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There's a little mountain church in my thoughts of yesterday |
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Where friends and family gathered for the Lord |
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Where an ol' fashioned preacher taught the straight and narrow way |
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For what few coins the congregation could afford |
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Dressed in all our Sunday best, we sat on pews of solid oak |
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and I remember how our voices filled the air |
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How Mama sounded like an angel on those high soprano notes |
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and "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder I'll Be There" |
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Looking back now that little mountain church house |
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Has become my lifes cornerstone |
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It was there in that little mountain church house |
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I first heard the words I based my life upon |
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At the all day Sunday singing, with dinner on the ground |
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Many were the souls that were revived |
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While the brothers and the sisters who've gone on to Gloryland |
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Slept in peace in the maple grove nearby |
