Once upon a time in churches of old, the Velcro wave had yet to unfold,
Flannel was king, and Sunday school know how to make those bible heroes stick like glue,
Oh, how to make ‘em stick with you,
Flannelgraph lions, mounted and mean, the prophet Daniel in between,
Head toward Heaven, sturdy and true,
A man of God who did not fear the gods of men,
No, he didn’t fear the lion’s den.
Every age, at every stage, lions rage,
Pray, stand your ground,
They’ll lie down.
Dumb struck, I was shaken and stirred,
He wouldn’t kowtow, he kept God’s word,
Teacher said, “Son, this could be you, put your trust in God and not the praise of men, you won’t fear the lion’s den”
Every age, at every stage, lions rage,
Pray, stand your ground,
They’ll lie down.
And if we play by lion’s rules we start lionizing fools,
God wrote the book,
He’ll fortify, and like the eagles we will fly,
We’re gonna fly.
Late one night in a fevered dream, the prophet Daniel appeared to me,
“Sir,” I said, “I’ve lost my nerve, I lip-serve God and put my faith in godless men, oh I fear the lions den,”
(Then he said,) “Who says I’m not a feline-phobe? Who says I wasn’t ready to wet my robe? Faith is tough, boy, but God gives grace; so take a deep breath, head up, set your face like flint…oh, stop being a wimp.”
Every age, at every stage, lions rage,
Pray, stand your ground,
They’ll back down.
Lions lie down.
