Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1879-02-13
The Modern Meetin' House.
ny Will s. HAYS

man on tho hill,
An Hiram's gono to git his grist at Jason
Turner's mill.
was in town las Sunday, au' my heart an'
mo agreed
To go to mnetin'--of you'll witt I'll tell
you what soed
The bells wcro tollin' lively on the balmy
mornin' air,
An folks were ia hurry, like the rushn'
to fair.
The mcetiu' house wor built Of stone, tho
l' stoeplo p'ihted high,
Tho wiuders they wor painted all the coors
rys oy the sky;
An rannin' up tho steeplo was great long
w. lightnin' rod
kinder thought tho members lacked
confidence in God.
The big bell sortcr hushcd hitself an thon
hit ruug somo more,
An people cum 10 carriages and got out at
the door;
The wimmon fixod thar dresses like they
meant to mako call,
Thar faces showed they wara't a thinkin
ov Their souls at all.
Wall, Davy thar stood an thought-'twas
wicked l suppose
Some 90 to church to close thar eyes, an
some to eye thar clothes;
I overheard old Missus Swell to Missus
Stebbns say,
"My darter Becky's dress warn't done
she won't be here to day"
Istood thar hcsitatn' like what sort ov
movo to make,
thought that should 60 inside for my
salvation's sake,
started mcekly in the house, knew it
warp't no harm,
With my old broad brim hat iu han an
jeans coat on my arm.
went along bout half way up tho velvet
carpet lo,
The men an wimmin shut thar gates, and
they began to smile;
l sepd one open just bit, went in and
pulled it TO-,
When Brown, the banker riz an said, "this
'ero's rented pew"
got out ov his "rcntcd pow" an sot down
near tho door,
Expectin' for sum mon to say, "this 'ore's
rented fooi,"
A foe dressed strangcr-he cum in-tho
members didn't wait, "
But every fellerijumpcd at him, an opened
wide his gotc. &.
The parson riz an raised his hands, with
cold and naughty air,
An everybody in tho house stood up an
heard his prayer.
Idon't know how it is with them.-somchow
3..s I always feel,
I'm doin' God injustice when I get too
proud to knccl
Then all sot down on stared about, then
at the parsons face,
Whilo he put on his specs and scd, "Let's
sing Amazin' Grace"
An origin busted loose up stairs-the music
hit was gay,
Hit tioked them as could sing, an them
wot he'd to pay.
The music quit, the parson riz-thoy passed
the hats round next,
An when the dcekins sot them down.-tho
parson tuck his text.
He prcach'd about two hours bout the
Faith in God to keep;
The wimmin folks wero noddin' while the'r
husbands wor asleep.
One gol scd to another, "Hev you seed my
bow to.day?"
She'd nod her he'd an then say back, '"rhc
party hit was gay"
One whispered loud enough behind her fan
fur me to hear:
"That bonnet Sofa 'rog's got on is one she
had last year."
The parson quit and then sot down-the
origin played agin;
I thought eff that was ser7in' God, tho tunes
they played was thin;
| hearn the bands at circuscs jest play the
self same air,
The parsou, when tho organ quit, dismissed
'em all with prayer.
Now, Davy, ef the angels seed what did,
believe,
Thar warn't ono, among 'em all, but what
laffed in thar sleeve;
For God don't smile on Christians who His
blessin's will abuse;
He hoin't no use for Origins an Ho don't
like rented pows.
He rings no bells to toll 'cm that the Sab
baths como once more;
Tho angels have no carriages to drive up to
His door.
Such Christians might as we'll look up to
God an sweetly smile,
An say, 81 send my soul, dear Lord; I'm