Davis City Community of Christ

Davis City, Iowa

The Davis City Advance, Davis City, Iowa
Thursday, March 23, 1899

ELDER FRED BLAIR who has been holding meetings at the L.D.S. Chapel for the past four weeks, closed the meetings Sunday. There was a good attendance throughout the meetings and a good interest shown.

Sunday afternoon ELDER BLAIR baptized the following persons in the river below the mill:

Master Ernest Harvey, Mr. Hiram Ewing, Mrs. James Post and Mrs. S.E. Adams. Mr. Richard Merritt and Miss (?) Stephens went to Lamoni Monday and were baptized there by ELDER BLAIR. Miss Martha Bailey accompanied Miss Stephens to Lamoni.

Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert
October 1, 2003
By Otis Snethen (1907 – 1986)
The Davis City Church, the branch, the group,
Is a century old today,
And we are met to celebrate
In this most appropriate way.

One hundred years of history,
It is really quite a spell
To bring to mind one afternoon
And each little detail tell.

It’s quite a lot of summers
As I’m sure you each must know
And of bitter winds of winter;
And of white and driven snow.

Truly many things have happened
Through the bygone days of yore
Mainly to the lovely people
Who have crossed my threshold o’er.

Yes, the things of prime importance
I could never do without
Was the people who attended
Curious, searching, the devout.

As we pause in recognition
Of this so important day,
We would trace the course of actions
That have brought us to this day.

Many things have filled my memories
As I served the passing years
Some of joy and exultation
Some of sorrow and of tears.

And I sought to serve the people
In their many needs of life
Widows, orphans, aged persons
Youth and maiden, husband, wife.

And I sought to point the pathway
To that God who loves us all
Sent His Son to reconcile us
And redeem us from the fall.

Peace and hope and glad fulfillment
Duty, purpose, dedication,
Love and faith, and full obedience
Was the teaching of the Son.

And there was this tall, white building
With the ceiling arched and high
And then there was a steeple
Pointing upwards to the sky.

In the north end was a rostrum
Where the preacher stood to speak
And on it there was a pulpit
That was fashioned quite unique.

And it had one other feature
Of which I want to speak
It had leaded, stained-glass windows
And they too were quite unique.

In the south end was a balcony
It was reached by a winding stair
And the small younger children
Would have their classes there.
And the room was cold in winter
It would make hardy quail
And then again in summer
Just opposite would prevail.

It had two stoves to heat it
One was placed on either side
And where to sit in winter
Didn’t take long to decide.

Folks were baptized in the river
Down by the old brick mill,
Sometimes in the winter season
When the air had quite a chill.

Some of you may have forgotten
But the church once had a bell,
And its tones could tell a story
There’s no other way to tell.

And its tones on Sunday mornings
Ringing out across the field,
Gave assurance to the people
Invitation, hope, appeal.

Out in front there was a billboard
And it told the pastor’s name,
And the date and hours of service,
And some helpful thought proclaim.

And I once had a piano
And it had its own appeal
And the harmony it gave us
One could hear and also feel.

And the organ is a memorial
To Erald and Una Scott,
May it serve us long and faithful
May they never be forgot.

I will speak now of the pastors,
And I will not name them all.
And they each brought their devotion
Tried to stand up straight and tall.

Some brought one gift, some another,
So it seems as I recall,
And they came from varied backgrounds
But no one embraced them all.

Of the ones that served more recent,
Just a few let me recall,
Willard Moon and Willard Bettis
And John Lane and Wilbur Prall.

Hollis Yarrington, Roy MacDonald,
And Lorne Worthington in fine,
And Jay Barr and Percy Howard,
Bill and Robert Ballentyne.

Now time will not permit me
To name them one and all,
But I want to name one other
And that will be Wayne Small.

Let me speak of the willing workers
As each brought his gifts to bear,
On the task that needed doing
It was done with love and care.
And their number has been many,
Just how many I can’t say,
Some served long and with distinction
Like Fanny Post and Ida Mae.

Normal Sams a part of history,
And he’s with us at this hour,
Of church school he’s the director
Bringing lives to fruitful flower.

I would say a willing worker
Sunday mornings he will stand
At the door and greet the people
And reach out a friendly hand.

Gerald Dawson’s our solicitor
And is treasurer of the group.
Alta and B. R. McDaniel
Work with the younger troop.

Doug McFarland works with young folks
Sometimes taking them on trips,
To be with them and set an example
And to give them helpful tips.

There’s another, Monroe Ashburn
And he labors rather cool,
He’s not one to shirk a duty
Teaches class in Sunday School.

If you want to plan a program,
Have it thorough without fail,
Then you want to see the Killpacks
Give the task to Marion and Dale.

There’s another, Alfred Boswell
Helps the pastor to preside,
And he counsels with the pastor
And he helps him to decide.

And the women are united
And they help as best they can,
And their leader at this writing
Is a woman called Jo Ann.

All are called it has been written,
As God gave his gifts to them,
Mothers have a gift with children,
Others help provide for them.

Some folks have a music talent
And have served along the way,
Paula Smith and Vicki Ashburn
Are the ones we have today.

So there are many people helping
As we move towards the goal,
That to teach mankind the gospel,
Bring salvation to their soul.

Thus we find ourselves together
Walking down the old, old trail,
In the hope that at the finish
We will triumph without fail.

And I’ll have a sense of joy
That all earthly joy’s pale,
When my children bear me witness
In that land beyond the vail.

Poem and Otis Snethen's photograph contributed by great-niece, Conni McDaniel Hall
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