Lydia, the Textile Lady
Listen to the song:
Sung by: Trey Hatch
Piano: LeAnn Fry
Orchestration: Lance Gibbon
Lyrics: Bruce Wersen
Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, that linen-rich Lydia,
Lydia the textile lady!

She dyed wool and found her niche here,
Then she found Jesus and she’s far richer.

Lydia, oh Lydia, that purple-cloth Lydia,
Lydia the dealer of dye!

Though her sales were lively in lavender fur,
She was dying inside, stained in sin as it were,
So she died in Christ and now Christ lives in her,
We should learn to die like Lydia!

I said Lydia           [He said Lydia]
I said Lydia           [He said Lydia]

Come along and meet the Philippian jailer,
Shackled in a self-imposed prison of failure,
He restrained us and put away the key,
God released us and set the jailer free.

La-la-la … la-la-la
La-la-la … la-la-la

This is my assistant Epaphroditus,
Always falling ill with things like meningitis,
And though he said his goodbyes on a death bed,
He only died to his sin like Lydia did.

La-la-la … la-la-la
La-la-la … la-la-la

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, indelible Lydia,
Lydia’s solution is “die”!

Every day she kneels down on a mauve camel skin,
And prays hard for this guard who is roamin’ in sin,
That he’ll unchain his heart now that I’m chained to him,
Till he’s wise and dies like Lydia!

I said Lydia           [He said Lydia]
I said Lydia           [He said Lydia]

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, she’ll bless every bit-a-ya,
She’s the disciple of “die”!

She’ll rinse and she’ll launder those mired in mud,
‘Till they’re drenched in a violet and amethyst flood,
Because purple’s the proof that our blues met His blood,

When we die to live …
And we try to forgive …
And we live to die like Lydia!