Riding along in the old wagon, On the way to church each Sunday, Some stood by the wayside and snickered, Others waved when we passed their way. Always in need of a way to go, We did the very best that we could, We worshiped our sweet blessed Lord, Thankful of the transport built of wood. Snickers and giggles we heard often, Yet we continued upon our way, Determined to reach the church in time, We praised and thanked God for life each day. Rain or shine, it did not halt the wagon, The old mules still ambled slowly alone, Patiently we rode sometimes in wetness, In the cold, it was so nice to reach home. Riches here on this earth we had none, Degradation suffered at most every turn, It did not deter our love for Jesus, In our hearts divine devotions did burn. We heard in the darkness a voice calling, Begging, “Please come for I cannot rest, I must learn about this man called Jesus, It bears heavily upon my chest". We followed him not to his home, Nor to the church we faithfully attended, ‘Twas to the old wooden wagon, And there beside the old mules he repented. He had stood by the wayside and snickered, Made fun of us as we passed on our way, Yet he was kneeling beside the old wagon, Jesus brought him there humbly to pray. ©Gayle Davis April 14, 2004 Used With Permission All Rights Reserved By Author Website Mail

Precious Memories
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David's Southern Gospel MIDI Tracks

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