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Hymns & Choruses

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Of Hymns and Choruses

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,” asked his wife, “what are those?”

“Oh, they are okay. They are sort of like hymns, only differ­ent,” said the farmer.

“Well, what is the difference?” asked his wife.

The farmer said, “Well, it is 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, are in the corn, the CORN, CORN, CORN!!! Oh, Oh, Oooooooh, yes, it’s true, the whole herd is in the awesome corn, yes, it’s true, the whole herd is in the awesome corn, --- weeeell, it’s true, the whole herd is in the awesome corn !!! Alleluia!’ That would be a praise chorus.

A young Christian went to his local church usually, but one weekend, he attended a 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?”

“Oh, they are okay. They are sort of like regular songs, only different,” said the young man.

“Well, what is the difference?” asked his wife.

The young man said, “Well it is 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 Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed. So look to that bright shining day by and by, where all foul corrup­tions of earth are reborn. Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry, and I no longer see those foul cows in the corn. AMEN.

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

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