Rock Branch Church & Cemetery. circa 1950's
The following is a transcription of a poem about Rock Branch from an original newspaper clipping.


GONE
(written in memory of Old Rock Branch Church)

I loved it; I loved it and who should dare
To chide me for loving the old church there.
I cherished it long as a sacred place,
Established by God and sustained by His grace.
But now it is gone and the tears flood my face
As I think of the past of that dear place.

Where are the friends who once gathered there?
Some of them rest in the grave yard, near,
While many have wandered (forgive this tear).
The church was forgotten and allowed to decay
While the sinner sinned and wandered away.

With love we recall the Sunday School there;
Where we weekly meet for song and prayer,
For lessons of Christ and His Golden Rule
We can never forget the old Sunday School,
Where neighbors met, in friendly cheer
Laughter for laughter, tear for tear
Chiding the wayward one, helping the poor,
Welcoming the stranger, who entered the door,
Pointing to Heaven, and leading the way
To endless life and a happy day.

At the old church alter, strong men once bowed
in prayer
Begged God for forgiveness
And found sweet peace there.
Help for the burden, strength for the load
Light and guidance for the stony road
God sent His power, transformed them there
While they knelt in pleading, penitent prayer.

At the same old alter, the bride, sweet and fair
Joined with the husband true devotion to share.
Here the infant was consecrated to God for
His own,
While his angels gloried around the throne
To look on these scenes so wondrous fair.
Oh the sacred place was the alter there.

Ah well, times have changed
And the world jogs along
Sorrow and gladness, sobs and a song
Mingle together like sunshine and rain,
Thunder-clouds, storm, winds then sunshine again
But if through neglect, thoughtlessness or dull cars
We neglected our duties, neglected our prayers.
Ours are now the heart aches, no blessings of good.
A sinful people a churchless neighborhood.

No place for a funeral, no place for a song
No place as a solace as we journey along.
Just a place for regret, just a place for a tear
And a longing for rest in the graveyard near.


By Jennie V. Crawford

Sept 2017