Sunlight filters thru still air
Bare wood benches worn with care
Echoes of small children’s cries
Now long grown - still living lies
That old church stands feeble now
Hymns of yore still cling somehow
To plain walls that silent stand
Long forsook by praying hands
Circuit preachers' burning songs
Bringing hope to folks gone wrong
Then temptation pressed them sore
Faith and trust fell to the floor
Sunlight filters thru still air
Bare wood benches worn with care
Echoes of small children’s cries
Now long grown - still living lies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Bringing hope to folk gone wrong', 'bare wood benches worn with care', faith and trust.