There was a little pale building
'twas a Church that had no bell ring
But there was always sweet singing
Bringing loud praises to the King
Not much money or coins to spare
Nor riches, assets to declare
But love and kindness ever there
Good food and fellowship to share
......
Wander through the burrowed light,
mud-packed walls breathing warmth,
a kettle thrums—no rush, just the steady,
unbroken rhythm of being.
Hands work the earth, kneading sun into soil,
tucking seeds deep where roots raise memory.
Footsteps soften against moss,
small strides, sure and deliberate,
......
Wander through the burrowed light,
mud-packed walls breathing warmth,
a kettle thrums—no rush, just the steady,
unbroken rhythm of being.
Hands work the earth, kneading sun into soil,
tucking seeds deep where roots raise memory.
Footsteps soften against moss,
small strides, sure and deliberate,
......
There was a little pale building
'twas a Church that had no bell ring
But there was always sweet singing
Bringing loud praises to the King
Not much money or coins to spare
Nor riches, assets to declare
But love and kindness ever there
Good food and fellowship to share
......