The Model Church
Well, wife, I’ve found the model church – I
worshipped there today!
It made me think of good old times, before
my hair was gray.
The meetin’-house was fixed up more, than
they were years ago,
But then I felt when I went in, it wasn’t built for
The sexton didn’t seat me away back by the door;
He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as old and
He must have been a Christian, for he led me through
the long aisle of that crowded church, to find a place
I wish you’d heard that singin’ – it had the old-time
The preacher said, with trumpet voice, “Let all the
The tune was Coronation, and the music upward
Till I thought I heard the angels all striking their
harps of gold.
My deafness seemed to melt away; my spirit caught
I joined my feeble, trembling voice, with that melo-
And sang as in my youthful days, “Let angels pros-
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord
I tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once
I felt like some wrecked mariner who gets a glimpse
I almost wanted to lay down this weather beaten
And anchor in the blessed port forever from the storm.
The preachin’? Well, I can’t just tell all the
I know it wasn’t written; I know it wasn’t read;
He hadn’t time to read it, for the lightnin’ of his eye
went flashin’ along from pew to pew, not passed a
The sermon wasn’t flowery, ‘twas simple gospel truth;
It fitted poor old men like me, it fitted hopeful youth.
“Twas full of consolation for weary hearts that bleed;
‘Twas full of invitations to Christ, and not to creed.
The preacher made sin hideous in Gentiles and in
He shot the golden sentences down in the finest pews,
And – though I can’t see very well – I saw the falling
That told me hell was some ways off, and heaven very
How swift the golden moments fled within that holy
How brightly beamed the light of heaven from every
Again I longed for that sweet time when friend shall
meet with friend,
“Where congregations ne’er break up, and Sabbaths
have no end.”
I hope to meet that minister – that congregation, too –
In that dear home beyond the stars that shine from
I doubt not I’ll remember, beyond life’s evening
That happy hour of worship in that model church to-
Dear wife, the fight will soon be fought, the victory
The shining goal is just ahead, the race is nearly run.
O’er the river we are nearin’, they are throngin’ to the
To shout our safe arrival when the weary weep no
more. John H. Yates