Lord, help me thread the needle
For my sight has almost gone.
Houses nearly shattered,
the fabric has been torn:
Lord, your bride is tired and weary
And her dress is none too clean.
But I’ll ply the needle, mother,
To mend your tattered seam.
Lord, help me work the needle
Warp and woof are pulled apart:
--doors flung off their hinges
and windows painted shut—
Lord, your children strive for faithful
But are often cruel and mean.
Still, I’ll ply the needle, mother
To mend your tattered seam.
Lord, help me hold the needle
For my joints are stiff and sore.
--brothers in the courthouse
and sisters gone to war!
Lord, my heart is near to breaking
And my fingers crack and bleed.
Still I’ll ply the needle, mother,
To mend your tattered seam.
Lord, help me drive the needle
Through this coarse and ragged cloth.
I can’t see the pattern;
the color’s all but lost...
Lord, please help me drive the needle
And I’ll help reweave the dream.
Then we’ll ply the needle, mother,
To mend your tattered seam.
Yes! We'll ply the needle, mother,
To mend your tattered seam.
