by Jason Kirk Bartley

There was a little white church
with a steeple on the hill.    
Whenever they had a service,
God's Spirit you could feel.
The preacher was fiery and the
people were real,
down to earth country folk who
we’re rowdy and God-led.
They were knowledgeable in Christ
and biblically fed.
Hooping and a hollering,
was still in popular demand.
They knew what it was like to take
hold of our Savior's hand.
They wouldn't let go,
as the altars were lined,
with praying folk that had a lot on
their mind.
Praying to Jesus, was a common
thing here.
They'd raise both hands to victory
as Jesus drew near.
Now this little white church is a
thing of the past.
Life is temporal, people change,
things seldom last.
She now stands empty at the top
of the old hill.
A memoir to people who knew
God would heal.
They closed her down,
But the Holy Spirit still dwells
within,
the hearts of the people who had
dealt with their sin.
They boarded it up,
but Jesus would still come inside,
anyone who called upon Him,
He would reside.
The church, just a building,
we are His sheep,
He tends with His loving care and
surely doth keep.
We are the church,
blessed in His plan.
The church is within us in the heart
of man. 

Jason Kirk Bartley is a Christian poet. He is from Chillicothe, Ohio. He is 47 years old and married to Nila, his forever love. He has a Master’s degree in Ministry from Ohio Christian University.