The Old Zion Church

Away from town, two miles, or more
There stood the Church I did adore
Yes, I can say it without fear
That was Old Zion Church, so dear.

Her large white walls from far were seen
Nestled amid the maples green
Four fluted columns, white as snow,
Oft there I saw, at sunset flow.

The robins sing, so loud and clear
Yet in the maples, waving there;
For that old church, within my hear,
I hold a longing home-sick smart;

That dear old church is gone, today
And logs and stones are moved away;
OH, Zion Church, for this I sign
A tear-drop dims my misty eye.

Good people came from everywhere
To Preparatory Service there;
And humble members, with song and prayer
Quite often took communion there.

Reemsnyder, Kreighbaum, Roush and Holl,
Beotler, Miller, Sheets, Bach and Strohl:
These humble members, true to heart,
Through Reformed faith, they did their part.

Bender, Schneider, Holtz, Bair and Smith
Harter, Pepple and Shook there with
These dear old friends were often heard
Serving the Lord, through Luther's word.

To serve the Lord, through dust and snow
Both large and small were sure to go:
Oft in that church all gathered there,
They raised their voice in fervent prayer.

Father Herbruck, I see him stand
On the pulpit, with book in hand;
His snow white locks, so fine and fair
Were waving in the balmy air.

A look of love, a thought of promise
Was always seen upon his face;
For help and grace he then would pray,
And "Gelibten in dem herrn" would say.

Pastor Beuchler I can See,
Standing there at the white altar;
He baptized many a child,
To make free from all sin.

He never failed his duty
And Served the communion well;
He spoke to us so nicely,
I feel as if I hear it clearly.

Father Shook celebrated the singing
He tried to do his best;
He is now gone and sleeps so sweetly,
I hope he's singin in Paradise.

Johnny Moore sang tenor,
His voice sounded through the church:
Johnny did his part,
He's sleeping now in sweet rest.

To me the singing was a joy,
I feel as if I hear it clearly:
The lovely sounds of the singing,
I hear them all through the years.

The old singers are gone now,
They're all sleeping in the churchyard there;
Their age and also their names,
You can read on the stones in the graveyard.

O, old friends, it pains me,
That I now can never see you again;
Keep on sleeping from age to age,
Until time is all in eternity.

O Zion's hope, you lovely place,
Many a friend is quiet there;
And where I often shed tears,
My Daddy, Mommy sleep sweetly.

My Time is passing as in a dream,
Yes, as on the sea the foam disappears:
And when my time comes,
Let me sleep in that place

Henry C. Holl
February 1912