Sunday Best
Phyllis Sinclair
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
Of all the days of the week I remember Sunday best That day was somehow different not like all the rest Couldn’t chop the wood or sew, and all the stores were closed Nothing moved in town, but the old church bell With Sunday dinner done, the house would rest awhile I’d hang my Sunday dress, and take my thoughts outside In the quiet of that day, my mind would drift away Sitting on the back door step, with time to wonder why How high does the sun hang up there in the sky? Where did it come from and how did it get its light? What’s inside the ocean, and what makes shore waves sigh? Time for the questions of a child With the reins of the saw horse on the back door step I saddled up my guesses and my precepts Took them for a ride, in stillness we made strides As shadows grew, my world blew open wide Come evening after supper with the candle low I’d pull the flannel sheet back from my window Felt the cool evening chill, the night was just as still As daytime after church, we left ten hours ago Why is there dust on the wings of the butterfly? Why does one star burn so dim, while another star burns bright? Where do rainbows come from and what makes wrong and right? Time for the questions of a child Sundays in that town have never left my mind Cut through all the places that I’ve left behind What six days didn’t give, my quiet Sunday’s did Opened up my eyes and keep me mystified Of all the days of the week I remember Sunday best That day was somehow different not like all the rest Didn’t chop the wood or sew, and all the stores were closed Nothing moved in town, but the old church bell
Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer
Translation
Translate these lyrics to another language:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add these lyrics to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Sunday Best Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/sublyric/94475/Phyllis+Sinclair/Sunday+Best>.
Powered by CITE.ME
Discuss these Sunday Best Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In