(God put a song in the heart of an angel, and softly she sang it to me)
I get to thinking lots of times about back when I was a lad, of the old home-place where I grew up, of the days both good and bad. My overalls were hand-me-downs, my shoes were full of holes, I used to walk four miles to school every day, though the rain and the sleet and the cold. I’ve seen the nights when my daddy would cry for the things that his family would need. But all he ever got was a bad-land farm
and seven hungry mouths to feed, and yet and yet, our home-fire never flickered once, cause when all these things went wrong, mama took the hymn-book down, and mama sang a song.
(What a friend we have in Jesus)
I been rocked to sleep many a night to the tune of "what a friend"; come morning, "rock of ages would waken me gently once again. Then dad, he'd reach up and take the bible down and read it, read it loud and long. I always thought that maybe our home was blest when daddy would say, "mama, sing a song." Sister left home first, I guess, then Bob and then Tommy and then Dan. Then dad's hair was turning white and I had to be mama's little man. But it seemed that as daddy’s back growed weak,
mother’s faith just growed strong. And them were the greatest days of all, when mama sang a song.
(Rock of ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee)
I guess the house is still standing; I don't get back much any more. No voice is left to fill them halls, and no steps to grace the floor. You see, my mama sings in heaven now, around god's golden throne. But I’ll always believe this world is a better place because one time my mama sang a song.
(Precious memories for my soul)
Writer(s): Bill Anderson
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