The young girl couldn’t sleep that night, her faith was mighty low;
tomorrow’s service she would play a hymn on the piano.
She worried that she’d make mistakes, her fear was running wild
until she felt a peaceful calm and God say “Little child,
it doesn’t matter how you do, what pleases Me is this:
that you are willing to give what you can without remiss.
I don’t hear imperfect notes, nor missing notes at all;
it’s that you’re giving from your heart, I feel your love-beat call.
In church observe the gentleman who gives the bulletin;
he lost his voice to cancer, but he’s got the biggest grin.
Look over in the corner at the boy who pulls the rope;
you hear the church bells ringing but his hands can barely grope.
The woman in the choir with the voice just like an angel,
her legs are bent and twisted, just standing is so painful.
There is an older man that comes and sits in the last pew,
he walks a couple miles each way with holes in both his shoes.
The choir director stands in front and leads you all in song,
she scrubs the floors on hands and knees in buildings all night long.
I tell you now that none of them think they are good enough,
but still they do their best for Me although their task is tough,
and though they sometimes falter, I love them all the more
that they should go and do their best, it’s this that I adore.
Tomorrow when you take the bench and play your practiced song,
no matter how you do, know that with love you do no wrong.”
Back of the Choir 