This poem is inspired by an old country church I saw while in South Dakota. I had actually started the poem prior to the vacation but it was unfinished and I needed some inspiration. It had been my hope that I would find such a church and God provided in a site called 1880 town. It speaks of how Christians who have come before us have carried the message for us.

The Church on the Prairie

Through tall brown grass, waist high tall,
I walk to a church with ancient walls.
Old white paint, cracked, peeling off,
Expose pine wood turned grey and soft.
Sagging wooden stairs lead up to open doors,
Warped, twisted, and dragging the floor.
They whisper, “Come with me to another age,
When the Spirit moved in a different way,
When the music sounded old and strange
And the sermons spoke seemed plain.

I stood on the steps, fingers touching the rail,
Feeling the grooved wear from all of the years.
I peered through the doors at a room full of shadows;
Where the dust of the years, the coating of time,
Lay upon the furniture scattered about.
A piano with dead keys, stood in the corner,
The echo of the old hymns hung in the air.
As I stood in the entrance, I sensed in my heart
The Spirit was there amid the shadow and light.

Slowly I stepped through the doors,
My footsteps sounding off the empty walls,
Ahead was the pulpit, still standing tall;
And in the silence, I could hear it talk
Of the many sermons spoke to the flock.
I closed my eyes and in my mind could see
The church in times past
With the faithful in the pews
In Sunday best and overalls.

I stood there a moment and then slowly smiled
Feeling Holy Spirit move inside,
Then once again I opened my eyes,
To a room filled by the ghosts of yesteryear,
Those who by their faithfulness
Had carried the message to another age,
The message that had called to me
The day when I was saved.