paidforinfull
Oct 1st 2008, 02:46 AM
The Old Mission Church
by Belinda van Rensburg
The air is hot and humid as we sit in the church pew,
the building's very old and nothing in it's new.
The walls are cracking; the alter cloth is stained,
and I'm sure that we'd get drenched if it should rain.
The roof is leaking but the preacher keeps on preaching;
A tired fan is squeaking and the rusty door is creaking.
The paint is peeling but the people are all kneeling;
pouring out their hearts to God with honesty and feeling.
I don't know the lingo but my spirit can discern,
that the congregation's here to worship and to learn.
Oh! How fortunate I feel as in this place I kneel,
for upon this mission church is God's approving seal.
by Belinda van Rensburg
The air is hot and humid as we sit in the church pew,
the building's very old and nothing in it's new.
The walls are cracking; the alter cloth is stained,
and I'm sure that we'd get drenched if it should rain.
The roof is leaking but the preacher keeps on preaching;
A tired fan is squeaking and the rusty door is creaking.
The paint is peeling but the people are all kneeling;
pouring out their hearts to God with honesty and feeling.
I don't know the lingo but my spirit can discern,
that the congregation's here to worship and to learn.
Oh! How fortunate I feel as in this place I kneel,
for upon this mission church is God's approving seal.