The Preacher’s Wife
You may think it quite an easy task
And just a pleasant life;
But really it takes a lot of grace
To be a preacher’s wife.
She’s supposed to be a paragon
Without a fault in view,
A saint when in the parsonage
As well as in the pew.
Her home must be a small hotel
For folks that chance to roam,
And yet have peace and harmony,
A pleasant home sweet home.
Whenever groups are called to meet,
Her presence must be there;
And yet the members all agree
She should live a life of prayer.
Though hearing people’s troubles and trials,
Their grief both night and day,
She’s supposed to spread but sunshine bright
To those along the way.
She must lend a sympathetic ear
To every tale of woe,
And then forget about it all,
Lest it to others go.
Her children must be models rare
Of quietness and poise,
But still stay on the same level
With other girls and boys.
You may think it quite an easy task
And just a pleasant life,
But really it takes a lot of grace
To be a preacher’s wife.