ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, July 31, 1994                   TAG: 9408040005
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-3   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY  
SOURCE: By SALLY HARRIS SPECIAL TO THE ROANOKE TIMES & WORLD-NEWS
DATELINE: DUBLIN                                LENGTH: Long


TIES THAT BIND THROUGH THE CENTURIES

If you stand outside the New Dublin Presbyterian Church when there is no crowd, the leaves rustling on the giant maple trees seem to be telling you stories from the history of the place.

``It only hits you periodically that the church is older than the country, ... there's a real sense of almost awe,'' said the Rev. Ben Trawick, pastor of the church that is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, in the New River Valley.

The original congregation of 45 requested a minister in 1769. The church building was no more than a dream then, and the worshipers' conversations probably were about such things as those infernal British tea taxes.

Twelve years later in 1781, the colonies had gained their independence and New Dublin Presbyterian Church erected its first building in a grove of oak trees about a half mile from the present New River Valley Fairgrounds. Here, generations of worshipers have sung praises, attended church socials and buried their loved ones.

There were sad days, like the one in 1875 when when the congregation mourned the death of Derrill H. Jones. He was only 26, and had served in the Confederate Army. His body lies in the cemetery adjoining the church.

There were happier days, like the one in 1864 when church member Moses, a slave, rejoiced to hear he was free.

And like July 24, 1994, when the grounds of New Dublin Presbyterian Church were filled with people celebrating 225 years, taking ``a look forward as well as a look back,'' Trawick said.

According to New Dublin's oldest attending member, Sam Bell, 93, the first congregation was established by a traveling preacher; church was held in people's homes.

Land for the church was donated in 1770 by Col. Joseph Cloyd, one of Bell's ancestors. Cloyd's fiancee, who lived in Rockbridge County, had told him she would come to this wilderness country only if he built a Presbyterian Church where she could worship. When he donated the land, Joseph Cloyd got his wife. But it took about 11 years to build the church, Trawick said. The men in those times had revolution on their minds, and war was fast approaching.

In that first church, Trawick said, ``the pews were split logs with no backs, so hopefully the sermons weren't too long.''

In 1840 the second New Dublin church building was erected on the site of the first. Square and made of brick, the church had separate entrances for men and women, who sat on opposite sides of the sanctuary. (Even in the third building used today, a divider separates the left and right pews. However, men and women can now sit together.)

During the Civil War in the 1860s, the church became a Confederate hospital. That was probably the beginning of the cemetery in which 17 Civil War soldiers are buried.

In 1875, the present sanctuary of the New Dublin church was built on the old foundation, largely of materials from the old church. A white stucco was added over the brick and two coal stoves provided heat. Since that time, the coal stoves have been replaced by a furnace and several additions have made room for Sunday School classes, a library and other uses.

New Dublin Presbyterians this year celebrated many of the church's historical moments during services and displayed a collection of artifacts that included old Sunday school attendance records and photos.

The highlight of the remembrance was July 24, when a special service was conducted by four ministers: the Rev. John Sadler, who became the first full-time pastor in 1964 after the congregation split from the Dublin and Belspring Presbyterian churches, and served until 1970; the Rev. James Watson (1972-1973); the Rev. John Kearfott Boyd (1974-1992); and Trawick.

Sadler told the overflow congregation that remembering ``can give us courage for the present and hope for the future.''

When Sadler arrived straight out of ministerial school, the church's oldest member, 85-year-old Ada Guthrie, told him, ``If I can accept you as my preacher, and I do, there's no reason anyone else can't.''

Sam Bell remembered that his family came to church in ``a carriage with two horses and a buggy. And lots of times, when I got 10 or 12 years old, I would just run across'' to the church (11/2 miles).

When he was a child, Bell said, his father ``took me to the `amen corner' to keep me away from the Currie boys'' - sons of another minister, the Rev. Daniel Currie - because they always created a disturbance when together.

Currie left the church in 1912. Bell is still active in it. He planted white lilies at the front door a few years ago, and this year they bloomed just in time for the 225th anniversary celebration.

Standing near the lilies was one of the church's younger members, Joe Guthrie, whose great-great-great-grandfather bought a farm here in 1795. His family (Ada was his great aunt) has a long attachment to the church.

Guthrie said all members of the congregation, young and old, ``have a great love for the church and the family that we really feel we have here. Nobody leaves here right after church even if we aren't eating. You stay around and shake hands and find out how everybody's cornfields are doing.''

The congregants have shown their caring spirit by helping with community efforts such as Our Daily Bread and the Free Clinic, Trawick said. The congregation has raised $400 toward its $1,000 goal to dig wells in a developing country.

Congregants of every age mingled easily as they poured out of the church and toward the nearly 70 feet of tables laden with homemade foods.

The congregation installed a plaque and dedicated a library to ``both honor the heritage that is so important to this congregation and at the same time try to put into perspective that the celebration is a capstone for the past, but a cornerstone for the future, a beginning for the next 225 years,'' Trawick said.

As the final strains of ``Blest Be the Tie That Binds'' faded, the congregation's talk and laughter muffled the sounds of the rustling leaves. But perhaps the leaves were listening silently - and gathering stories to tell at the church's 275th anniversary.

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Memo: ***CORRECTION***

by CNB