The Old Battered Hymn Book

There on the shelf lies the leather bound hymn book, Once taken to chapel on each Sunday morn, For so many years it had served a great purpose But now it lies faded, so battered and worn. The pages been turned many times many searches, For dog-eared and creased by those kind Christian hands, Whose voices sang out in the praise of our Saviour, And rang through the hills of these once sacred lands. Yet now almost silent as churches lie empty, Demolished, converted or left boarded up, And hiding the stained-glass that once let in sunlight, Who now to taste the sweet wine from the cup? When this hymn book was new I know things were so different, I wish we'd return to those times long before, As cast now aside on that dusty old bookcase, Once valued and cherished but not anymore. I look at the words written down through the ages, They still carry meaning from which we should learn, And each seems to stir a deep passion within me, I long for the day that my Lord shall return.