Trouble In the Amen Corner

(Rock of ages cleft for me.)
 It was a stylish congregation
 You could see they'd been around
 And they had the biggest pipe organ
 Of any church in town.
 But over in the Amen Corner of that church
 Sat Brother Ira
 And he insisted every Sunday
 On singing in the choir.
 His voice was cracked and broken
 Age had touched his vocal chords
 And nearly every Sunday
 He'd get behind and miss the words.
 Well, at last the storm cloud burst
 And the church was told in vine
 That Brother Ira must stop his singing
 Or the choir was gonna resign.
 So the pastor appointed a committee
 I think it was three or four
 And they got their big fine car
 And drove up to Ira's door.
 They found the choir's great trouble
 Sittin' in an old arm chair
 And the summer's golden sunbeams
 Lay upon his snow white hair.
 Said York we're here dear Brother
 With the best resapprobation
 To discuss a little matter
 That affects the congregation.
 Now it was our understanding
 When we bargained for the chair
 That they were to relieve us
 That is they'd do the singin' for us.
 Now we don't want no singin'
 Except what we've bought
 The newest tunes are all the rage
 The old ones stand for nought.
 And so we have decided
 Are you listenin' Brother Ira
 You'll have to stop your singin'
 It's messin' up our choir.
 The old man raised his head
 A sign that he did hear
 And on his cheek the three men
 Caught the glitter of a tear.
 His feeble hands pushed back the locks
 As white as silky snow
 And he answered the committee
 In a voice both soft and low.
 I've sung the songs of David
 Nearly eighty years said he
 They've been my staff and comfort
 All along life's dreary way.
 I'm sorry if I disturbed the choir
 I guess I'm doin' wrong
 But when my heart is filled with praise
 I can't hold back a song.
 I wonder if beyond the tide
 That's breaking at my feet
 In that far off heavenly temple
 Where my Master I shall meet.
 Yes, I wonder if when I try to sing
 The songs of God up higher
 I wonder if they'll kick me out
 Up there for singin' in Heaven's choir.
 A silence filled the little room
 The old man bowed his head
 The committee went on back to town
 But Brother Ira was dead.
 Oh, the choir missed him for a while
 But he was soon forgot
 And a few church goers watched the door
 But the old man entered not.
 Far away his voice is sweet
 And he sings his heart's desire
 Where there are no church committees
 And no fashionable choirs.
 (Let me hide myself in Thee...)