Let me tell you a story of a place of long ago.
It was on the River Dan, close to old Elmo
Good country people lived there, they even had a store
They sat on the porch of the store and waited for the train,
Listening for the whistle’s roar
A grey haired old man, his hair as white as snow
Would sell you the food you needed,
The prices were always low.
The train came down the tracks
to bring our mail to us.
On a hill behind this store,
There stood an old, old mill,
Friendly country people worked and lived around this hill.
These things live on and on, in our memory
Where did it go, and why did it go?
Please bring Paces back to me.
—Julia Carrington, South Boston
The Good Shepherd
The Good Shepherd corrals the sheep.
Keeps them safe from ferocious teeth.
“Makes them lie beside still waters.”
Receives them into His inner quarters.
“Good and mercy will follow my life.”
Treats me like His precious wife.
Will quell the fight,
Will still the strife.
Will guide by his inner light.