In just a few short lines, this poem sets two kinds of worship side by side. The opening, "A poor bacon, the church," is odd and a little jarring. Calling the church a "poor bacon" suggests something thin, greasy, and not very nourishing, a meager meal compared with what the speaker really wants. Given the title, "That old-time religion," the poem seems to be gently dismissing organized religion in favor of something found outdoors.
That something is the ridge. "I knew a ridge" sounds plain and personal, as if the speaker is naming an old friend. Then comes the closing image: "We sat together / a great while." The speaker treats the ridge almost like a companion, and the unhurried phrasing matches the long, patient sitting. The mood is calm, quiet, and quietly wry. The poem doesn't argue or preach; it simply suggests that real devotion might look like time spent in one place, paying attention to the land.