Mark Bishop Music




I Still Need Him
I’m Listening for the Call Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI When I was a little boy, I heard about the last days Some morning when the Lord will come again I remember how the Saints of Old sang about his coming Guess I didn’t think that much about it then Soon the years took me far away and church became a memory I lived my life believing they were wrong But everyday I live I see those prophesies fulfilling By the signs of the times, I believe it won’t be long In the east, on a cloud He’ll be coming for his children And the monuments of sin will surely fall I can see by the word that the day is drawing nearer I’m not looking for the signs anymore I’m listening for the call Take a look in the Bible and you’ll read of war and famine You’ll read about when men will fall away Two thousand years ago upon the pages that was written But I’m telling you it sounds just like today In the east, on a cloud He’ll be coming for his children And the monuments of sin will surely fall I can see by the word that the day is drawing nearer I’m not looking for the signs anymore I’m listening for the call I can see by the word that the day is drawing nearer I’m not looking for the signs anymore I’m listening for the call . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . God Builds Churches with Broken People Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI Searching through the ashes of the person that I was When devastation came, I found, my strength was not enough A light stood shining on a hill, through tears my eyes could see Upon the path I saw that there were others just like me Broken vessels, just like me Oh but God builds churches With broken people With hurting people With searching people And somehow these imperfect people Find strength to make it through And the broken become brand new They have come from everywhere, from every walk of life Each one beneath the traveler’s load of pain or guilt or strife They have come to see His face and in His light they bow With shattered dreams and broken hearts, yet with His hands, somehow With loving hands somehow God builds churches with broken people With hurting people With searching people And somehow these imperfect people Find strength to make it through And the broken become brand new God builds churches with broken people With hurting people With searching people And somehow these imperfect people Find strength to make it through And the broken become brand new And the broken become brand new . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Job’s Wife Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI She had a good man, with livestock and good land God gave them daughters and sons They worked everyday, never failing to pray and to Thank God for all He had done Job was renowned for the faith he had found and His wife stood strong at his side For years she adored him but now she cried for him As their faith was tested and tried Long nights she lay weeping, it seemed God was heaping More suffering than they could bear The workers and the farm, and the children all gone So broken, she no longer cared Job could find no relief She watched his pain and grief All he’d lost, she had lost too She said “Just curse God and die,” fell to her knees and cried There was nothing else she could do Just say a prayer A prayer for Job’s wife But by the Grace of God Such heartache could enter your life Don’t judge her too harshly till you’ve known her strife Just say a prayer Thank God you’re not there With the care of Job’s wife Just say a prayer A prayer for Job’s wife But by the Grace of God Such heartache could enter your life Don’t judge her too harshly till you’ve known her strife Just say a prayer Thank God you’re not there With the care of Job’s wife Oh just say a prayer Thank God you’re not there With the care of Job’s wife . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . My Name Is Jesus Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI My name is Matthew You might have seen me Preaching and singing on these dusty streets Just one of many who were following Jesus We were all witness to miraculous feats Maybe you just heard last week they took Him On Friday my Lord was hung on a cross It’s been three days now and I feel so empty It’s Sunday morning and I feel so lost My name is Mary My heart is heavy I’ve cried so much, I can’t cry anymore How could this happen? He was so gentle I’ve never met a man like Him before How I adored Him how I believed Him Such a sweet peace when He walked in the room I washed his feet, oh but lately I can’t sleep It’s Sunday morning, think I’ll visit His tomb My name is Peter Maybe they told you I had denied Him I’m sorry it’s true He knew my weakness still He forgave me I stood up to the soldiers, there were only a few But I felt His hand come to rest on my shoulder He lowered my sword “Is this what I’ve taught?” That’s when they took Him; later they beat Him It’s Sunday morning; I wish now I’d fought I am a soldier I am a Roman I saw the wound in His side, cut so deep I have been stationed all night at his graveside But it’s Sunday morning, and I fell asleep There in the darkness the earth shook and trembled The tomb was found empty the stone rolled away Mary left weeping on the path was a stranger In the first light of Sunday, she asked Him His name She asked Him His name “My name is Jesus!” He said “my name is Jesus and I have returned from the grave in fulfillment of my Father’s plan I marched into hell, past the gates of that Kingdom And I have returned with the keys in my hand I am the son of God I’m the redeemer I’m the great shepherd and I am the Lamb I was the crucified sacrifice Friday night But it’s Sunday morning and I am alive! My name is Jesus! (Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive!) Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive! My name is Jesus! (Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive!) Tell all the world he’s alive, he’s alive! My name is Jesus! (Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive!) Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive! My name is Jesus! (Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive!) Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive! My name is Jesus! (Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive!) Tell all the world He’s alive, He’s alive! My name is Jesus! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Are You Going Where I’m Going Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI God gave John a vision a city coming down There was no more night no more sorrow to be found John beheld the gates of pearl he saw the jasper walls His mind could hardly take it in His eyes could hardly see it all If you’re going where I’m going One day we’ll be strolling down heaven’s golden avenue If you’re going where I’m going A river will be flowin’ and angels singing glory to His name John beheld a great throne he couldn’t see God’s face But every fear he ever had just disappeared without a trace A tree of life before him a brand new robe and crown He couldn’t wait to tell it No, he couldn’t wait to write it down If you’re going where I’m going One day we’ll be strolling down Heaven’s golden avenue If you’re going where I’m going A river will be flowin’ and angels singing glory to His name There’s an old-time preacher a Bible in his hand He tells the congregation all about a better land Are you going where I’m going? John saw walls of jasper John saw streets of gold One day we’ll be strolling down Heaven’s golden avenue John saw amazing things, the half of which has not been told If you’re going where I’m going John saw walls of jasper John saw streets of gold A river will be flowin’ and angels singing glory to his name John saw amazing things, the half of which has not been told Are you going where I’m going? (John saw a holy city coming down) One day we’ll be strolling down Heaven’s golden avenue If you’re going where I’m going (John saw the angels heard a brand new song) A river will be flowin’ and angels singing glory to His name And angels singing glory to His name (Eyes have never seen) And angels singing glory to his name (Ears have never heard) And angels singing glory to his name (To His name) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I Still Need Him Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI There’s a whisper in the autumn breeze and I can hear it say I still need Him; I still need Him It’s a voice that lives inside my heart, reminds me everyday I still need Him; I still need Him When I’m standing on the mountain, even then I realize I still need Him; I still need Him I may be smiling on the outside, oh but look into my eyes I still need Him; I still need Him Thank you Lord for saving me, and for the cross at Calvary a sacrifice for everyone to see In agony with every breath, yet even on the verge of death I needed Jesus more than He needed me When I think about my journey, and the miles still yet to go I still need Him yes I still need Him There are good days and there are bad days, oh but every day I find I still need Him; I still need Him I may not be like the lame man, may not be like the blind, but I still need Him; I still need Him When I’m high upon the mountain, or in the valley low I still need Him; I still need Him I don’t know what waits around the bend, but I know he’s in control I still need Him; I still need Him Thank you Lord for saving me, and for the cross at Calvary a sacrifice for everyone to see In agony with every breath, yet even on the verge of death I needed Jesus more than He needed me When I think about my journey, and the miles still yet to go I still need Him; I still need Him Oh I still need Him; I still need Him I still need him . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It’s My Turn Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI They rushed in to the prodigal’s father Said “We have seen him He’s walking this way Should we stop him? Tell him he is not welcome?” But the father pushed through them they heard him say No, it’s my turn to stand at the gate see the look on his face at last hold him close It’s my turn to wrap him in love hand him new garments it’s my turn to welcome him home The word doesn’t give clues to the story who may have died first, the father or son If the son left and found himself waiting In heaven recalling the love he was shown Then one day they’d bring him the message They’d say “We have seen him walking this way Soon your father will be greeted by angels.” But the son pushed right through them, and they heard him say No, it’s my turn to stand at the gate see the look on his face at last hold him close It’s my turn to wrap him in love hand him new garments it’s my turn to welcome him home Some day I’ll open my eyes in heaven! On that day someone will say No, it’s my turn to stand at the gate see the look on his face at last hold him close It’s my turn to wrap him in love hand him new garments it’s my turn to welcome him home It’s my turn to welcome him home It’s my turn to welcome him home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Your Easter Sunday Is on It’s Way Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMII’ve been right where you are I know all about the pain and the scars And yes, I listen when you pray My heart is touched by every word you say For I remember how the tears flowed Oh their memory will never fade And child, the years have not diminished the promise that I made Your Easter Sunday is on its way Though on Friday night it seems a million miles away And if your Saturday’s in darkness, you’re waiting for the light of day I’m here to say your Easter Sunday is on its way That valley seems so low, but in the darkness there’s a light that glows A tender mercy from above For when there’s nothing there is still God’s love And when they tell you there is no hope, well that’s just words that people say Soon that burden will be lifted and that stone will roll away Your Easter Sunday is on its way Though on Friday night it seems a million miles away And if your Saturday’s in darkness, you’re waiting for the light of day I’m here to say your Easter Sunday is on its way Your Easter Sunday is on its way Though on Friday night it seems a million miles away And if your Saturday’s in darkness, you’re waiting for the light of day I’m here to say your Easter Sunday is on its way I’m here to say your Easter Sunday is on its way . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That’s the Sound of a House Being Built on Love Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI A little boy sits in the church house on an Easter Day He sees a man called Jesus in a passion play And when they nail him to the cross, the boy begins to cry As the hammer rings, the preacher pulls the young boy to his side (Says…) That’s the sound of a house being built on love That’s where Grace built the walls and a roof up above It’s the sound of a nail through the wings of a dove But that’s the sound of a house being built on love So the deacons dressed as soldiers with their plastic spears Tell the story that’s been passed down for two-thousand years And as the congregation watches from the darkened halls They listen to the ringing of the hammer as it falls That’s the sound of a house being built on love That’s where Grace built the walls and a roof up above It’s the sound of a nail through the wings of a dove But that’s the sound of a house being built on love That’s the sound of a house being built on love That’s where Grace built the walls and a roof up above It’s the sound of a nail through the wings of a dove But that’s the sound of a house being built on love When He cried “It is finished,” to His Father above That’s the sound of a house being built on love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One Drop of Blood Became a River Mark Bishop Possum Run Music/BMI • Chris White Music/BMI • Asheville Music Publishing/BMI Coarse heavy timbers were dragged down the path Two rough hewn beams, fastened together by nails and by straps The birds hushed their singing; from the crowd only jeers His muscle and sinew glistened in crimson, His eyes moist with tears He lay looking upward The angels searched his face They drove in the nails and the soldiers they lifted the cross into place No-one really noticed, for it made not a sound So small as it formed, that first drop of blood when it fell to the ground But one drop of blood became a river With power to wash all sins away There was a miracle no-one could see The greatest of all, He saved just for me when one drop of blood became a river One drop of blood became a river With power to wash all sins away There was a miracle no-one could see The greatest of all, he saved just for me when one drop of blood became a river He healed the sick, gave sight to the blind But his greatest gift to all of mankind One drop of blood became a river One drop of blood became a river
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