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ST. MARK’S CHURCH
Dedicated to Mrs. W.R. Shriner
Its architecture gives me pure delight;
This mass of stone built by the hand of man,
Like ancient tracery from some time past
Against the sky, it seems to be God’s plan.
Its setting ‘midst the trees and busy mart
Of daily life which passes by its door;
It stands a friend in welcome attitude
For sanctuary- be one rich or poor.
Within its walls there is a symphony
Of old cathedral touches blended new,
Which centers high above the chancel rail
In jeweled windows glazed like heaven’s blue.
Within its walls I feel a deep content
That I am in my church, the church of God.
Built on true faith and love, and memories
Of some who in this house have never trod.
We thank Thee, Lord, for these Thy benefits.
Give grace and strength to all who enter here;
In happiness, in sorrow, deeds of love,
Bless each according to the need held dear,
And when times come which try men’s very souls,
A precious cornerstone may this church be;
A place where courage, hope and faith extols,
That each go out an evangel for Thee.
- Jean McReynolds (Mrs. J.L. McReynolds)
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OUR CHURCH
‘Twas only a dream at first you know,
But a dream of Heaven inspired;
But out of a dream could reality grow?
If our hearts with the vision were fired?
O God! We would build a Temple to Thee;
A Temple of beauty and grace;
A Temple enduring, yes, this is our plea,
Which time shall not mar or deface.
Day followed day, and our vision grew,
We developed the plans we desired;
And none but God and the angels knew,
The sacrifices required.
As brick upon brick and stone upon stone
Our Edifice sprang from the ground,
There arose from our hearts to the great white throne,
Thanksgiving most profound.
A year today since we entered this place,
A year of the labor we love;
Our birthday prayer is for more of Thy grace,
Descending from heaven above.
Help us to make this a place, Oh God,
Where the heart that is sad will be cheered;
Where souls shall be free from their burdensome load,
And Christ to us all be be endeared.
A place where sinners shall bow by the score,
Confessing their sins at Thy feet;
And arising, go hence to be sinful no more,
The dawn of a new life to greet.
A place to which man and maid as a pair,
Shall come to be joined together ;
A few brief words, a ring, a prayer,
And they are made one forever.
Then comes a day when we’re gently borne,
To a place near the altar there;
And there is the sound of those who mourn,
As the pastor prays softly a prayer.
And thus from the cradle to the grave,
Our church has a part in it all;
O God! make us earnest and loyal and brave,
And ready to dome at Thy call.
- F.A. Wademan, February 2, 1941
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Here in Thy Temple, Lord,
We come to pray,
Here we may lay aside
Cares of every day.
Beauty in Thy Temple, Lord,
Peace and quiet here;
Storms rage in a war-torn world;
Here thou art near.
Love in Thy Temple, Lord,
Strength for tasks to do;
Here in Thy Temple, Lord
Our faith renew.
- Mollie Jim Gilley, January 23, 1941
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