On the left, across the lane, was a large cornfield, with trees here and there, and down the valley I could see the Big Creek coming from the west, the Big Hill with the church on top, and always the white gravestones around it.

Always too there was the sky overhead, often with clouds banked until you felt if you only could reach them, you could climb straight to the gates that father was so fond of singing about sweeping through.

Mostly there was a big hawk or a turkey buzzard hanging among them, just to show us that we were not so much, and that we couldn't shoot them, unless they chose to come down and give us a chance.
I set Bobby and Hezekiah on the fence and stood between them.

"We will open service this morning by singing the thirty-fifth hymn," I said.
"Sister Dover, will you pitch the tune ?" Then I made my voice high and squeally like hers and sang: "Come ye that love the Lord, And let your joys be known, Join in a song of sweet accord, And thus surround the throne." I sang all of it and then said: "Brother Hastings, will you lead us in prayer ?" Then I knelt down, and prayed Brother Hastings' prayer.

I could have repeated any one of a dozen of the prayers the men of our church prayed, but I liked Brother Hastings' best, because it had the biggest words in it.