The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1871-06-30
OUR CHURCH AND 1TsA1Ha1arRs

OUR CHURCH AND ITsNEARBERs.
Our church is no stone palace,
with its spires pointing towards
heaven; nor has it stained windows
through which the light struggles
feehly on gold-clasped prayer books
damask cushions and velvet car
pets. No qua1fette of hired singers,
accompanied by an organ casting
three thousand look down with scorn
at those who have the audacity to
to open their plebian mouths to sing
praises. The lordly millionaire does
not occupy the best seat, because he
can pay gold for it; nor does the
humble laborer pause at the thresh-
old, abashed of tossing plumes, vel
vet clOaks, which vie with rainbow
for cOlors; nor have we sexton who
cody surveys the stranger and then
seats him according to the cut Of his
coat; and lastly our minister is not
a handsome man noted for his wit
and eloquence, and whose wife and
children are CONSPICUOUS for their ell
egant appeared, and for the houghtv
air which they bestoW on the common
herd. Oh, no, It is an humble little
edifce painted white, with straight
high backed seats, occupied by straw
bonnets, and calico dresses.
Our choir,-shall I describe it?
The minister gives out a hymn in
long metre, commencing with "HaFkl
from the tombs a doleful sound"
Up hops little Bessie Mills, who, on
a visit to her city relations, learned
to play Old-Hundred and Haddam,
{ (which has been in constant demand
ever since, land seats herself at the
little three octave melodion,-a pres
ent from the Ladies sewing SOeie-
ty." Up rises Deacon Crosby-no-
ted for his loud singing, and for the
precision with which he beats time
which is a signal for the rest to do
the same. Careful mothers place
their children on the seats, much TO
the youngsters edifcation, at finding
that they are now almost as taJf as
father. The minister leaves the
pulpit to band his hymn book to
widow Jones who, in her hurry for
got hers. Deacon Crosby starts off
on Do, me, sol, quite ignorant that
the melodeon is for that purpose,
"Bless you heartsi' has he not taken
the lead of Singing School," and
sour Choir for over tt0enty gears,
no one disputes his ability. Now
they join with one accord in the
singing. And such music. What if
Bessie Mills. in her bashfulness
does make mistakes, and loses
ground? What if the widow Jones
IS one key higher than the rest, and
sends forth music loud and shrillp
What if the old maid in the corner
tries to drown her rivals voice, in
notes still shriller? While Deacon
Crosby, unmindful that there is a dis
cord looks back to see if the sisters
are doing their duty. Is not that
music as acceptable as the absorbing
strains Of many fashionable as
sembly? More so. The sweetest
music earth can afford, will not COM
pare with the lays of heaven and no
offering but from the heart alone
will be accepted. Now they kneeL
Gray hairs. manhoods prime, the
bloom of youth bow the head, and
bend the knee, and the sweet voice
of the Pastor breaks upon the still
ness. 1t is no Pharisee's prayer,
"Lord we are thankful that we are
not as other men nor is the news Of
the week told with equal pomposity.
But it is an humble request for pro
lection and care, and a heartfelt
desire to be found ever at the foot
of the cross. American patriotism
is breathed forth in "God preserve
our country and the prayer is en-
ded. As the minister gives out the
hymn, beautiful dove settles upon
the window seat, and emboldened
by the stiffness coves. and trims it's
feathers with perfect cOntentment.
Don't look so cross at the interup-
tion. Was it not a doge that
brought back tidings ofa land ofrest
to the weary inmates of the ark2
and dove that settled upon the
Sayiors brow, as he came out of the
water? But Deacon Crosby is des-
cended directly from the Puritans,
and he cuffs his youngest son JEFF,
who looks at the bird instead of the
pulpit. Widow Jones follows his
example on her daughter Sophrona,
for is not the Deacon a model man
in her eyes2 Not because he is a
widower, Oh, no! The old maid in
the corner purses up her thin lips,
and looks sourer than ever at such
a shame-faced maneauver as she
terms il. Don't blame her for has
she not looked with fond eyes at the
Deacon's home, ever since he laid
the dear departed in her last resting
place.
The sermon is an exortation to
love one another; do good; feed the
hungry; cloth the necked. Another
hymn, with the doxology, is sung,
and the congregation is dispersed,
some to their homes, if they are
near, and others, who live a long
way from the place of meeting, draw
out from some unseen reeepticle a
little brown paper, in which is wrap
ped piece of ginger bread which is
divided among the family. A few
lads and lasses betake themselves to
the front oS the door drawn, probab-
ly, by a mutual attraction, to chat
little; but soon is heard suppressed
laughter, and the Deacon rises,
walks stihy out, and after giving
them lecture on their worldllness,
ends with the fact that it is astonish-
ING how baptized children should
dare to laugh out loud on the Sab
bath day, and goes back and re-
marks to the widow Jones "that the
flesh is indeed earnal," which she
responded to with sigh Of afarma-
ton.
Time has wrought many changes
in Our Church. The humble edi-
fee has given place to one Of more