The Church On the Hill
There is a church upon a hill
Who put it
there no-one can tell.
The earliest that I can date
Was in the year
1838.
With a population so very small
I wondered it was there at
all.
Then forests covered most of the land
And
everything was done by hand.
They made homes from wood they’d
hew,
Killed wild deer and boar for stew.
While mushroom, berries and
things of that kind
Were picked by children from what they could
find.
Roads cut through where trees once
stood.
That brought more people to cut the wood.
They built their homes
without much strife
And settled down to village life.
They ploughed the
land and reaped each year
And sold their produce at the village
fair.
The years fled by and still the world
turned
But people got greedy about what they earned.
Many left the
villages for a better living
In town to trade without any misgiving.
But
what of the others they left behind?
They just got on with the daily
grind.
Now the millennium is coming with plenty of
fuss
We pray that God will be there with us
To give us his help with
whatever it brings
With computer and e-mail and other such things.
Ruby Bullock