I wonder if the heart windows of those saints' souls were opened or closed.
Sittin' side by side with rigid backs on pews lined up in duet rows.
I still see each one as they sat inside that little gray, shingled church prayerfully posed.
Did they ponder, just as I do, what God so wonderfully sows?

Burdened for souls in the hot burnin' air;
Whippin' funeral home fans as hard as they dared,
While listenin' to a searin' hot sermon of that feisty Jumpin' Jack preacher,

Him preachin' about the flames of a blazing hell!
He was makin' them feel the flames, sizzling red-hot!
The frightened children's mouths getting' ready to pout,
Then, the congregation exclaimed, "No! Don't change any of those words-not one little jot!"

Right after that, the preacher asked, "Are your heart windows opened or closed?"
That aroused the congregation's slumbering souls.
Thereupon, the flock in unison replied, "Our heart windows are opened."

Then, down the aisle came one lone saint praisin',
"Yes! I'm the Lord's "Number One Fanatic".
"Praise the Beautiful Rose of Sharon. He saved me and I ain't doubtin'! Amen!"

I see those wrinkled, shriveled up saints waving lily-white hankies.
All the children were squirmin' and gigglin' in their delight while their mothers, straight-as-a-ruler backed, sisters of the Blessed Savior, scolded, "I'll give you a spankin'."
So the preacher admonished, "You best be doin' some thinkin'."

He boldly stared at the stiff-upper lipped brothers,
with their ties, white shirts, and coats just so,
And chided, "What you been doin'? Have you sunk so very low?"
He shouted, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
if you are to reap the harvest that you sow."

He fervently whispered, "Are ya sure your heart windows are open?"
Those heart windows were surely open.
Sinners came down the aisle by the dozen.

Later the church members gathered at the fork of a murky, muddied creek.
The preacher inquired, "Do you seek the Lily of the Valley?"
He cautioned, "Listen, listen, the Blessed Redeemer calls you from Satan's sinful den."
At that moment, the repenting sinners went to shoutin',
"Hallelujah! We're now God's children!

Brothers and Sisters! Amen!"
Everyone fervidly sang, "Shall We Gather at the River".
The young children went wadin' in the creek and taunted each other sayin',
"You're a yellow-bellied chicken!"
They didn't understand about heart windows being open.

I remember that the shivering, Salvation Army stood in a serpentine file for a moment gazin' at that blackened, guarding range of mountains.
The three "Ss" - saints, sinners, and saved - all of 'em were
silhouetted against the sun-kissed sky.
This saintly army in emboldened union marched to the edge of the swiftly runnin' creek.

The saved ones walked into the icy water with the preacher and he said, "I now baptize you in the name of God, our Blessed Redeemer, and in the Holy Ghost!"
He exclaimed to the joyful saints, "You are now soldiers of the cross.
Strap on the armor of God and boast of Him!"
Then, he admonished, "Don't allow Satan to win the fight.
Remember prayer meetin' is tonight."
He asked the congregation, "Will you keep those heart windows open?"

That congregation was like a communed field.
Hopin' to harvest the bountiful crop of the unsaved souls of the world,
Placin' their plows in a winding, hard-packed road,
Reapin' what they had diligently sowed.
Teachin' redeemed souls to till Christianity's garden right.

That church was a great force in a climate of love.
Placin' sickened plants into the light,
Puttin' 'em in the road that was right,
Girdin' them up so's to let them fight sin's blight,
Showin' the now livin' the Sweet Heavenly Dove.

Compostin' sin's stenches and turnin' 'em into the fragrances of heaven..
Seein' God's reflection in sin's muddied pool.
Through the years that congregation's heart windows remained open.

Now, delving into memory's baptismal, it makes me wonder,
"Long ago, why did they salvation's seed sow?"
And, I question, "Oh, have I sunken too low?"

Then, I pray, "Lord, let me study these questions for a while."
After that, I'll ask myself, "Am I that vile?"

"God, come unto me and linger."
"On my soul, lay your gentle fingers."
"Burden my soul with sin's conviction."
"Do not lessen its constriction."

I say, "Yes, those Christians' prayers destined that I would take up this pen."
Now, I let them know that their harvest has come because I write,
"Yes, my heart windows are open!"

(© 2012 Dreama Ward – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)