Come Sunday

On Monday she is teaching school
On Tuesday his a cop
On Wednesday she gives haircuts
In her small town beauty shop
On Thursday his a businessman
On Friday he'll plant wheat
On Saturday she drives a taxi
Through the city street

But come Sunday, in a place called Home
Come Sunday they'll put on their robe
Come Sunday they'll be singing in the choir
Come Sunday God's children all come home
And they sing glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory they will sing
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory to the King

The Mondays of a lifetime here; will only bring a sigh
The days, the weeks the months, the years
How swiftly they flew by
The cares of life, the joys we knew just faded memories
When the Father calls His children home to spend eternity

But come Sunday, in a place called Home
Come Sunday we'll put on our robe
Come Sunday we'll be singing in the choir
Come Sunday God's children will all be home
And they'll sing glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory we will sing
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory to the King



Credits
Writer(s): Gloria Gaither, William J. Gaither
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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