The Old Church

Behind our new church, on the hill,
The old church used to stand,
As grim and rough as an old-time saint,
Stained by age, but never by paint,
With a willow on either hand.

A traveler, passing by that way,
As he looked the edifice o'er,
With a sense not quite so devout as keen,
Is said to have murmured, "God's house I've seen,
But never His barn before!"

~ William Byron Forbush