Where Jesus Is

This mornin the pews were hay bales
 the pulpit a saddle thrown over a stall
 the floor just a carpet of sawdust
 the babtistry just a rusty ol' traun
 there were no stepals
 there were no hymnals
 but heaven came down
 there were no suits
 just worn out boots
 standin on holy ground
 i guess its true if even two
 are gathered in his hands
 thats where Jesus is
 somewhere they were gathered and prayin
 their alter a footlocker thrown in the sand
 sundays at home just a memory
 but there in that tent they still felt his hand
 there were no stepals
 there were no hymnals
 but heaven came down
 there were no suits
 just worn out boots
 standin on holy ground
 i guess its true if even two
 are gathered in his hands
 thats where Jesus is
 on an airplane or this old bus
 in a silence he always meets us
 where there's stepels
 where there's no hymnals
 heaven comes down
 in our sunday shoes
 or in our cowboy boots
 it is all holy ground
 i guess its true if even two
 are gathered in his hands
 thats where Jesus is
 This is where Jesus is