Chapel

I have said a thousand prayers, In a thousand of his mansions, On the hardest wooden benches, Finding faith in minute rations... That every time I closed my eyes, I opened them to see, The statue fore the stained glass, That keeps staring back at me... The echo from the alter, As the preacher takes a stand, Starts shaking the foundation, As he slowly raise his hands... But even if his blessings, Doesn't reach beyond my pew, I stand upon inspection, With a sense of some renew... So when I'm resurrected, He'll look in my eyes and see, I carried all his blessings, In the chapel within me...