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—
The perfect preacher's 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 burdens,
Their griefs both night and day,
She ought to spread but sunshine
To those along the way.

She must lend a sympathetic ear
To every tale of woe,
Then forget about it
Lest it to others go.

Her children must be models rare
Of quietness and poise,
And still stay on the level
With the 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.
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