The Model Church

Well

wife

I’ve found the mo­del church

And wor­shiped there to­day;

It made me think of good old times

Before my hair was gray;

The meet­ing house was fin­er built

Than they were years ago

But then I found when I went in

It was not built for show.

The sex­ton did not set me down

Away back by the door;

He knew that I was old and deaf

And saw that I was poor;

He must have been a Christ­ian man

He led me bold­ly through

The crowd­ed aisle of that grand church

To find a plea­sant pew.

I wish you’d heard the sing­ing

wife

It had the old-time ring;

The preach­er said with trum­pet voice

Let all the people sing:

Old Co­ro­na­tion was the tune;

The music up­ward rolled

Until I thought the an­gel choir

Struck all their harps of gold.

My deaf­ness seemed to melt away

My spir­it caught the fire;

I joined my fee­ble

trem­bling voice

With that me­lo­di­ous choir;

And sang as in my youth­ful days

Let angels pros­trate fall.

Bring forth the roy­al di­adem

And crown Him Lord of all.

I tell you

wife

it did me good

To sing that hymn once more;

I felt like some wrecked ma­rin­er

Who gets a glimpse of shore;

I al­most want to lay aside

This wea­ther beat­en form

And an­chor in the bless­èd port

Forever from the storm.

’Twas not a flo­we­ry ser­mon

wife

But sim­ple gos­pel truth;

It fit­ted hum­ble men like me;

It suit­ed hope­ful youth;

To win im­mor­tal souls to Christ

The ear­nest preach­er tried;

He talked not of himself

or creed

But Je­sus cru­ci­fied.

Dear wife

the toil will soon be o’er

The vict’ry soon be won;

The shin­ing land is just ahead

Our race is near­ly run;

We’re near­ing Ca­naan’s hap­py shore

Our home so bright and fair;

Thank God

we’ll nev­er sin again

There’ll be no sor­row there.