The clanking of the church bell sounded softly over the small mountain village, as it was buffered by the mist that hung heavy in the mountain air. The illusion of a sprite dancing in the mist was brought about by the air currents catching the wispy clouds and swirling them through the mountain tops. The villagers were willing to brave the chill and walk the worn path to the little brown church in the vale, to join in the warm fellowship of the tiny congregation. All the cares and burdens of the past seemed to melt away and transfer to some distant peak as they crossed the threshold of that tiny church. "No spot is so dear to my childhood as the little brown church in the vale."

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THE LITTLE BROWN CHURCH IN THE VALE

There's a church in the valley by the wildwood, No lovelier spot in the dale No spot is so dear to my childhood As the little brown church in the vale.

~Chorus~

O come to the church in the wildwood O come to the church in the dale No spot is so dear to my childhood As the little brown church in the vale.

How sweet on a clear Sabbath morning, To list to the clear ringing bell It's tones so sweetly are calling. O come to the church in the vale

There, close by the church in the valley by the wildwood When day fades away into nite. I would fain from this spot of my childhood Wing my way to the mansions of light

There's a church in the valley by the wildwood, No lovelier place in the dale: No spot is so dear to my childhood As the little brown church in the vale.

author~William S. Pitts.