Thunder From Angelus
-
1 How Will You Remember Me
Show Lyrics
Oh—
How will you remember me?
How will you remember me?
They wrote my name in headlines
But never wrote my heart
They took the truth in pieces
And tore the whole apart
They sold the crowd a scandal
They dressed suspicion bright
Then called the shadows evidence
And buried me in night
Lie one, she ran
Lie two, she planned
Lie three, no chains
No desert, no man
Lie four, she smiled
Lie five, she staged
Lie six, she preached
For power and fame
How will you remember me
When the fire breaks through the lies?
Will you read the names they called me
Or look me in the eyes?
They tarred me with the rumors
Feathered me with shame
But truth still rises
Truth still rises
You can’t bury my name
How would you feel
If it happened to you?
If the whole world knew the rumor
But never heard the truth?
They said my tears were acting
They said my wounds were planned
They weighed my soul for profit
With newspapers in hand
They mocked the words I carried
They laughed at answered prayer
Then wondered why a wounded world
Could not find justice there
Lie seven, no bruises
Lie eight, no fear
Lie nine, no captors
Were ever near
Lie ten, she broke
Lie eleven, she fell
Lie twelve, let the papers
Drag her through hell
How will you remember me
When the fire breaks through the lies?
Will you read the names they called me
Or look me in the eyes?
They tarred me with the rumors
Feathered me with shame
But truth still rises
Truth still rises
You can’t bury my name
How would you feel
If it happened to you?
If the whole world knew the rumor
But never heard the truth?
Would you stand so steady
With your children watching on?
Would you keep on preaching
When your good name was gone?
Would you feed the hungry
While the cruel demanded more?
Would you lift the fallen
With wolves outside the door?
Would you still believe in mercy
When mercy was denied?
Would you still speak of heaven
While they crucified your life?
Would you forgive the voices
That profited from pain?
Would you rise up in the morning
And serve God again?
Lie thirteen, she was finished
Lie fourteen, she was fraud
Lie fifteen, no true servant
Could ever be flawed
Lie sixteen, let the rumors
Stand taller than the facts
Lie seventeen, once accused
You never get your honor back
But truth still rises
Truth still rises
Truth still rises
Truth still rises
How will you remember me
When the fire breaks through the lies?
Will you search for what was hidden
Or inherit their disguise?
They tarred me with the rumors
Feathered me with shame
But truth still rises
Truth still rises
You can’t bury my name
How would you feel
If it happened to you?
If your pain became a circus
And the falsehoods all felt true?
How would you feel
If the crowd refused to see
That the one they called a scandal
Was still a soul saying
Remember me
Not for the rumors
Not for the trial
Not for the cruel and crooked file
Remember the courage
Remember the call
Remember I stood
When they wanted me to fall
Truth still rises
Truth still rises
How will you remember me? -
2 The Fire Still Knew My Name
Show Lyrics
I crossed the sea with a wedding ring,
a Bible worn against my heart,
a young bride chasing heaven’s call,
not knowing grief would play its part.
The lanterns burned in a foreign street,
the voices rose I could not know,
but I had promised God my yes,
and followed where His winds would blow.
I was young enough to dream,
old enough to pray,
far from every hand I knew,
when mercy seemed away.
But the fire still knew my name,
when the night came closing in.
The fire still knew my name,
when I had no strength to stand again.
When the language failed,
when the fever came,
when the whole world changed,
the fire still knew my name.
I watched his body lose the fight,
I held the silence in the room,
a mother’s life within my own,
a widow standing by a tomb.
No choir sang me safely home,
no crowd was there to understand,
just sorrow wrapped around my soul,
and one small Bible in my hand.
I was carrying a child,
I was carrying a cross,
I was learning how a calling
can be born inside a loss.
But the fire still knew my name,
when the night came closing in.
The fire still knew my name,
when I had no strength to stand again.
When the language failed,
when the fever came,
when the whole world changed,
the fire still knew my name.
I crossed the sea with a wedding ring,
came home with a child and a widow’s name.
I buried my youth in a fevered room,
but the fire of God still knew my name.
I did not come home empty,
though everything had changed.
I carried more than sorrow,
I carried holy flame.
Yes, the fire still knew my name,
when the morning would not rise.
The fire still knew my name,
through the tears I could not hide.
From the mission field,
to the mother’s pain,
from the graveyard ground
to the gospel flame —
the fire still knew my name.
I crossed the sea with a wedding ring,
came home with a child and a widow’s name.
I buried my youth in a fevered room,
but the fire of God still knew my name. -
3 Let the Witness Stand
Show Lyrics
They lit the town with headlines
Black ink across the dawn
A woman rose from desert dust
And still they called her wrong
They measured every tear she cried
They mocked the wounds she bore
They made a courtroom out of grief
Then turned and asked for more
But truth does not need permission
And fire does not fear the night
She came back with a witness
And heaven heard her fight
Let the witness stand
Let the liars fall
Let the truth rise higher
Than the headlines on the wall
They can curse her name
They can crown their lies
But the fire in her testimony
Is still alive
The papers sold suspicion
The pulpits passed it on
The friends who once cried Sister
Turned colder than the stone
They wanted her confession
To match the tale they spun
But she would not sell her sorrow
To please anyone
How would you feel
If it happened to you
If the wound became the weapon
And the lie became the proof
Let the witness stand
Let the liars fall
Let the truth rise higher
Than the headlines on the wall
They can curse her name
They can crown their lies
But the fire in her testimony
Is still alive
Angelus heard the crying
Of hungry, broken souls
She opened up the doors again
And gave them bread and hope
They thought the storm would end her
They thought the shame would win
But mercy found the microphone
And she preached again
Not every scar is scandal
Not every tear is guilt
Some temples made of gossip
Are the first ones to be split
Let the witness stand
Let the liars fall
Let the truth rise higher
Than the headlines on the wall
They can curse her name
They can crown their lies
But the fire in her testimony
Is still alive
False witnesses
Let them fall
Slanderers
Let them fall
Headline hunters
Let them fall
Holy accusers
Let them fall
Say it louder
Tell the truth
Write it cleaner
Tell the truth
She was wounded
But not defeated
She was hated
But still believed
She walked through the desert
She walked through the shame
She walked through the fire
Still calling His name
She walked past the questions
She walked past their plans
With dust on her garment
And truth in her hands
Let the witness stand
Let the liars fall
Let the truth rise higher
Than the headlines on the wall
They can curse her name
They can crown their lies
But the fire in her testimony
Is still alive
Let the witness stand
Let the shadows break
Let the bells of Angelus
Ring over every ache
She came out of darkness
She came back to the light
And the fire in her testimony
Is still alive
The witness stands
The witness stands
The truth survives
The truth survives
They tried to bury her
But she rose in the fire
They tried to shame her
But the truth rose higher
Still alive
Still alive
Still alive
Still alive
The witness stands
The witness stands
The truth survives
The truth survives -
4 No Road For a Woman
Show Lyrics
They said the pulpit was not mine,
said the Book was not my place,
said a woman ought to lower her eyes
and learn a quieter grace.
But I had buried love in fever,
I had crossed the hungry sea,
I had held a child and sorrow,
and the Lord still spoke through me.
So I packed the Word in a weathered bag,
tied my courage to my shoes,
if they would not build a road for me,
I had nothing left to lose.
There was no road for a woman,
so I walked one through the dust.
No door held open kindly,
so I opened it because I must.
With a Bible in my left hand,
and a fire in my lungs,
I stood where they said I should not stand,
and preached what must be sung.
I rode the rails through winter towns,
slept where the lamps burned low,
with a baby’s cry behind me
and a sermon in my bones.
Men with collars watched me closely,
women whispered, “Can it be?”
But the sick came forward weeping,
and the lost fell to their knees.
I was tired down to the marrow,
I was hungry, I was blamed,
but every town that tried to stop me
only learned to speak my name.
There was no road for a woman,
so I walked one through the dust.
No door held open kindly,
so I opened it because I must.
With a Bible in my left hand,
and a fire in my lungs,
I stood where they said I should not stand,
and preached what must be sung.
They drew their lines through holy rooms,
said, “This side here, that side there,”
but I could not preach a Savior
who would sort His children’s prayers.
Black and white and poor and stranger,
rich man, widow, child, and lame,
if the altar was for mercy,
then the mercy had one name.
So I tore no soul from the welcome,
I asked no heart to stand outside,
for I would not build God’s altar
with a color line inside.
There was no road for a woman,
so I walked one through the dust.
No door held open kindly,
so I opened it because I must.
With a Bible in my left hand,
and a fire in my lungs,
I stood where they said I should not stand,
and preached what must be sung.
Not for fame and not for favor,
not for silver, not applause,
but for every soul still waiting
on the far side of the walls.
For the daughters told to hush now,
for the widows told to fade,
for the poor left at the back door,
for the broken and afraid.
For the ones they kept divided,
for the ones pushed to the side,
I would not build God’s altar
with a color line inside.
Tell me who was going to go there,
if I stayed where I was told?
Tell me who would light the tent fires,
who would call the wandering home?
Tell me who would cross the old lines,
if the called ones feared the flame?
Tell me who would open mercy,
if we locked it in our name?
There was no road for a woman,
so I walked one through the dust.
No door held open kindly,
so I opened it because I must.
With a Bible in my left hand,
and a fire in my lungs,
I stood where they said I should not stand,
and preached what must be sung.
There was no road for a woman,
but the road remembers me.
Every mile became a witness,
every town a testimony.
I was not the quiet shadow
they had prayed that I’d become.
I was a woman with a calling,
I was thunder on the run.
There was no road for a woman,
there was no room for the flame,
so I crossed the lines they guarded
and I called them all by name.
No color at the altar,
no locked door to the poor,
no silence for the daughters,
no fear could rule me anymore.
They said the pulpit was not mine,
said the road would break my name.
But I walked it with a Bible,
and I left it lit with flame. -
5 The Sawdust Call
Show Lyrics
The tent was raised by the railroad track,
the lamps were smoking low,
the sawdust held a thousand steps
of people come and go.
A card man stood with shaking hands,
a bottle hid in shame,
a mother held her fevered child
and whispered Jesus’ name.
Then she opened up the Bible,
not soft and not for show,
and every heart went quiet
when she said what sinners know.
Turn around, come home,
leave the dark road where you roam.
There is blood enough for pardon,
there is bread enough for stone.
Come broken, come guilty,
come weary, come blind,
Jesus is calling,
do not stay behind.
She looked toward the back row
where the hard men crossed their arms,
where the proud ones wore religion
like a coat against alarm.
She said, “You cannot buy the kingdom,
you cannot charm the grave,
you cannot drink your soul clean,
you cannot sin and call it brave.”
Then the room began to tremble,
not from thunder, not from rain,
but from truth laid on the conscience
like a hand upon a chain.
Turn around, come home,
leave the dark road where you roam.
There is blood enough for pardon,
there is bread enough for stone.
Come broken, come guilty,
come weary, come blind,
Jesus is calling,
do not stay behind.
A woman near the side wall
kept her bruises out of sight,
a boy who stole for supper
would not lift his eyes to light.
A rich man counted silver,
a preacher nursed his pride,
a girl who thought God hated her
sat trembling just inside.
Then she did not name their secrets,
but the Spirit knew them all,
and mercy moved among them
like a bell that had to call.
Turn around, come home,
leave the dark road where you roam.
There is blood enough for pardon,
there is bread enough for stone.
Come broken, come guilty,
come weary, come blind,
Jesus is calling,
do not stay behind.
Healer for the fevered child,
Savior for the stained,
King above the courthouse,
Lord above the grave.
Friend to every widow,
bread for every poor,
fire for the frozen heart,
key for every door.
The bottle hit the sawdust,
the cards fell from a sleeve,
the proud man bowed his shoulders,
the thief began to weep.
The mother lifted up her child,
the lost came down the aisle,
and heaven seemed to lean in close
for just a little while.
Turn around, come home,
leave the dark road where you roam.
There is blood enough for pardon,
there is bread enough for stone.
Come broken, come guilty,
come weary, come blind,
Jesus is calling,
do not stay behind.
Turn around, come home,
let the old life lose its claim.
There is healing in His garment,
there is power in His name.
Come sinner, come daughter,
come father, come son,
Jesus is King now,
and mercy has come.
The lamps burned low by the railroad track,
the night wind moved the flame,
but those who entered lost and bound
went home another name. -
6 Angelus Temple
Show Lyrics
The morning rose on Los Angeles,
gold on the hills and the wires,
streetcars rang by the market stalls,
smoke climbed from a thousand fires.
Engines coughed on the boulevard,
new shoes stepped from the rain,
and all roads seemed to bend that day
toward a temple with her name.
Not marble for the mighty,
not velvet for the few,
but open doors and lifted hands
where the broken entered too.
Angelus Temple, ring your bells,
let the city hear the sound.
From the hills to the harbor,
let the mercy come down.
For the weary and the wounded,
for the lost who need a sign,
raise the roof with hallelujah,
throw the doors open wide.
The balconies filled like morning clouds,
hats and collars row on row,
mothers came with restless children,
old men moved in slow.
The sick were brought in careful arms,
the poor came dressed in best,
the rich sat near the laborer,
all hungry for the rest.
And there she stood beneath the lights,
not timid, not afraid,
with a Bible worn from travel
and a voice the road had made.
Angelus Temple, ring your bells,
let the city hear the sound.
From the hills to the harbor,
let the mercy come down.
For the weary and the wounded,
for the lost who need a sign,
raise the roof with hallelujah,
throw the doors open wide.
The choir rose in robes of white,
the organ shook the floor,
flowers climbed the platform steps,
ushers lined the door.
A microphone caught the morning fire,
sent it sailing through the air,
and homes that could not reach the hall
heard a preacher meet them there.
Over rooftops, farms, and rail yards,
over kitchens, shops, and beds,
the gospel crossed the distance
like a hand upon a head.
Angelus Temple, ring your bells,
let the city hear the sound.
From the hills to the harbor,
let the mercy come down.
For the weary and the wounded,
for the lost who need a sign,
raise the roof with hallelujah,
throw the doors open wide.
This was not a quiet chapel,
this was not a hidden flame,
this was faith with doors and windows,
this was mercy with a name.
This was bread lines, prayer lines,
sermons for the street,
this was radio and revival,
heaven finding city feet.
This was mothers, soldiers,
widows, workers, kings,
this was America listening
when a woman rose to sing.
Let them come from rented rooms,
let them come from mansion gates,
let them come from factory clocks,
let them come before it’s late.
Let them come with fevered children,
let them come with debts unpaid,
let them come with secret sorrows,
let them come and not be shamed.
Angelus Temple, ring your bells,
let the city hear the sound.
From the hills to the harbor,
let the mercy come down.
For the weary and the wounded,
for the lost who need a sign,
raise the roof with hallelujah,
throw the doors open wide.
Angelus Temple, lift your light,
let it burn above the plain.
Let the radio carry Jesus
through the sunshine and the rain.
For the mother, for the stranger,
for the sinner on the line,
raise the roof with hallelujah,
throw the doors open wide.
The morning rose on Los Angeles,
gold on the hills and the wires,
and a woman built a house of faith
where the city met the fire. -
7 The Radio Carried Jesus
Show Lyrics
She stood before a silver mouth,
beneath the temple lights,
while wires climbed the city roofs
and vanished into night.
No wagon wheels, no railroad smoke,
no tent stakes in the ground,
just one small voice before the air,
and heaven in the sound.
They could not see the faces
waiting far beyond the wall,
but faith had found a doorway
where no footstep had to fall.
The radio carried Jesus
over rooftops, fields, and rain.
Through the static and the distance,
mercy called them by their name.
To the kitchen and the sickbed,
to the worker all alone,
the radio carried Jesus
where the preacher could not go.
A mother turned the dial low
beside a sleeping child,
a farmer stopped his tired hands
and listened for a while.
A prisoner heard through iron bars,
a widow near the flame,
a young man on a rented cot
felt hope speak his name.
No balcony could hold it,
no city wall could stay,
when the gospel took to wing
and crossed the darkened way.
The radio carried Jesus
over rooftops, fields, and rain.
Through the static and the distance,
mercy called them by their name.
To the kitchen and the sickbed,
to the worker all alone,
the radio carried Jesus
where the preacher could not go.
Some said the air was empty,
some said it could not bear
a sermon, song, or altar call
upon the moving air.
But she had crossed rough oceans,
she had preached through dust and flame,
and if a wire could carry sound,
then sound could carry His name.
So she leaned into the microphone,
not for wonder, not for show,
but for every hidden aching heart
that had no church to go.
The radio carried Jesus
over rooftops, fields, and rain.
Through the static and the distance,
mercy called them by their name.
To the kitchen and the sickbed,
to the worker all alone,
the radio carried Jesus
where the preacher could not go.
Before the screen, before the satellite,
before the world grew small,
there was a woman at a microphone
who believed the Lord meant all.
Not just the ones beneath the roof,
not just the ones in sight,
but every soul beside a lamp
still listening in the night.
Turn the dial,
hear the hymn,
let the weary enter in.
Through the wire,
through the storm,
Christ is calling,
come be born.
The radio carried Jesus
over rooftops, fields, and rain.
Through the static and the distance,
mercy called them by their name.
To the kitchen and the sickbed,
to the worker all alone,
the radio carried Jesus
where the preacher could not go.
The radio carried Jesus
past the walls and past the crowd.
Past the ones who said a woman’s voice
should never sound so loud.
But the signal kept on rising,
and the mercy kept its glow,
the radio carried Jesus
where the preacher could not go.
She stood before a silver mouth,
and spoke into the night,
and somewhere past the city roofs,
a lonely room found light. -
8 The Lonely Road
Show Lyrics
When the lamps burned low,
And the crowd was gone,
I could hear my footsteps
In the empty hall.
There were flowers fading
By the altar rail,
And the city sleeping
Like it never saw.
They had touched my garment,
They had called my name,
They had brought their sorrows,
They had brought their shame.
I had prayed them through it,
I had watched them rise,
Then I closed the doorway
With the night inside.
No one came with me
When the lights went down.
No one held the silence
When the praise left town.
I gave them all my daylight,
I gave them all my flame,
But when the dark came calling,
Only Jesus knew my name.
I was still a daughter,
Still a woman’s heart,
Still a tired mother
Torn by worlds apart.
But they asked for courage,
So I stood again,
With my Bible open
And no hand in mine.
Trains across the midnight,
Rooms I did not know,
Faces at the platform,
Then another road.
Every city needed
Something I could give.
But who would ask the question,
“Sister, can you live?”
No one came with me
When the lights went down.
No one held the silence
When the praise left town.
I gave them all my daylight,
I gave them all my flame,
But when the dark came calling,
Only Jesus knew my name.
Not the stones they threw,
Not the lies they told,
Not the headlines laughing
In the morning cold.
It was after all the noise,
After every plea,
When the room went quiet,
That the burden fell on me.
Angelus was shining
Over streets of stone,
Radio towers standing
Like I was not alone.
But iron cannot answer,
And towers cannot weep,
And fame is just an echo
When a soul can’t sleep.
No one came with me
When the lights went down.
No one held the silence
When the praise left town.
I gave them all my daylight,
I gave them all my flame,
But when the dark came calling,
Only Jesus knew my name.
So remember me gently,
Not as rumor’s prize.
Remember I was human
Under heaven’s eyes.
I walked where He sent me,
Though the road was plain:
To carry all their sorrow,
And give Him all my pain. -
9 Count the Fruit
Show Lyrics
They counted every rumor
They counted every scar
They counted every headline
Like that proved who you are
But bring another ledger
Open up the other side
Count the ones who found the altar
Count the ones who left alive
Eight thousand came to Jesus
In the first half year alone
Fifteen hundred hit the water
Hundreds healed and going home
So before you call her fallen
Before you cast that stone
Ask the ones who met the Savior
What her labor made them know
Let the record rise like thunder
Let the old bells ring again
You can count up every slander
But you better count the saved
Count the fruit
Count the fire
Count the souls pulled from the wire
Count the hungry
Count the healed
Count the doors her hands unsealed
Count the prayers
Count the road
Count the mercy overflowed
When the lies run out of breath
Let the living answer death
She gave Jesus to the world
She gave Jesus to the world
She built a school beside the Temple
Raised up workers for the field
From a hundred hungry students
To a harvest unrevealed
Thousands trained to preach the gospel
Thousands sent to bear the flame
Men and women at the altar
All made servants in His name
Five sacred operas rising
Two hundred songs she wrote
Sermons, letters, calls to sinners
Still alive in every note
Not a theory
Not a slogan
Not a polished little show
But a Savior for the drowning
And a cross where shame could go
Let the record rise like thunder
Let the old bells ring again
You can count up every slander
But you better count the song
Count the fruit
Count the fire
Count the souls pulled from the wire
Count the hungry
Count the healed
Count the doors her hands unsealed
Count the prayers
Count the road
Count the mercy overflowed
When the lies run out of breath
Let the living answer death
She gave Jesus to the world
She gave Jesus to the world
She fed the poor in winter
When the breadlines wrapped the street
A million and a half found mercy
Clothes and blankets, food to eat
Doctors, nurses, soup and shelter
Children fed when hope ran thin
No one asked if they deserved it
Love just opened, “Come on in”
She raised the bonds for wartime
She prayed in public squares
One hundred fifty thousand
Given with a nation’s prayers
And while the papers sold suspicion
Her hands were working still
You can argue with a headline
But not with hungry mouths she filled
From one round church in Echo Park
The gospel crossed the sea
Sixty-eight thousand churches
Still preach what she believed
Across a hundred fifty nations
Millions call His name
From the pulpit to the airwaves
Still the fire and still the flame
She stood where women didn’t
She spoke where men said no
She faced the robes of hatred
And refused to bend or bow
She preached to rich and poor alike
Black and white came through the door
The sinner heard of Jesus
And the broken found the Lord
Count the fruit
Count the fire
Count the souls pulled from the wire
Count the hungry
Count the healed
Count the doors her hands unsealed
Count the students
Count the songs
Count the road she traveled long
Count the broadcasts
Count the prayers
Count the cross she lifted there
Count the churches
Count the lands
Count the mercy in her hands
When the lies run out of breath
Let the living answer death
She gave Jesus to the world
She gave Jesus to the world
She gave Jesus to the world
And the fruit still speaks her name
How will you remember her?
Count the fruit
How will you remember her?
Count the fruit
When the lies have turned to dust
And the stones fall from their hands
The fruit still speaks
The fire still stands
*All songs, lyrics, and music are copyright SisterAimee.org.