THE LITTLE WHITE CHURCH ON THE HILL
The old oak tree still stands on the hill, it’s branches spreading wide;
The cedar trees with their perfume, lined up, still stand beside
The cemetery, with tombstones old, so peaceful and so still,
But the centerpiece of this rural scene is the little white church on the hill.
Since 1883 it has stood there, a lighthouse to show the way,
A haven for the weary, a place for the burdened to pray.
Jacob Blickensderfer designed it, but God set the dream in his heart.
Oakland needed a churchhouse, where people could draw apart
And come to a place of worship when they needed sweet peace and rest;
A place where they felt God’s presence, when they needed to be blessed;
A place where they sought His healing when the physical body was ill;
Jacob built them this House of Worship, this little white church on the hill.
The bell tower guards the southern side, the bell rings loud and clear
Proclaiming the time of worship has come, as it’s done for many a year;
And the little white church with its doors open wide still welcomes God’s people in
Where the music rings out and the gospel is preached that you can be saved from your sin.
Weathered stones now compose the old library walls where ivy has grown through the years -
A memorial built more than a century ago in honor of one held so dear
Who wrote in his diary that family and business meant so much to him, but still
He was leaving a legacy for others to use– the little white church on the hill.
The old wooden cross which was hand made with love still beckons the weary to come;
It’s the first thing you see when you enter the church and you know that at last you are home
In the little white church which was built long ago for families who wanted to pray,
Where the altar is blessed and stained with the tears of those who were seeking the Way.
Sometimes in the silence of this sanctuary - I sit and it seems I can hear
The laughter of children from days long ago, the memories that now seem so near
Of Jacob, Louisa, and their children, too, who worshiped in this very place.
These walls heard their songs and echoed their prayers as they came to partake of His grace.
And I can just see their caskets, draped with sadness and flowers of mourning
Being carried away from this chapel outside to await the final dawning.
When their graves on this hillside will open and this building will be no more,
But the church will all be together on that happy golden shore.
And we will all share our precious memories of the times we gathered here
As we sang and prayed and worshipped in this place we all hold dear;
And I think even heaven will listen, and the angels will all be still
As we remember the blessings of Oakland, and the little white church on the hill.
Written by Pastor Joan Hart on July 26, 2002 in honor of the Oakland Heritage Church of God, formerly the Oakland United Methodist Church, and originally the Oakland Moravian Church, and in memory of Jacob Blickensderfer, who designed and built the church in 1883. Copyright 2002
The old oak tree still stands on the hill, it’s branches spreading wide;
The cedar trees with their perfume, lined up, still stand beside
The cemetery, with tombstones old, so peaceful and so still,
But the centerpiece of this rural scene is the little white church on the hill.
Since 1883 it has stood there, a lighthouse to show the way,
A haven for the weary, a place for the burdened to pray.
Jacob Blickensderfer designed it, but God set the dream in his heart.
Oakland needed a churchhouse, where people could draw apart
And come to a place of worship when they needed sweet peace and rest;
A place where they felt God’s presence, when they needed to be blessed;
A place where they sought His healing when the physical body was ill;
Jacob built them this House of Worship, this little white church on the hill.
The bell tower guards the southern side, the bell rings loud and clear
Proclaiming the time of worship has come, as it’s done for many a year;
And the little white church with its doors open wide still welcomes God’s people in
Where the music rings out and the gospel is preached that you can be saved from your sin.
Weathered stones now compose the old library walls where ivy has grown through the years -
A memorial built more than a century ago in honor of one held so dear
Who wrote in his diary that family and business meant so much to him, but still
He was leaving a legacy for others to use– the little white church on the hill.
The old wooden cross which was hand made with love still beckons the weary to come;
It’s the first thing you see when you enter the church and you know that at last you are home
In the little white church which was built long ago for families who wanted to pray,
Where the altar is blessed and stained with the tears of those who were seeking the Way.
Sometimes in the silence of this sanctuary - I sit and it seems I can hear
The laughter of children from days long ago, the memories that now seem so near
Of Jacob, Louisa, and their children, too, who worshiped in this very place.
These walls heard their songs and echoed their prayers as they came to partake of His grace.
And I can just see their caskets, draped with sadness and flowers of mourning
Being carried away from this chapel outside to await the final dawning.
When their graves on this hillside will open and this building will be no more,
But the church will all be together on that happy golden shore.
And we will all share our precious memories of the times we gathered here
As we sang and prayed and worshipped in this place we all hold dear;
And I think even heaven will listen, and the angels will all be still
As we remember the blessings of Oakland, and the little white church on the hill.
Written by Pastor Joan Hart on July 26, 2002 in honor of the Oakland Heritage Church of God, formerly the Oakland United Methodist Church, and originally the Oakland Moravian Church, and in memory of Jacob Blickensderfer, who designed and built the church in 1883. Copyright 2002
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