OUR FOUR-HYMN CHURCH
by Mariane Holbrook 

Four hymns, that’s all.

At the little backwoods church we go to, we jus’ sing the same four hymns 
every Sunday from our dog-eared, worn-out, brown Baptist hymnals. Not 
‘cuz we don’t approve of the other 283 hymns in the book but ‘cuz those 
four songs is all Effie, our 78-year-old song leader, knows.

And she’s not about to learn no new ones, neither. 

“Those four hymns done says it all,” she declared when anyone suggests 
we try somethin’ new like “How Great Thou Art.” We’ve sung “Shall We 
Gather At the River” even when we weren’t a-havin’ baptisms at Long 
Bottom Creek. Makes no sense.

On a good Sunday mornin’, our attendance averages maybe 32 which 
ain’t bad considerin’ there are seven other Baptist churches in our tiny 
mountain community and its round-a-bouts. It seems like every coupla 
years we see Jackie Harris’ lumber truck unload another pile
of 2x4’s and trusses on an unused pasture with a sign a-sayin,’ 
“Future home of ‘This Here Is The Truth Baptist Church’.”

“Uh oh,” we’d murmur out loud. “I wonder which church is givin’ birth to a 
daughter church this time,” which was just a polite term for, “I wonder which 
family done blew their cork at the congregational meetin’ and decided to 
go start a church of their own out in their pasture.”

But 32 members ain’t bad, like I say, if you consider Ginger’s contribution 
of another baby to the roll ‘bout every year or so. Ginger took God's command-
ment "Go and replenish the earth" as her personal mission statement.

On this particular mornin’ of which I’m about to tell you, we was all standin’ 
and a-singin’ the final hymn before the benediction. Nobody bothered openin’ 
their hymn books because we knew all the verses by heart (thanks to Effie).

Well, sir, we was a-singin’ the third stanza of that song and here comes 
Ruby and Kermit down the center aisle and took their places in the 
second row, like as always. 

We all looked at each other and whispered, “Uh oh. Looks like somebody 
done fergot that last night we begun Daylight Savin’s Time.”

So, we all watched 80-year-old Ruby and Kermit stand there and sing 
their little hearts out on the fourth stanza, just a-lettin’ ‘er rip!

“Stan-DINNNNNN’! Ah’m standin' on the promises of God.”

We was all nudgin' each other and a-grinnin’ like possums from ear to ear 
when Ruby and Kermit sat down! They was all prayed up and ready for the 
sermon to begin.

But the rest of us was still a-standin’ and preacher Miles raised his arm 
out over the congregation and says, “Now may the Lord bless you and 
keep you. May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and give you 
peace. Amen. Go with God.”

Well, sir, I’d give all the money I made from molasses last year if you 
coulda seen the expressions on Ruby’s and Kermit’s faces. They looked 
at each other and just had no idear what on earth was a-happenin’. 

“Are we a-losin’ our minds?” they wondered. “Is our church about to split
again with people a-leavin’ before the preachin’ even gets started?”

They saw people movin’ out of their pews an’ a-headin’ for the door! 
What in heaven’s name?

Suddenly, every single person in the church just busted out a-laughin’. 
I mean they bent double and was a-rockin'back and forth, because Ruby an’ 
Kermit still didn’t have not one clue about what was a-goin’ on.

Finally, our preacher, bless his heart, went over to them, reached down 
and patted Kermit on the shoulder.


“Kermit, I believe you and Ruby done forgot that Daylight Savings time 
starts today. I bet you didn’t set your clocks ahead, did you, because 
the preachin' is all over now, it’s not just beginnin’.”

Slowly, a big sigh of relief settled over both their sweet ole leathery faces 
and they laughed and laughed. They weren’t a-losin’ their minds after all 
and the church wasn’t splittin’. Praise God for that much!

The preacher, tryin’ hard not to make Ruby and Kermit look foolish, said, 
“Folks, the Bible says, ‘They all went out a-singing.’ Let’s do that this 
mornin'. What shall we sing, Effie?”

“The Old Rugged Cross,” Effie said (as we all groaned).

“How about one of the other 4 songs we know,” the preacher said with a 
grin.

So, after we all hugged on Ruby and Kermit, we all went out a-singin,’ 
“Blest Be The Tie That Binds.” Because those blessed ties do bind fer certain.

Well, that is, unless somebody done lets off steam at the next congregational 
meetin’ and starts their own church down yonder in the pasture or sumthin'. (wink, wink)