Country church

By William B. JohnsonSherman, Texas
The countryside was lush and green,But what I saw was a very sad scene.A little country church stood all alone, A relic of happy times long gone.
It was only a little wood frame building With no fancy trim or ornate gilding.There was such disrepair I could see right through The sides of the building and the belfry, too.
The boards were black and falling apart. Seeing such a sight really tore my heart.I thought of the people who once worshiped there;They came from all directions to gather for prayer.
The bell called all who heard to come and bringHumble hearts and happy voices to join and singPraises to God, our Savior and our Lord, And to offer petitions to the One Whom they adored.
There were happy times within that setting,Baptisms, confirmations and beautiful weddings.There surely were times of sadness, too,For loved ones who passed on to life anew.
Sermons were preached from God’s Holy Word.Hearts and lives were changed by what was heard.Now, the church has nobody in it.If I had the money, I’d buy it in a minute.
I’d shore up those walls about to fall in.I’d replace that bell so it could call inThe people nearby who all need to hearThe Word of God preached throughout the year.
It has served God’s purpose; now perhaps it’s bestTo let time take its toll, and let it come to restOn Christ’s promise: “My church always will be,Not only in a building, but in fellowship with Me.”