| And this old church, she said.....
Precious songs unto me have my children sang
Closely guarded inside by heart, such joy they always bring
In the midflight of December's past when I was forgotten and my lamps burned low
It was on this rock on which I stand for my strength I had to go.
On a foundation as pure as God's own breath, I have stood the test of time
Now beyond a shadow of anyone's doubt, I have not been left behind
I grew tired and I grew weary in you, that I will confide
And never for a moment did I forget you, my arms were always open wide.
I am but a diamond that has been covered up in dust
Or like a previous metal that's been paralyzed by rust
Now I return triumphant, again I have been found
Always and forever, I am the Queen of this town.
So, sing me a song as sad as Hank
Have Bill Monroe yodel twice
Get Minnie Pearl to pull some pranks
Or have the Old Judge to read something nice
Deford come and blow your harp and make that baby cry
Because Uncle Dave's coming in on the Woodbury bus as our redemption draweth nigh
Nigh and nearer; "Nearer My God To Thee," have Roy Acuff sing
While Maybelle plays her autoharp
My children know how to make the rafters ring.
Now, new melodies drift up out of my windows
That bloom like magnolias in the night
Sent by young and fearless hearts
Grandchildren filled with light
Chosen and committed, hands firm upon the plow
Knowing well from whence they came
Beholding the future like it was now.
So, hit those low notes Randy Travis
Make way for Alison Krauss
Tell Travis and Marty to turn it down easy
Be reverent when they rock this house
Clint Black, come band blow your harp and make that baby cry
Because Gill, Garth and Jackson are bringing it home as we kiss this century goodbye.
To the dignified and different, sinners and saints
Come feast on the sound and the sights
A natural wonder for all to behold
We're the reason God made Saturday night,
Written by Marty Stuart
© 1994 Songs of Polygram, Inc./Tubb's Bus Music (BMI)
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