A poem written by a faithful member in the late 1800's
"There's a dear little church with a very plain look,
just down the street in a quiet nook,
the doctrine taught us to do no ill,
for it's old fashioned free-will.
There are men and women, with so much care.
They can hardly find time to breathe a prayer,
yet the little church down the street,
offers to them an inviting seat,
cares grow lighter, life's burden less,
and this place is full of blessedness."