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My Soul's Been Anchored in the Lord

de David Newman

Angels: He isn't in the garden
Nor on the golden stair
We searched beside the campground
But we couldn't find him there

You know He's very busy
For he listens to every prayer
Almost every prayer
Almost, almost

When He's gone, we miss him
We miss our Lord

[The Lord enters.]

Whoa Lord
Whoa

Lord: Sorry ladies, to make you wait
There's a couple of Buddhists at the Pearly Gate
They asked permission to come on board
A: What'd you do Lord?
L: I had 'em put out with the trash
Sing it!

A: Whoa Lord!
How great our Lord
Whoa Lord!
How great!
H ow great our Lord

L: Ladies. Ladies!
Why does the earth, glide by below
Like a great big rubber ball?

Angel: We don't know Lord

L: Why does the bird, fly through the sky
Why does the apple fall?
Angels: We don't know.

L: Folks up here, they ask me why
Things go so badly down below
I tell them when they ask me why
I really do not know

Angel: But you do know, don't you Lord?

L: 'Course I do! Sing it!

Angels: Whoa Lord!
H ow great our Lord.
L: Sing it ladies!
A: Oh Lord!
How great!
So great
So great
Whoa Lord!
How great our Lord
Whoa Lord!
How great our Lord

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