Rock of Ages cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

It was a stylish congregation
You could see they had been around
And they had the biggest pipe organ
Of any church in town.

But over in the amen corner
Of that church sat Ol' Brother Ire
And every Sunday he insisted
On singing in the choir.

His voice was cracked and broken
Age had touched his vocal chords
And nearly every Sunday
He would get behind and miss the words.

Well, the choir got so flustered
The church was told then fine
Brother Ire must quit his singing
Or the choir is going to resign.

So the pastor appointed a committee
I think it was three or four
They got in their big fine car
Drove up to Ire's door.

They found the choirs great trouble
Sitting there in a big armed chair
The summers golden sum beam
Lay upon his snow-white hair.

Said York, We're here
With the Vestry's approbation
To discuss a little matter
That affects the congregation.

Now it seems your voice
Is interfering with the choir
So if you will just lay out
Are you listening Brother Ire?

The old man raised his head
A sign 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 wonder if beyond the tide
That is breaking at my feet
In that far off heavenly temple
Where my Master I shall meet.

I wonder if when I try to sing
The songs of God up higher
Will they kick me out up there
For singing in Heavens Choir?"

A silence filled the room
The old man bowed his head
The committee went on back to town
But Brother Ire was dead.

The choir missed him for awhile
But it soon forgot
A few church goers watched the door
But the old man entered not.

From far away his voice is sweet now
And he sings his hearts desires
Where there are no committees
And no fashionable choirs.

Rock of age's cleft for me
Let me hide myself in Thee...