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Old Bethel Church lived to see its congregation pass away. Some passed out into the churchyard, some just pass by looking for other places. No matter. It has stood alone on the hill - faithfully, patiently forty years now without a sign of rot or decay. Willing, no doubt, to wait another forty or more if need be. No matter. The Church immortal still commands the bluff. |
This poem is from a collection "Out Doors" published
by "Rural Image",
POB 713, Atlanta IL 61723 USA.
Text and photograph © David A Bishop
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