The story behind this song
Forty years, the same oak doors and the same walk up the aisle to the same pulpit. He married the people he'd baptized as babies, then buried the parents who first shook his hand at that door. He stood in hospital hallways at 2 a.m., coat thrown over pajamas, his Bible worn to thread, and loaned out faith on the weeks people had none left of their own.
Now it's his last Sunday, and the pews are full, and the whole congregation has something to say back.
For the flock who finally get to carry the man who carried all of them.
Lyrics
The same oak doors, the same nine bells
But this Sunday, we tell it
But this Sunday, we tell it
You married us beneath these rafters
Buried our mothers from this floor
Held the water as our babies got their blessing
Forty years of standing at that door
Buried our mothers from this floor
Held the water as our babies got their blessing
Forty years of standing at that door
You carried every burden up that aisle
And never once asked who'd carry yours
And never once asked who'd carry yours
So this last sermon isn't yours to preach
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
We saw you in the hospital at 2 a.m.
Coat over pajamas, Bible worn to thread
You gave us words beside a thousand bedsides
And loaned us faith on weeks when ours was dead
Coat over pajamas, Bible worn to thread
You gave us words beside a thousand bedsides
And loaned us faith on weeks when ours was dead
The pulpit's just a piece of wood
The church was always you — and Lord, it's full
The church was always you — and Lord, it's full
So this last sermon isn't yours to preach
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
The candles dim, the choir holds the note
A young man takes the robe you wore
But grace don't retire, it just changes hands
Like you taught us at this door
A young man takes the robe you wore
But grace don't retire, it just changes hands
Like you taught us at this door
So this last sermon isn't yours to preach
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
Sit down, shepherd — let the flock speak
Every soul you steadied, every midnight call you took
We're the living pages of your book
This last sermon's ours
Go in peace — the words you always gave
This time they're ours, and this time, they're for you
This time they're ours, and this time, they're for you
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