Country Church

Down a dirt road where the wildflowers grow,

Stands a steeple reaching high and low.

The wooden pews, worn smooth with time,

Hold the whispers of a faith divine.

Oh, the country church, where the light shines through,

Stained glass stories in a rainbow hue.

With every hymn, my soul takes flight,

In that country church on a Sunday night.

The preacher’s voice, it rolls like the hills,

Speaking of grace and the good Lord's will.

The choir sings with hearts open wide,

Their voices echo through the countryside.

Oh, the country church, where the light shines through,

Stained glass stories in a rainbow hue.

With every hymn, my soul takes flight,

In that country church on a Sunday night.

The bell rings out, calling us home,

Through fields of corn and the setting sun’s glow.

It’s more than a building, it’s a part of me,

A place where the spirit runs wild and free.

Oh, the country church, where the light shines through,

Stained glass stories in a rainbow hue.

With every hymn, my soul takes flight,

In that country church on a Sunday night.