On 19th and Main
 His grip on the gospel
 His one claim to fame
 He hurls fire and brimstone
 At the cars passing by
 And he offers salvation
 For the savior on high
 His khakis are tattered
 And he ain't bathed in weeks
 His bout with the bottle
 Shows up on his cheeks
 He looks like a scarecrow
 A sight to behold
 As he works for the shepherd
 Bringin' lambs to the fold
 He points to the Bible
 He holds in his hands
 Says I'm proof that the good Lord
 Can save any man
 Son, it ain't what you're driving
 Or the clothes that you wear
 Material possessions
 Won't matter up there
 And someday in heaven
 When the angels all sing
 These rags that I'm wearin'
 Will be fit for a king
 He's fighting a fever
 In spite of the chill
 He pull up his collar
 And he speaks of God's will
 His body is weakened
 But his faith is still strong
 For he's filled with conviction
 For the mission he's on
 He knows soon in heaven
 He'll be homeless no more
 As his work will soon echo
 From that far distant shore
 Son, it ain't what you're driving
 Or the clothes that you wear
 Material possessions
 Won't matter up there
 And someday in heaven
 When the angels all sing
 These rags that I'm wearin'
 Will be fit for a king
 And someday in heaven
 When the angels all sing
 These rags that I'm wearin'
 Will be fit for a king