Make it Yesterday
There’s a place I know called Blessing House where children come and go.
They leave their handprints on the walls, teardrops on the pillows.
They come for many different reasons, they don’t come to stay.
They’re just here to find God’s hand and have Him chase the bad away.
They say,
Hide me, hold me, tell me I’m OK. Put this bad dream in a box, send it on its way.
Please make it yesterday.
This house was build with hope and love, good people near and far.
You can call them saints or angels, God’s hands are what they are.
When children can’t stay in their home; an awful thing, but true;
Their tiny hearts are full of fear, their lips are trembling, too.
They say,
Hide me, hold me, tell me I’m OK. Put this bad dream in a box, send it on its way.
Please make it yesterday.
They’ll laugh and play inside the walls that angels built for them.
When it’s time for them to go, it may not be the end.
Maybe memories of a place where smiles were all around
Will plant a seed of hope inside, pick them up if they fall down.
They say,
Hide me, hold me, tell me I’m OK. Put this bad dream in a box, send it on its way.
Please make it yesterday.
Make it yesterday.