Hancock Stories: Final Witness
I was invited to the final service of the First Presbyterian Church of Hancock by one of my Writer’s Group members, Alice Prince who is Clerk of Sessions at the church. She handed me an invitation. It was late fall in upstate New York and the Maples were fading green to yellow and Sumac blazed spiky red and Oak tree leaves were rusty and bronze and the acorn harvest was heavy this year, scattered and crunching under foot along the sidewalk as I made the short walk from my house, paralleling the railroad track to the old Presbyterian church on the hill. As I walked I could see the cupola and bell tower through the trees now that the leaves have scattered. I noticed there was no cross nor spire atop and then the white clap board church came into view and the car park was packed. Today was the Closing Witness Service and there would be no more singing and sermons in that venerable old church. For nearly two-hundred years, the Presbyterian Church on the hill near my house tolled...