Little church why’s there no cross on your steeple?

Where there once stood one so proudly before,

Why’s your paint all peeled and blistered?

And why are there locks and chains on your doors?

Your colored windows of stain are now missing,

And have been replaced with nails and boards,

I came here to speak to “My Jesus”,

“Jesus Christ”, my Savior, My Lord.

I remember when I came and cried at the foot of your altar,

And laid all my burdens and sins at the cross,

Where I felt the Holy Spirit engulf my weary soul,

Where once it was hell bound and lost.

Little church what have you done with my Jesus?

Have you gotten rid of Him too?

I need to speak to “My Jesus…My savior”,

That is all…  I’m begging of you.

Oh the sounds of your choir…I still hear them,

With the voices of Heaven’s sweet Angels,

Did they stop now singing their praises inside?

Will your doors ever re-open again?

Where the hurt and needy could come and reside.

Little church please give me a signal,

Please let me know that you’re listening to me,

Little church I am willing to restore you again,

I’ll give you more than before…a better servant I’ll be.

By: Linda Winchell