About 1938, the old school building was in bad shape, and, since it belonged to the State, the church could not fix it up. They started looking for a permanent home, and eventually found a place at the crest of a hill about a mile east of our house. The plans were formed for a new church house.

The Federal Government owned a lot of timber in the mountains nearby. Several of the members purchased timber and the Church bought enough to make a saw mill set up well worth the time. They moved a sawmill in and cut the timber, and hauled it out with mules and wagons.

It was stacked up on the spot where the church was to be built until it had dried, and then they hired a man to come in and plane the lumber. My Father worked at the plainer through out the job. My Brother, J.W., and I worked there too. Many of the men of the community came and worked.

When the lumber was ready, the men gathered on the spot and started building. Several worked who did not even belong to the church.

In a couple of months there was a church house there. It was a single room with a low stage up front. The pews came from some other church that had died. There was a brick flue near the middle for a stove. An old piano was placed in the front on the left side.

When the State abandoned the old building they gave the large brass bell to our little church. Several men got together and built a bell foyer and tower on the front and put the bell in place with a long rope hanging down. That bell, as it was at the top of a hill, could be heard for several miles. It was used as an alarm when any disaster took place. The most memorial sounds were when some of our young men were killed or hurt in the war. Someone would go to the church and ring the bell until people gathered. A prayer service was then held. Those were sad times. I remember my mother, on hearing that bell, say,"Oh, God, please be with us!"

I remember so well the dedication of that building. I was so proud of the friends and family who had worked so hard to accomplish this great temple, and of myself, because I had had a part. The people prayed together that day, and I know God looked upon that little church that was a Temple to Him, and he was pleased.

I grew up in that church. We went there to cry and pray when the war took one of our folks. We studied the word of God in that house of His. We made eyes at the girls in the house, and they smiled back. We got into mischief in that building. Most of all, we built character that has lasted for the rest of our lives.

I often think of that church, and of the folks who went there. It was not the largest church, but it was the best. I find myself wishing at times that I could go into that building again and listen to the old hymns being sung, often off-key, but always beautiful, and whisper with my friends, and make eyes at the girls and have them smile back, and...Pray again in that Great Temple of God.
- - - Tom