It was a stylish congregation, you could see that in and out and they have the biggest pipe organ any church in town ever had. But over at amen corner of that church sat Brother Ian and he insisted every Sunday on singing in the choir. His voice was cracked and broken, age have touched his vocal chords and nearly every Sunday he gets behind, missed the words.

Well, the choir got so flustered that the church was told that Brother Ian must stop his singing or the choir was going to resign. And so the pastor appointed a committee, I think it was three or four.

They got into their big fine cars and drove to the Ian store. They found the choir's great trouble sitting in an old arm chair, the summer's golden sun beams played upon his white hair. "York, we are here dear brother to discuss a little matter that affects the congregation. Now it seems your voice is interfering with the choir so if you will just lay out or...Are you listening Brother Ian?"
The old man raised his head, a sign that he did hear, and on his cheeks, the chairman saw a glimmer of a tear, his feeble hands pushed back a lock of his whitish silky snow hair and his voice spoke soft and low. "I wonder if beyond this tide that's breaking on my feet, in that far off heavenly temple where my Master and I shall meet, yes I wonder if when I try to sing these songs of God up high, I wonder if they will kick me out of there for singing in heaven's choir". A silence filled the little room, the old man bowed his head. The committee went back to town.

Shortly after, Brother Ian was dead. The choir met for a little while but he was soon forgotten. A few church folks watched the door but the old man entered not.

Far away, his voice is sweet and he sings his heart's desires where there are no church committees and fashionable choirs
"...let me hide myself in thee..."

fairy tales

advocate666: fairy tales

for an atheist,words of wisdom for christians.

F.K.O:
for an atheist,words of wisdom for christians.

of course, of course.