its glad­ness and light

Kindling far­away stars by its flame.

For what can we tell to the wea­ry of heart

If we preach not sal­va­tion from sin?

And how can we com­fort the souls that de­part

If we tell not how Christ rose again?

So with sor­row we turn from the wise of this world

To the wan­der­ers far from the fold;

With hearts for the mes­sage they’ll join in our song

That the sto­ry can nev­er grow old.