Intro: C
Em
This is a story that began long, long ago
Am F
I was a young oak tree in dark Missouri soil
C
And like all other saplings I had dreams of growing
G
Strong and tall
C Em
But one day a rebel with a bullet in his chest
Am F
Hung his rifle on my limbs and laid to rest
C
And there beside me as the blood soaked to my roots
G
The soldier sang
A song of grace
Am C F C
C Em
The heavy rifle bowed me over to the ground
Am F
Two years I stayed this way until the rifle fell
C
And in this manner for a hundred years I grew
G
All my dreams
Not meant to be
C Em
And then one day two men came with a cross cut saw
Am F
They spoke of how my arch would hold a weight so strong
C
And I feared not the blade for such a worthy cause
G
And so I fell
I gladly fell
Am C F Em Dm G Am
F G
Three winter days aboard a northbound train
Am G
Three more beneath the hewer's careful blade
F G
And while he worked he praised my rich red grain
F G
Perhaps it was the soldier's blood that day
C Em
Now I'm the wooden arch that holds a mighty bell
Am F
Three stocks before me cracked but I shall never fail
C
Up in a tall cathedral high above my dreams
G
Of long ago
C Em
And on Sunday mornings when I hear that sweet refrain
Am F
I see the soldier's face like it was yesterday
C G
Calling angels down from heaven with that hymn he softly sang
Of God's good grace
Outro: Am C F Em Dm G Am C F Em Dm G C