Dedicated to my dad, who was a coal miner in the 1920's and 1930's in east Tennessee. I admire him so very much. He passed away 28 years ago, and even today I think about him every day... regretting that I never told him how much he meant to me. I hope that he looks down at me now, and knows. This is in remembrance of him and every man and woman who has ever entered the mines. I love you, dad. COAL MINER'S PRAYER By Margie McAlaster Take a look at these hands, Lord, they're worn and rough. My face scarred with coal marks, my language is tough. But you know in the heart, Lord, Lies the soul of a man Who toils at a living that few men can stand There's sulphur and coal dust and sweat on my brow. To live like a rich man, I'd never learn how. But if you've got a corner when my work is through, I'd be mighty proud to live neighbors with you. Each dawn as I rise, Lord, I know all to well I face only one thing: A pit filled with hell. To scratch out a living the best that I can. But deep in this heart lies the soul of a man. With black covered faces and hard calloused hands, We ride the dark tunnels, our work to begin. To labor and toil as we harvest the coal We silently pray, Lord, please harvest our souls Just a corner in Heaven when I've grown too old And my back it won't bend, Lord, to shovel the coal. Lift me out of the pit, Lord, where the sun never shines, 'Cause it gets mighty weary down there in the mine. But I'd rather be me, Lord, though no riches I show, Though tired and weary, I'm just glad to know When the Great Seal is broken the pages will tell That I've already spent my time in hell