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Posts Tagged ‘Pastor’

My Favorite Church

THE LITTLE COUNTRY CHURCH

 

There used to be a bell that rang,                               

And doors that opened wide,                             

With young and old parishioners

Filling the pews inside.

 

Nestled among the hills and ponds,

Is a church of aging wood,

It echoes the glory and worship,

Of the Christian brotherhood.

 

There’s a pulpit where the Pastor stood,

While leading all in prayer.

An old pump organ that played Hymns,

And song books showing wear.                                                          

 

Out on the east side of the Church,

Fenced-in hallowed ground

Holds crumbling markers for the dead,

Where family names are found.

 

The doors can still be opened,

So you can walk right in,

To stand quietly with due respect,

So the echoes will begin.. 

 

You may even hear the organ,.

And voices singing praise.

Or pealing of the old Church bell

As it rang in by-gone days.

 

I miss that little Country Church..

It saddens me to see

Its rusted bell and the closed doors . . .

And know its destiny.

 

         

9/10/04    Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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  COTTONWOOD CHRISTIAN

              CHURCH

 

 

Around the bend, there is a church

With doors that open wide,

Where young and old parishioners

Fill the pews inside.

 

Nestled among hills and ponds,

It’s christened Cottonwood.                     

It rings with glory and worship,

And defines the neighborhood.

 

The people in attendance there

Are the best that one can find.

“Just plain folks”, some would say.

Is there any better kind?

                                                                           

Blossoms in the woods out back,

Tall corn across the road.

A tiny curving brook, in spring,      

Near Pastor’s white abode.

 

There’s laughter in that little church,

And I think it makes God smile . . .

For it fits so well with the serious side,

And that’s Cottonwood’s style 

                                                                                                        

Walk through those doors on Sunday morn’,

You’ll love what you behold.

The messages uplift your soul,

As you’re welcomed in it’s fold.

 

I’ll look for you, each time I’m there,

No need for in-depth search,

Since you’ll be drawn to worship at . . .

The Cottonwood Christian Church.

 

                              

    Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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