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She never stopped, she never quit,
Not even a tiny, little bit.
If I’d done wrong she’d hammer on me,
Because she cared so much you see.

As a child, she protected me the best she could,
And she always emphasized the importance of being good.
As I grew older my own thoughts would take over the way I felt,
But they never stopped momma from praying with her arms upheld.

A rebellious youth, with no rhyme or reason for things that I would do,
And a mother at home praying that the Lord would see me through.
I became a man with hardened ways, and often bitter thoughts,
But now I had a wife and mom, who both prayed, that it would be the Lord’s salvation that
someday I sought.

And as the years seemed to mellow me out somewhat,
And the wrongs had a way of putting me on the spot.
I finally realized I wasn’t the one who was in control,
It was God all along and those prayers that laid heavy on my soul.

He knew someday that I’d be His and understand,
That his plans for me were much more grand.
That serving Him is such a treat,
And all I had to do was lay it all, at my Savior’s feet.

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