A Misty Sunday Morning

Buck Tohill

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On a misty Sunday Morning, in my kitchen all alone

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         I was drinking old black coffee and really feeling down.

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Sitting there that misty morning I was bored out of my mind

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         Had no reason for living, at least none that I could find.

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In the distance then I heard them ringing loud and clear.

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         Calling folks to Jesus while I was sitting there.

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As I listened to those church bells memories surfaced in my mind

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         Of my mother telling stories about a man who healed the blind,

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He cured the sick and fed the hungry and the lame could walk away

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         He did it ‘cause he loved them, he didn’t do it for the pay.

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As I listen to the church bells ringing out so loud and clear

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         In my mind I wondered why am I still sitting here?

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Well, I got up from the table and I shut the TV off.

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         Went into my bedroom, took a clean shirt from the shelf,

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Then I walked out in the front yard and I listened for the sound

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         That would tell my lonely soul that at last it had been found

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In the distance I could hear them, still ringing loud and clear

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         Calling folks to Jesus; it was a sound I longed to hear.

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From the emptiness of my life I learned there’s many just like me

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         Whose lives are not worth living, at least as far as they can see.

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In the rush of daily living their souls have been stripped bare.

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         In their hearts they long to hear that somebody really cares.

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Oh I hope they hear those church bells, ringing out so loud and clear.

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         Calling them to Jesus, He’s the one who really cares.