In halls where echoes softly tread, beneath the steeples high,
A chorus of the ages, beneath the vaulted sky.
The hymns of old, with words like gold, are fading day by day,
A treasure trove of wisdom, in silence starts to fray.

“Bring back the songs,” the whispers plead, in every wooden pew,
The melodies that souls would feed, with truths forever true.
The ancient notes, in harmony, a balm for every pain,
A bridge across the centuries, in every refrain.

For in those lines of grace and fears, of battles won and lost,
Lie messages through all the years, that hold no costly cost.
The youth in search, with hearts aflame, for answers deep and wide,
Need hear the hymns that once did claim, the truth that does not hide.

Why let them waste, these hymns of old, with power to mend and save?
Their stories, precious, bold, a light in every grave.
The hymns that once did shake the walls, and stir the soul’s deep sea,
A call to arms, when duty calls, for you, for me.

Let not the chance to sing them fade, like mist at morning’s light,
Their legacy should not be laid, in shadows of the night.
For in their verses, strong and clear, a message does reside,
That every yearning heart should hear, a guide through time and tide.

So, churches, raise those hymns once more, let them your services fill,
Their truths are what the young souls yearn, their void, no modern song can fill.
A hymn of old, a heart made bold, can light the darkest way,
For songs of old, their worth untold, are what we need today.

March 28, 2024
Created by 
MarkWaldrop