I've heard about this all my life,
my Home in Beulah Land;
Those pearly gates and streets of gold,
all formed by Your own hand.
I hear You've built a mansion there,
a special place for me;
Its on a hill with greenest grass,
beside a Crystal Sea!
Now Lord don't take this wrong at all,
I'm thankful for all things;
But since I'm just a country boy,
a mansions not my dream.
A little place, just outside town,
surrounded by huge trees;
The sounds of nature at my door,
would be morefit for me!
A broken down old picket fence;
with squeaky wooden gates;
A muddy road not travel worn,
to me would five star rate!
A tire swing hung 'round a branch,
the buzz of honeybees;
A bed so full of daffodils,
a few small dogwood trees.
A cozy place to call my Home,
a noisy front porch swing;
No more I'd want for all of time,
but place to hang my wings!
You see My Lord, not hard to please,
I'm just a simple man;
A cabin made from Heavn'ly logs,
now THAT'D be Glory Land!