A Sunday morning gathering, 

In tethers they're aligned; 

Horses and their buggies, 

To their posts consigned. 

The Elders of the Village 

Lead the flock in prayer; 

Bowed beneath the countenance 

Of spirits in the air. 

The meek are humbled rightly 

Beneath Jehovah's grace; 

And in the calming splendor 

Reflectively embrace.