Brooks Garth Fit For A King Lyrics

Fit For A King Lyrics

His pulpit's a corner on Nineteenth and Main.
His grip on the Gospel, his one
claim to fame.
He hurls fire and brimstone at the cars passing by,
and he
offers salvation for the Savior on high.
His khakis are tattered and he
ain't bathed in weeks.
His bout with the bottle shows up on his
cheeks.
He looks like a scarecrow, a sight to behold,
as he works for the
Shepherd, bringin' lambs to the fold.
He points to the Bible he holds in his
hands,
says, "I'm proof that the Good Lord can save any man."
Son, it
ain't what you're drivin'
or the clothes that you wear.
Material
possessions
won't matter up there.
And someday in heaven,
when the
angels all sing,
these rags that I'm wearin'
will be fit for a
king.
He's fightin' a fever,
but in spite of the chill,
he pulls up
his collar
and speaks of God's will.
His body is weakened,
but his
faith is still strong,
for he's filled with conviction
for the mission
he's on.
He knows soon in heaven
he'll be homeless no more,
as his
work will soon echo
from that far distant shore.
Son, it ain't what
you're drivin'
or the clothes that you wear.
Material
possessions
won't matter up there.
And someday in heaven,
when the
angels all sing,
these rags that I'm wearin'
will be fit for a
king.
Someday in heaven,
when angels all sing,
well, these rags that
I'm wearin'
will be fit for a king,
will be fit for a king.