I close my eyes and think about

A building small and neat

Pristine in it's appearance

Where family and friends would meet.

God's presence seemed to be everywhere

Though the structure was very small

A voice seemed to whisper

Come to church one and all.

The pastor preached fire and brimstone

Words from the good book all would hear

But we understood the sermon

As many would leave in fear.

Wondering about the future

Asking for help along the way

Lifting our eyes to heaven

Praying to make it a better day.

I can hear the church bell ringing

A small choir's voices loud and clear

The congregation close in fellowship

As it grew year after year.

Then one day I realized

My church had changed so much

The building was big and fancy

And had lost that special touch.

Everything was a vision of beauty

A lovely site to behold

But I missed my little country church

That now stood so huge and bold.

As the years went swiftly by

My church just grew and grew

Yet I miss that little country church

The close fellowship back then too.

The congregation made up of strangers

The words preached different somehow

No longer fire and brimstone

More like a theater with actors now.

Yes I miss my little church

And the fun of my youth spent there

The love of Christ that was taught then

In some churches today is rare.

So if your church is small or large

One thing we know is true

It's God's house no matter what

And the place for me and you.

Ginny Bryant©

Ginny's Gift Of Love

NOTE: Ginny's poetry and verse is Copyright through
the Library Of Congress and cannot be copied
or used by whole or part in any way without her
written permission....