01 It started in a livin' room, a Bible and a prayer Nineteen-eighty, twelve believers, borrowed foldin' chairs They borrowed a room at the seniors' home, passed a pickle jar 'round Grew the flock ten faithful years 'til they finally broke ground He'd say "Unless the Lord builds the house, we're only stackin' wood" So they swung their hammers prayin' — and the Lord called it good
02 He never counted sheep He counted on the Lord He lived on what the offering held And never got lost chasin' more The poorest man in the county Layin' up a treasure no moth can touch He'll tip his hat and tell you "It's always been enough"
03 Come Monday he'd be tendin' the fields before the mornin' broke Growin' pickles, prayin' Gospel on that Massey coughin' smoke Sold the harvest by the bushel, tithed it back like seed Said "the ground was never mine — the Lord just lets me feed" From the corn roast in the parkin' lot to Bibles 'cross the sea His reach ran further than his fences — further than he'll ever see
04 He never counted sheep He counted on the Lord He lived on what the offering held And never got lost chasin' more The poorest man in the county Layin' up a treasure no moth can touch He'll tip his hat and tell you "It's always been enough"
05 He's buried men who raised those walls, baptized their daughters and their sons Never missed a graveside, never missed a weddin', not a one He stood with me at the altar the day I said my vows And he raised my bride up from the water — Lord, I see it now His hands are worn like the cover of the Book he's still preachin' Every callous tells a story of the souls they're still reachin'
06 I've got two kids of my own now, I've served in bigger rooms Where the crowds get counted by the thousand, singin' newer tunes But I measured every shepherd by the standard of this one And I'm still waitin' on a second — 'cause the Lord just made the one Some men find a paycheck, some men find a role But when you find your purpose — it's the marrow in your soul
07 Now some men work the circuit, steeple on to steeple Chasin' brighter lights and likes and rooms of restless people Preachin' all the honey, holdin' back the salt 'Cause lukewarm fills the buildin' and the offering vault And moths still find the flame — Lord knows You use 'em too They draw the curious to the water — and some get carried through But a moth circles the glory 'til his paper wings retire A shepherd never leaves the flock — he walks you through the fire
08 Sixty years he's kept his head down, workin' in the dirt Trustin' God to raise a harvest that he'd never see on earth And if the Lord allows it, when he tops that higher hill Someone's gonna turn him 'round and say, "Look what We built" Every dyin' family tree he grafted to the Vine Bearin' fruit in rows he never planted, runnin' out of sight A thousand burnin' candles that were lit from just his one And he'll hear it soft as Sunday mornin' — "Well done... well done"
09 So Lord, raise up more shepherds — 'cause the harvest's turnin' white The laborers are few, and the wolves are out at night And if they need a standard, they don't need to look too far There's one still feedin' sheep somewhere — with nothin' but a jar
10 A pickle jar... a little flock... and a good shepherd And it will always... be enough
Words and music by Nathanael Joseph. © Nathanael Joseph Ende. All rights reserved. Quote a line with credit; please don't reprint the whole song.
