I stood in an old country church today the one I knew as a lad,
and it brought old memories flooding back
----some fond, some sweet and some sad.

We were baptized and confirmed in that little old church
The one I stood in today.
But it no longer serves as a church, you know---
It’s now filled with grain and with hay.

The inside looked much the same today,
And I paused where the old altar stood.
And I gazed around with tear-dimmed eyes
At the beautiful polished old wood.

The memories came back like a great surging tide
As I stood in that old church today,
Of all the people that used to be there,
Where now there is grain and there’s hay.

Of Christmas and New Year’s, of Easter and Lent
And of how the people would sing.
And how when ‘twas 6:00 on Saturday night,
For miles you could here her bell ring.

Of bittersweet memories of all that we felt,
of happiness, joy and of grief,
Of how we were taught that life’s span is short,
Like a flower, moth or a leaf.

I closed my eyes and could still see my folks
sitting there in their own special pew.
Old uncles and aunts, neighbors and friends,
and old “By George Bill,” to name just a few.

Her life span was short, this little old church,
as the life spans of some churches go,
For she served as a church in that little old town
of Ludell, Kansas a mere sixty years or so.