“How good can the good Lord be,”
My Pepaw used to say,
That He would even think of me
And spare me on that day?
I still can see the white of the truck before my eyes
I hear the scream of metal, feel the peace He supplies
His protection victorious
His hand ever present
His plan deemed glorious
His Word so pleasant
I’m overwhelmed, overjoyed, raptured at the thought
That though I be a sinful mess, my humble heart He sought
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