I wish that
all the world could know
The small town's
"country church".
It's so much like the days
of old,
Beside the spreading
birch.
The broken hearts, that come
there,
Receive an open arm
And we all know
that every child
Is safe from any
harm.
We do not teach the power
plays
And, as the children grow,
They see
the older kids help out;
With a sweetness we
all know.
The pattern passes through the
years
And excellence appears;
A tiny
church with simple folk
And children that
revere.
Sometimes, we eat
together.
Sometimes, we sing a
song.
Sometimes, we hold each other,
When
someone loved is gone.
The greatest joy
when 'someone new'
Lines up to live for
Him
And a newborn soul, like any babe,
Is
joy to all within.
I
look around to see the change
Where great
grandfather came.
He hitched his team outside
the door.
He sang the songs the
same.
And I recall each place where
sat
The folks who mentored me.
I think of
families moved on
And know that had to
be.
But still, it thrives, the little
church
Where people love the Lord
And know
that God's love in your heart.
Is not a thing
to hoard!
© 2005 by Joan Clifton
Costner
Under His
Wings Heavenly Poetry
Joan is a Heavenly
Inspirations
Author.
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