The Sparrows
        Nest

SOME SUNDAY MORNING

Gospel Cassette # 247
SOME SUNDAY MORNING
Some Sunday Morning / Getting Ready for the Nursery / Light The Candle / Doesn't Anybody Know / Tell It To The Angels / Poisoned Apples / Seek Ye Higher Ground / Thou Art My Hiding Place / Listen To The Sound / My Finest Day


SOME SUNDAY MORNING
By Martha Miranda © 1994

Some Sunday morning
The LORD Himself shall come down
Some Sunday morning
Some Sunday morning
And he shall cry a baby's cry
Some Sunday morning

Some Sunday morning we shall see Him
We shall touch Him! We shall hear Him!
We shall see Him face to face
Some Sunday morning
Some Sunday morning all the power
Shall come down like a heavy falling shower
And He shall cry a baby's cry
Some Sunday morning

Some Sunday morning
We shall hear a baby's cry
Some Sunday morning
Some Sunday morning
The LORD Himself shall come down
Some Sunday morning
And He shall cry a baby's cry
Some Sunday morning

Come Sunday morning we'll be dancin'
We'll be singin' We'll be shoutin'
We shall hear a baby's cry
Come Sunday morning
Come Sunday morning we shall see Him
We shall touch Him! We shall hear Him!
He shall cry a baby's cry
SOME SUNDAY MORNING!


GETTIN’ READY FOR THE NURSERY
By Martha Miranda © 1994

The days are coming
The angels are humming a new song
La La La
La La La La La La La La La
We've waited so very long
For the angels' new song
La La La
La La La La La La La La La
Gettin' ready for the nursery
Gettin' ready for the nursery
Gettin' ready for the nursery
La La La La La

A little child shall lead them
La La La La La
Getting ready for the nursery
La La La La La
All the angels are singing
La La La La La
We're getting ready for the nursery
La La La La La

Over His head, over His bed
A new name, spoken there
La La La
La La La La La La La La La
Hear the song of the angels
And a new name, He is come
La La La
La La La La La La La La La
Gettin' ready for the nursery
Gettin' ready for the nursery
Gettin' ready for the nursery
La La La La La

Glory to the Father
Glory to the Son
Glory to the new name, Shallum
Glory to the Son of the Son come down
Glory to the new name, Shallum

A little child shall lead them
La La La La La
We're getting ready for the nursery
La La La La La
All the angels are singing
La La La La La
We're getting ready for the nursery
La La La La La

Glory to the Father
Glory to the Son
Glory to the new name, Shallum
Glory to the Son of the Son come down
Glory to the new name, Shallum

Glory to the Father
Glory to the Son
Glory to the new name, Shallum
Glory to the Son of the Son come down
Glory to the new name, Shallum


LIGHT THE CANDLE
By Martha Miranda © 1994

Light the candle of love
Light the candle
Light the candle of love
Let the candle burn, burn, burn

Let the candle of love burn away
All the hatred
Let the candle of forgiveness
Light the pathway to salvation
Let the candle burn!
Let the candle burn!
Let the candle burn!
LIGHT THE CANDLE! Light the candle of peace
Light the candle
Light the candle of peace
Let the candle burn, burn, burn

Let the candle of peace burn away
All the hatred
Let the candle of forgiveness
Light the pathway to salvation
Let the candle burn!
Let the candle burn!
Let the candle burn!
LIGHT THE CANDLE! Light the candle of love
Light the candle
Light the candle of love
Light the candle
Let the candle burn
Let the candle burn
Let the candle burn
LIGHT THE CANDLE!


DOESN'T ANYBODY KNOW?
By Martha Miranda © 1994

When I try so very hard to understand
The dimness of my eyes
And the wrinkles in my hands
When I seek to ask the LORD
Just why these things are so
It seems no one can tell me
Doesn't anybody know?

Doesn't anybody know
When things will be all right?
Doesn't anybody know
When darkness will be light?
Doesn't anybody know
When tears and pain will end?
Doesn't anybody know?
Or doesn't anybody care? Why are little babies born
With hearts that don't work right?
And why are little children so hungry every night?
And why do men hate men so much
And only want to fight?
It seems no one can tell me
Doesn't anybody know? Doesn't anybody know
When things will be all right?
Doesn't anybody know
When darkness will be light?
Doesn't anybody know
When tears and pain will end?
Doesn't anybody know?
Or doesn't anybody care? Why are little babies born
With hearts that don't work right?
And why are little children so hungry every night?
And why do men hate men so much
And only want to fight?
It seems no one can tell me
Doesn't anybody know? It seems no one can tell me
Doesn't anybody know?
It seems no one can tell me
Doesn't anybody know?
It seems no one can tell me


TELL IT TO THE ANGELS
By Martha Miranda © 1994

Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels

Tell it to the angels
Jesus is coming again
Tell it to the angels
Jesus is coming again
He will testify to the Father
He will testify to the Father
He will testify to the Father your name If you tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels Tell it to the angels
You have heard the new name
Tell it to the angels
You have heard the new name
They’ll testify to the Father
They’ll testify to the Father
They’ll testify to the Father, your name If you tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels Tell it to the angels
Jesus is coming again
Tell it to the angels
Jesus is coming again
He will testify to the Father
He will testify to the Father
He will testify to the Father your name If you tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels
Tell it to the angels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


POISONED APPLES
By Martha Miranda © 1994

Mama always told me don't you eat any apples
That fall off the tree onto the ground
Mama always told me they had bugs and even worms
And might make me sick or even die

Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
That fall from the Tree of Life
Those apples might be big and pretty
Even shine and be so ripe
They might even taste so sweet
Don't eat the poisoned apples
You might get sick or even die

Don’t eat fallin’ apples
Don’t eat fallin’ apples
Don’t eat fallin’ apples

Mama always told me not to be so crazy lazy
She said climb up that ole tree to get my apple
Mama told me plain to shake the apple tree
To see if those apples were growing on the vine

Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
That fall from the Tree of life
Those apples might be big and pretty
Even shine and be so ripe
They might even taste so sweet
Don't eat the poisoned apples
You might get sick or even die

Don’t eat fallin’ apples
Don’t eat fallin’ apples
Don’t eat fallin’ apples

Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
Don't eat the poisoned apples
That fall from the Tree of life
Those apples might be big and pretty
Even shine and be so ripe
They might even taste so sweet
Don't eat the poisoned apples
You might get sick or even die

Don't eat the poisoned apples
The poisoned apples
The poisoned apples
You might get sick and even die
You might get sick and even die
You might die
Eating poisoned apples
Poisoned apples
Poisoned apples
You might get sick and even die
You might get sick and even die
You might die
Eating those poisoned apples
Poisoned apples
Eating poisoned apples


SEEK YE HIGHER GROUND
By Sonja Peterson & Martha Miranda © 1994

Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye to higher ground where I stand
Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye Me. I stand upon higher ground

LORD, why don't men want to seek you?
Why do they cast you aside?
Why can't they see in your Kingdom?
Why can't they hear how you've cried?
Truth is a sword men despise, child
For when it comes it divides
Righteousness from the unholy
True love from that which has died

Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye to higher ground where I stand
Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye Me. I stand upon higher ground

Father, in all of my weakness
Father, in spite of my pride
Father, through all of my fears, please
Use me to help turn this tide
Surely with all of your help, LORD
Your angels, your WORD, your NAME
There will be some who will hear me
The Name of SHALLUM proclaim

Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye to higher ground where I stand
Seek ye to higher ground where I am
Seek ye Me. I stand upon higher ground

Seek ye the higher ground
The higher ground where I am
Seek ye the higher ground
The higher ground where I stand
Who is the higher ground?
Who is the higher ground?
SHALLUM, SHALLUM
Is the higher ground


THOU ART MY HIDING PLACE
By Sonja Peterson & Martha Miranda © 1994

Thou art my hiding place
I rest in thee
Thou art my hiding place
There cannot be
Another mortal soul
To fill this place within my heart
Where only you can dwell
O liberty

Thou art my hiding place
I breathe in thee
Thou art my hiding place
LORD let me see
Beyond this life of flesh
Beyond the sun the moon the stars
Into eternity
O majesty Thou art my hiding place
I live in thee
Thou art my hiding place
I give to thee
This earthen vessel that
You might move mountains land and sea
To bring your Kingdom LORD
O let it be Thou art our hiding place
In a new name
Our heavenly Father comes
To free from pain
From sickness, sin and death
We are set free
We are set free
He is our hiding place
Shallum is He
From sickness, sin and death
I am set free
I am set free
He is my hiding place
Shallum is He


LISTEN TO THE SOUND
By Martha Miranda © 1994

Gather ye around listen to the sound
Of the angels..Listen to the sound
Gather ye around listen to the trumpets
Of the angels...Listen to the sound
Listen! Listen! Listen!

Gather them all before me
Gather them one by one
Gather them all before me
Gather them one by one
Listen to the Angels
Gathering the sinners
One by one by one! Sitting on the throne is the Mighty One
Go ye to the left. Go ye to the right
Sitting on the throne is the Glorified One
Go ye to the left. Go ye to right
Goats to the left. Sheep to the right
Stand ye in your place
And listen to the sound
Of the angels...Listen to the sound! Gather them all before me
Gather them one by one
Gather them all before me
Gather them one by one
Listen to the Angels
Gather the believers
One by one by one! Sitting on the throne is the Mighty One
Go ye to the left. Go ye to the right
Sitting on the throne is the Glorified One
Go ye to the left. Go ye to the right
Goats to the left. Sheep to the right
Stand ye in your place
And listen to the sound
Of the angels...Listen to the sound! Listen to the sound of the wailing
Go ye to the left. Go ye to the left.
Listen to the sound of the singing.
Go ye to the right. Go ye to the right.


MY FINEST DAY
By Martha Miranda © 1994

My finest day was yesterday
My finest hour is over
My finest triumph was on a hill
When the sound of a hammer rang

Who was it there that nailed those nails?
Who was it there that laughed at Me?
Who was it there that pierced my side?
Who was it there that won the battle?

My finest day shall come again
To judge the souls of men
My finest triumph on a hill
Was on a yesterday

Who was it there that nailed those nails?
Was it you?
Who was it there that laughed at me?
Was it you?
Who was it there that pierced my side?
Was it you?
Who was it there that won the battle?
Was it you? My finest day was yesterday
My finest hour is over
My finest triumph was on a hill
When the sound of a hammer rang!


From Cassette Tape SOME SUNDAY MORNING (SM 247)

Copyright 2001 © - All Right Reserved 2001 ®

SOME SUNDAY MORNING