Nancy Logsdon & The Murdy Standard

Nancy Logsdon & The Murdy Standard


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No One Goes To Church Here, Anymore

Written By: Nancy Murdy Logsdon

No One Goes To Church Here, Anymore
© 2003 Nancy Logsdon BMI

One Sunday morning, driving I-44
I saw her sittin’ against the mountain
In the old white paint she wore.
The parking lot was empty,
There was a lock upon the door,
‘Cause nobody goes to church here anymore.

No church bell ringing out a welcome to the poor
No one to lead the singing
Nobody praying on the floor
There were flowers in the graveyard
And a wreath upon the door
But nobody goes to church here any more.

(And I remembered) preachin’ till the Holy Ghost came down
And a lot of Sunday meetins’ near a wood stove, gathered ‘round.
And I remember singing Amazing Grace How Sweet the Sound
And the joyful sinner crying, “I was lost but now I’m found!”
And the gathering at the river when this little girl got saved
I remember mama smiling, as my sins were washed away.
How I longed to turn my car around
And enter through those doors….
But, no one goes to church here, anymore.

When did the folks stop coming, from all the way in town?
When did they burn the old brush arbor,
And stop the dinners on the ground?
Who said it wasn’t proper to have sawdust on the floor?
Who said, “We can’t have church here, anymore?”

Well, I wonder did those people have to build a bigger church?
Or did they just stop coming
And get discouraged in their work?
For if two or three will gather in the sweet name of our Lord,
How come we can’t have church here, anymore?

(Where I remember…) Chorus again

We need to gather all the children and open all those doors..
Where no one goes to church at anymore.