It was a quiet Sunday morning, I was not the least bit lost;
But I heard some children singing, that had warmed the morning frost.
I was just around the corner, just behind some oak and birch,
When I heard those children sing out from that little country Church.
It stood between the grocers, and a little barbershop;
As its steeple rose above it all, ascending there on top.
Its cross was seen for miles, from around the countryside,
And the evidence of its power was witnessed there inside.
All the children's voices rang - with sincere, persistent calls,
As they carried through the valley - from behind those painted walls,
As I came a little closer, I could see above the dew,
Some pedestrians had stopped, as they listened to them too.
I had thought that I was busy. My schedule was quite full;
But I didn't dare to walk on by, as I sensed a tender pull.
I heard the soft, sweet whisper when the bells began to ring.
Right there inside those cedar doors, I found the Lord, my King.
©2006 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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