Powersville began with the railroad. In 1853, the Southwestern Railroad laid tracks from Macon to Albany, and a small settlement first called Station #1 came to life. When the first train arrived, crowds of farmers, children, and ladies with parasols gathered to witness the marvel—many for the first time. The settlement was soon renamed for Colonel Virgil Powers, the railroad’s civil engineer.

The railroad transformed the village into a thriving hub. It became a wood and water stop, later chosen as the site of a cotton factory. By the 1880s, Powersville boasted stores, mills, a cotton gin, syrup making, and even a licensed distillery. Known briefly as the “Watermelon Capital of the World,” the community prospered from rich soil that supported cotton, corn, sugar cane, fruit, and grapes. One of its most memorable residents, Lena Barnes—a formerly enslaved woman—sold fruit to passengers aboard passing trains.

In 1878, M. E. Warren, the railroad’s first station agent and postmaster, organized a Congregational church. A frame sanctuary was later sold to the African American community for use as an A.M.E. church, while Warren oversaw construction of a new chapel and Sunday School on Malmason Hill in 1884.

By 1909, the congregation had raised funds through oyster suppers, tacky parties, and Valentine’s events to build the present-day sanctuary at a cost of $1,233. Originally lit by kerosene lamps and heated with a wood stove, the church later added electricity, gas heat, and air conditioning. In 1922, the congregation shifted to Methodist, joining the Methodist Episcopal Church South.

Though Powersville declined after Highway 49 bypassed it in the 1930s and its post office closed in 1954, the church endured. Updates over the years included stained glass memorial windows (1951), carpet and pew cushions (1971), and renovations in 1981. Today, the sanctuary remains an anchor for this small town.

As a longtime member, Mrs. Cooper once said, “Most of us have children who come to church here, and I think the church will be here long after we’re gone. Powersville is the ultimate in small-town living. Everyone knows everyone else.”