It stood near the end of a country lane,
It had been there a good hundred years;
It stood in tribute to both joy and pain,
Well washed in those two kinds of tears.
When first it was built and God-sanctified,
It was filled with His love and His grace;
And over the years, God was so satisfied,
It became a most highly blest place.
It had not been in use for a very long time,
And around it, new buildings had sprung;
It now served as a target for mischief and crime,
And was defiled by the thoughtless and young.
The billboard went up on a Saturday night, "THIS LITTLE CHURCH IS FOR SALE."
That's when church socials used to regale;
The sign was so big it near covered the site,
Strangely enough, a buyer came the next day,
Someone whose name was not known;
A crew of workers also showed up right away,
And soon work on the church was full-blown.
The foundation was loosed; the little church sagged,
The floors creaked; the walls pitifully moaned;
In the wind, the old steeple wiggled and wagged,
And the doors and the windows all groaned.
Activity bustled several days in a row,
'Til one night, when it reached a high peak;
It thundered that night, with lightening aglow,
And rain poured, while winds wildly shrieked.
The next morning, so still and fresh from the rain, "IT'S BEEN SOLD!"
Was a glorious day to behold;
At the site of the church, no building remained,
And the billboard was marked,
In its place stood a tree of marvelous size,
Resplendent from our Father's works;
And up in the sky, floating on high,
Were white clouds in the shape of a church.