The Old Brush Arbor Days
I was lying in my bed one night,
Sleepless, I began to wonder,
About the days of long ago,
When people worshiped under the old Brush Arbor.
Most of my folks were farmers,
Buggies were all they had,
If you had rubber tires on them however,
You might have been first class!
People really loved the Lord,
Dinner on the stove at twelve o’clock was
nothing to them at all.
There were no timers on the stoves,
So they cook their dinner when they got home.
The preacher, preached with all his power,
Until he finished what he had to say.
No one got in any hurry.
They enjoyed a perfect day.
I’ve only been to one brush arbor meeting,
They just don’t have them anymore.
Many songs with the blood of Jesus has been
from our hymnals and music stores.
But I still prefer the hymns of long ago.
The ones about the cross,
Where Jesus shed his blood for us,
The sacrifice that saved the lost.
Without the blood that Jesus shed,
Upon that rugged cross,
Without that perfect sacrifice,
Today we’d still be lost.
So when you take away the blood of Jesus,
From off the rugged cross,
You take a way the hope of your salvation,
And all your hope is lost.
Faye Reyenga ©
9 / 6 / 2005 ©