Well, wife, I've found the model church, And worshipped there today; It made me think of good old times, Before my hair was gray; The meeting house was finer built Than they were years ago, But then I found when I went in, It was not built for show. The sexton did not set me down Away back by the door; He knew that I was old and deaf, And saw that I was poor; He must have been a Christian man, He led me boldly through The crowded aisle of that grand church, To find a pleasant pew. I wish you'd heard the singing, wife, It had the old-time ring; The preacher said with trumpet voice, Let all the people sing: ?Old Coronation,? was the tune; The music upward rolled Until I tho't the angel choir Struck all their harps of gold. My deafness seemed to melt away, My spirit caught the fire; I joined my feeble, trembling voice With that melodious choir; And sang as in my youthful days, ?Let angels prostrate fall. Bring forth the royal diadem And crown Him Lord of all.? I tell you, wife, it did me good To sing that hymn once more; I felt like some wrecked mariner Who gets a glimpse of shore; I almost want to lay aside This weather beaten form, And anchor in the bless?d port, Forever from the storm. 'Twas not a flowery sermon, wife, But simple gospel truth; It fitted humble men like me; It suited hopeful youth; To win immortal souls to Christ, The earnest preacher tried; He talked not of himself, or creed, But Jesus crucified. Dear wife, the toil will soon be o'er, The vict'ry soon be won; The shining land is just ahead, Our race is nearly run; We're nearing Canaan's happy shore, Our home so bright and fair; Thank God, we'll never sin again, There'll be no sorrow there.