You may say, Preacher, where is your black Bible?
Why ain't you preachin down sin?
You may say, Preacher, why ain't you talkin about hell?
What about lipstick and short dresses?
What about cigarettes and whiskey?
What about dope and long hair?

Well, I didn't bring my Bible for a purpose.
Because this morning I wanted to say to you
I've been through all the books and come out on yonside.
I'm educated, but not like the Brown boys.
Let me tell you about the Brown boys.

Feller over close to where I live
wanted some little cedar trees dug up
and planted in a row beside his house.
Tried to hire the Johnson boys, his neighbors,
but they were too scared to do it, didn't believe
in digging up cedar trees; they'd always heard
you'd die whenever the trees got tall enough
for their shadow to cover your grave.
Get somebody else, they said.
Get old Jim Brown and Tom Brown.
They're educated, don't believe in nothin.
Well, I'm educated, but not like the Brown boys.
There's something I believe in:
You must be born again.

[from "Brier Sermon" by Jim Wayne Miller]

- - -

Strains of sacred hymns still echo off hard poplar pews, faint and reverent.
Or may be it's just the sound of the walls peeling and ceilings flaking?

[from "Death of a Church" by Robert Miller]