The Little White Church



There’s a little, white church that stands on a hill,

In memories of yesterdays, I see it still.

I hear all the old hymns we used to sing

And echoing through time, the bell still rings.





I see family and friends all gathered there

With heads humbly bowed in fervent prayer.

I see the preacher, as before the altar he stands

Holding God’s book, reverently, in his hands.





"Just As I Am", came the altar call

On the day I bent down and gave Jesus my all.

Now sixty years have come and past

Since I entered through those doors last.





Gone are the voices that used to sing

And gone is the bell that used to ring,

But the little, white church still stands on the hill

And etched within my memory, it always will.



©2002 Lora Cox
http://www.loratrue2000.com/
This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits intact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.



And as they went through the cities, they delivered them the decrees for to keep, that were ordained of the apostles and elders which were at Jerusalem. And so were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily. Now when they had gone throughout Phrygia and the region of Galatia, and were forbidden of the Holy Ghost to preach the word in Asia,
( Acts 16:4-6 )(KJV)


The memories of our younger years in Church will last forever more in our hearts and minds.




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