Singing Hymns...



 An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church.

 He came home and his wife asked him how it was.

    "Well," said the farmer, "It was good. They did something different,    however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns."

   "Praise choruses," said his wife, "What are those?"

    "Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like hymns, only different," said  the farmer.

    "Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.

    The farmer said, "Well it's like this - If I were to say to you:  'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well that would be a hymn. If, on the other hand, I were to say to you: Martha, Martha, Martha, Oh, Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA, the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows, the white cows, the black and white  cows, the COWS, COWS, COWS are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn, in the CORN, CORN, CORN,   COOOOORRRRRNNNNN.    Then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well that would be a praise chorus."

    As luck would have it, the exact same Sunday a young, new Christian from the city church attended the small town church. He  came home and his wife asked him how it was.

    "Well, " said the young man, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs."

    "Hymns," said his wife, "What are those?"

    "They're okay. They're sort of like regular songs, only different," said the young man.

    "Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.

    The young man said, "Well it's like this - If I were to say to you, Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well that would be a regular song. If on the other hand, I were to say to you: Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry
 Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth. Turn thou they whole wondrous ear by and by
 To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.

    For the way of the animals who can explain
    There in their heads is no shadow of sense,
    Hearkenest they in God's sun or his rain
    Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.

    Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight,
    Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
    Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
    They all my mild Chillliwack sweet corn have chewed.

    So look to that bright shining day by and by,
    Where all foul corruption's of earth are reborn.
    Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry
    And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.

    Then, if I were to do only verses one, three and four and move
    to a key change on the last verse, well that would be a Lutheran
   hymn."

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