On a recent stay last Sunday at a place called "Maple Hill,"
I looked around and sadly found a church I yearn for still.
I came to see what used to be the dearest spot on earth,
where Mom and Dad brought me along to enjoy all it's worth.
Now, it's mostly leaning, but all it's meaning comes back in memories joy,
I found myself in thoughts daydreaming of then when just a boy!
There lay the steeple where all the people
once loved those chime bells ringing,
for they would come each Sunday sequel, and join in hymnbook singing.
That little church, to see it hurts, is now an old landmark;
out back I found in lonely search the graveyard, old and stark!
And through this church grows one white birch, a measure of time long gone.
Among those limbs birds come to perch when summer days are done.
The church was bright when painted white, has withered old and gray.
Through wear and tear the roof shows light from skies of night and day.
The old walls stand in crooked spans, and amid the rubble there;
are wild oak vines seen all around that climbs through everywhere.
And as I see that spot I'm fond, my memories go inside,
where all would meet in solid bond, to pray, to cry, and abide.
And people there were kind and fair and hugged upon their greeting.
They washed each others feet with care at each third Sunday's meeting.
And when we went to church and spent, almost an entire day;
five preacher to the pulpit went - gave sermons their own way.
They all spoke long 'bout the Bible strong and some folks rose in shame,
confessing sins and all their wrongs to answer in God's name!
There came a time a heart did shine, and one man heard his call,
when ask to come and with God bind, he commenced to cry and bawl!
He left his seat still trembling yet, and stumbled to the pulpit stand,
and with the preacher's hug they met - took a burden from this man.
I was told he came in cold and knew no Bible verse,
but after "born again" - behold! Preached hell from the devil's curse.
And many a' day he preached away and not once did he look:
where the Bible lay on the shelf at bay, but his words came from that book.
Now I defy any normal guy to explain that mystery;
how that man could preach on high without prior knowledge be.
And I recall my Mother's shawl, a Christmas gift from me,
and I could see tear drops fall when she tenderly smiled at me.
And I remember Dad so limber when called upon in leading -
the congregation and each member in song and Bible reading.
And they sang out in glorious shout, they hugged, they sighed and cried.
We loved this church with hearts so stout, fulfillment was supplied.
this church was small but pleased us all, it's memory will stay forever -
in minds of those who can recall, of God's once great endeavor.
William E. Hardison
(Copyrights recorded)
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