A TRIP TO : GOD'S COUNTRY THE AMAZING GRACE OF PENNSYLVANIA'S AMISH LAND.

Byline: Susanne Hopkins Daily News Travel Editor

The strong, pure tones of ``Amazing Grace'' rise in the crowded farmhouse room, spill out the open windows and meld with the clip-clop of the horses drawing gray buggies down the lane.

We sing every verse with great fervor and no musical accompaniment, led only by the lyrical voices of a round-faced Amish woman with a radiant smile and her bearded husband with the twinkling eyes.

I look around the large, plain room, which is decorated only with a china closet and three tables at which 36 people sit, and in those shining faces I see a memory in the making. It is one of those extraordinary moments in traveling that will forever define this visit to Pennsylvania's Amish country.

For decades, tourists have journeyed to Lancaster County, Pa., America's oldest and second-largest (after Holmes County, Ohio) Amish settlement. Five million showed up in 1995 (Californians were fifth in number) and most came out of curiosity. They wanted to see the Amish, one of three religious sects known as ``plain people'' (the other two are the River Brethren and the Mennonites) who are stringently faithful to their understanding of biblical teachings.

Old Order Amish shun worldly ways, travel in horse-drawn buggies rather than cars, do without electricity or telephones in their homes and dress plainly. They abhor having their pictures taken (a photo is considered a graven image and therefore a violation of the Ten Commandments).

To visitors from a high-speed, high-tech world, they are intriguing and unreal - and they're destined to remain so to those taking in only the plethora of kitschy, tourist-trap attractions that have sprouted in the once-bucolic central Pennsylvania farmland.

But step out of that arena and onto the back roads of Lancaster County, attend a dinner at an Amish farmstead and you will come away with a keen appreciation for these people and their lifestyle.

The drive

``If you want to see the real Amish country, you have to get off the main roads,'' says Yvonne Miller who, with husband Wayne, runs a farm bed-and-breakfast in Mount Joy, west of Lancaster.

So on a cool spring morning, armed with Miller's written directions for a back-roads tour, I head east from Mount Joy on Route 772. Winding country roads take me past rich plowed earth, rolling green fields, white farmhouses and silos that seem to stretch to the sailor-blue sky. The pastoral vistas are broken up by tidy little towns.

My first stop is Lititz, a delightful village established in 1756 by Moravians, a religious sect from the central region of the former Czechoslovakia. Its Main Street is still lined with 18th-century buildings turned into inviting shops. Just outside the business district sits Linden Hall, America's oldest resident girls' school (1746) and the Moravian Church Square with its church dating to 1787.

The town is also the final resting place of John Sutter, on whose California land gold was found. But its real claim to fame is the big brick building near the railroad tracks on Broad Street - Wilbur Chocolate, which dates to 1884, and its Candy Americana Museum & Store.

You can't watch them make chocolate here (although you can see employees dip chocolates), but you can view a short video detailing the process and wander - amid the heady scent of chocolate - through collections of chocolate pots, molds and tins. And when you leave, you can take with you a ``lucky cocoa bean'' (but don't eat it; it's really bitter).

Sturgis Pretzels is here, as well, but I move on a few miles to the village of Akron and Martin's Pretzel Bakery, where Mennonite women twist 1,600 pounds of dough into 32,000 pretzels a day.

``If you get there before their lunch hour, they might sing for you as they're working. Now, that is really something,'' Miller told me earlier.

Alas, I arrive just after 11 a.m. and they are already eating lunch. No hymns for me. But a trio of women still works in the baking area of the small, brick structure and I watch as they push formed pretzel dough into a cauldron of boiling water and soda, dump the boiled pretzels onto a salted, wooden shovel called a peel and shovel them into a revolving oven. The finished pretzels then drop down a chute and finally into plastic bags - but not before I get to try one. Pretty tasty, too.

Back on Route 772, I pass numerous Amish farms where men plow fields with teams of as many as six horses. Some farms sell quilts, woodwork or homemade food such as shoofly pie (a molasses cakelike pie with crumb topping). Occasionally, there is an honor stand - take preserves, a slice of pie or some other offering from a stand at the side of the road and drop your money in a container.

At the top of Scenic Road off Route 772, I look out on a vista of Amish farms - nary a power line in sight. But there's a more intriguing sight up here on top of the hill - nestled against a tree, there's a white structure that resembles an outhouse. It's a phone shanty; here, the Amish come to make phone calls, which they record in a book in the shanty. Bills are submitted to them each month.

Back on Route 772 East, I pass farms and tempting quilt and wood shops until I come to that place of the suggestive name: Intercourse. In 1754, it was called Cross Keys after a tavern in the town; it was renamed Intercourse in 1814, either after the ``Enter Course'' sign at a local race course or, depending on who's telling the story, because it was the crossroads of the old King's Highway and the Wilmington-Erie Road.

For the first time on this drive, I spot tour buses - lots of them. Most are parked at Kitchen Kettle, a small complex of shops where the biggest drawing card is the Kitchen Kettle Store, which dispenses such things as chow-chow relish.

But I'm enticed by the Old Candle Barn up the street, where I watch Amish workers methodically hand dip candles (white and purple today), then hang them on circular drying racks. Pithy sayings abound on the walls of the place: ``A candle is a bit of string, but dipped and dipped again, it finally gives bright light,'' says one. ``So are our lives as a bit of string. As we daily add joy, service and love, finally they shine bright also.''

The real reason for coming to Intercourse is nearby: The People's Place. Here, in an engrossing documentary shown on three screens, I get a glimpse into the lifestyle of the Amish. Within 20 miles of Intercourse, I learn, there are at least 20 groups of Amish and Mennonites. ``God has called them to (a life of) faith, dedication and community service,'' the narrator says.

My knowledge is further enhanced with a visit to Amish World, a hands-on museum in the People's Place designed for children but with great appeal for adults, as well. You can try your hand at learning Pennsylvania Dutch (Dutch being the misspelled version of Deutsch, meaning German), which the Amish speak at home; read Sadie's Diary, a record of the cycles of a typical Amish woman's life; and gape at the typical dinner menu for a barnraising (115 lemon pies, 500 doughnuts, 16 chickens, three hams and lots more).

Across the way, upstairs in the Country Store, there is the People's Place Quilt Museum, a stellar collection of antique Amish and Mennonite quilts that show another side of the plain people.

Back in the car, just off 340 east near Mentzler Road, I find the Lapp Valley Farm - a good place to stop on what has become a warm afternoon. The Lapps are ``church Amish'' as opposed to ``Old Order Amish''; they drive cars, use electricity - and they make and sell ice cream, which one contented eater terms ``out of this world.''

There's a small quilt shop here, too; if your timing is right, sometimes you can find Grandma Lapp stitching away in the shop. She's not here today, but her quilted goods are.

Refreshed and back on 340 west, I make my last stop at the Weavertown One-Room Schoolhouse between Intercourse and Bird-in-Hand. The school was in use until May 1969; now, it's set up like an Amish school in session, complete with animated figures - and, as in Amish schools today, potatoes baking for lunch on the old pot-bellied stove in the corner.

When I leave, dusk is falling. A farmer drives his team of six horses down the road toward home. And a buggy clatters by.

The dinner

On a peaceful Saturday evening, when it's still light enough for the birds to sing, I arrive at Leroy and Ruthann Esh's house for dinner. They're an Old Order Amish couple who put on dinners a few times each week for travelers. I am to find they feed both the body and the spirit.

Seated at tables neatly set with tablecloths and Corelle dishes, we pass bowls of plentiful homemade food: fruit cocktail, potatoes with butter and parsley, noodles, thick slices of white bread, green beans with ham, applesauce, fried chicken, ham, chocolate and vanilla ice cream, cherry pie and slivers of chocolate cake.

Leroy helps serve, then asks each of us to introduce ourselves. There's a judge from New Orleans, members of a church singles group from Virginia, a group from Kansas - someone, it seems, from every section of the nation.

The judge from New Orleans says grace; then, as we dine, Leroy tells us about himself. The neat white farmhouse has been in his family since 1938, when he was 10, he says, adding that he grows corn and alfalfa; his son David runs the dairy farm across the lane where Leroy and Ruthann spent more than three decades before moving here. He and Ruthann have six children (small for the Amish; three families in the community each have 18 children, he says) and 13 grandchildren.

He asks if we'd like to know more about the Amish. ``Oh, yes,'' we reply eagerly, almost in unison.

And so we learn that the Amish are named for Jacob Amman, a Swiss religious leader who broke from the Mennonites.

``That name, to me, just stuck,'' Leroy says. ``I'd rather just be called Christian.''

The Amish believe in adult baptism, they do not countenance divorce, and they do practice shunning - ex-communicating a member who does not abide by the ordnung, the church's rules. Members of the Old Order Amish, like Leroy and Ruthann, use propane gas for lighting, as well as operating the wringer washer, the stove and refrigerator. They rely on newspapers for news, go to public doctors and use banks. They dress plainly - Ruthann is in a dark green dress with black apron held tight by straight pins, an organdy prayer cap on her head; Leroy wears a turquoise shirt and black pants with a buttoned flap in front and held up by thin leather suspenders).

Which brings up the question of buttons, which are considered fancy (hooks and eyes, straight pins and snaps are preferred). Why can men use buttons and women cannot, a woman asks.

Leroy smiles. ``The men, they slipped,'' he says. But they don't wear buttons on Sunday.

They do not own cars ``because we are not allowed to have driver's licenses and insurance,'' Leroy says. But they can ride in cars; in fact, he says, there are companies who specialize in providing vans to the Amish to take them long distances.

School is a one-room schoolhouse, and children go only to eighth grade. Most go into farming, but since the population of the Amish seems to double every 20 years or so, ``not everyone can farm,'' Leroy says, referring to the farmland that is fast being paved over for malls and attractions. So some are carpenters or work in another line; one of his sons, he says, repairs gas engines.

We ask about church and Leroy willingly answers: Church is held in members' homes, and ministers - there are three and a bishop for each community of about 75 families - are chosen by lot.

Our meal is over. We say another prayer; then, ``Leroy and I would like to sing a little song for you,'' Ruthann says.

In clear, true voices, she and Leroy sing ``My Beautiful Home,'' a lyrical Amish song about heaven that is moving enough to make some of us cry.

Then, at Ruthann's behest, we sing ``Amazing Grace.'' When the last notes have died out, we adjourn to the small room adjacent to the dining room, where a few of us buy some quilted pieces created by Ruthann and her friends. Some of the proceeds will go to pay the medical bills of an ill child in the community, Ruthann says.

``It is a special world,'' muses one woman as we leave. And as I move toward my car, past the just-planted window boxes of bright pink petunias and the beds of stately iris, the air filled with the pungent aroma of plowed earth and the light from the gas lamp shining through the Eshes' window, I have to agree.

This is God's country, and these are a godly people.

On Location

Several Amish country drives, some similar to Yvonne Miller's, which I took, are available via guidebooks or from the Pennsylvania Dutch Convention & Visitors Bureau (501 Greenfield Road, Lancaster; [phone], Ext. 2445). You can get some interesting history and an enjoyable drive with CC Inc.'s Amish Country Auto Tape Tour ($14.95 by mail; P.O. Box 227, Allendale, N.J. 07401) or even hire tour guides (contact the visitors bureau).

At the Mennonite Information Center, you can hire a ``step-on tour guide'' to take you through the Amish farmlands. Cost for the two-hour tours are $8.50 per car, plus a $6 service charge. The center is at 2209 Millstream Road, Lancaster; [phone].

Among the places to stop:

Wilbur Chocolate Candy American Museum & Store, 48 N. Broad St., Lititz; [phone]; 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily except Sundays; free.

Martin's Pretzel Bakery, 1229 Diamond St., Akron; [phone]; 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily except Sundays; free.

The People's Place, Route 340 East, Intercourse; [phone]; 9:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. daily except Sundays; movie or museum, $3.50 adults, $1.75 for children; museum and movie, $6.50 adults, $3.25 children.

Weavertown School, Route 340 East between Bird-in-Hand and Intercourse; [phone]; 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily; $2.50 adults, $1.75 children.

I also found The Amish Experience enlightening (Route 340 between Bird-in-Hand and Intercourse; [phone]; open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sundays; combination ticket for movie and house tour, $9 adults, $6 children).

A 30-minute film, ``Jacob's Choice,'' offers a fictionalized look at a typical Amish young man's dilemma of whether or not to join the church.

A tour of a replica of an Amish country homestead is also available (the homestead is apparently accurate, since it was critiqued by members of the Old Amish Order themselves).

To reserve a dinner with an Old Order Amish family, contact your hotel or inn's host (they usually know a central contact who can tell them when and where the dinners are; the procedure is complicated by the fact that the Amish usually do not have phones on their property).

Dinners are not available every night and different families host them, so the experience can differ. Usually the rate is $12.50 per person, and payment must be in cash.

Another way to capture the flavor of the Amish country is to attend a country auction and/or market, such as the Central Market in Lancaster or the Green Dragon Market outside of Ephrata, northeast of Lancaster. For information, contact the Pennsylvania Dutch visitors bureau.

Here are some things to bear in mind when traveling in Amish country:

Do not take frontal photos of the Amish. They consider this a breach of the Ten Commandments.

Be prepared to pay in cash or with a check for Amish dinners and at some shops. Many do not take credit cards.

Much of Lancaster County is closed on Sunday. Plan accordingly.

Back roads are often unmarked (or pranksters may have turned all the directional signs one way), but don't worry if you get lost. People are happy to help and anyway, you'll eventually reach a main road.

Roads are narrow and winding and you will often fall behind a horse-drawn buggy moving about 10 miles an hour, so allow extra time to reach a destination.

outtakes

As you're roaming Amish country, don't bypass Lancaster. The Pennsylvania city of 55,000, which dates to 1729, is the only city in Lancaster County and - with its largely intact 18th- and 19th-century downtown, handsome, tree-lined streets and the distinction of being the home of President James Buchanan - it has much to offer.

Down at the Central Market on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, for example, you'll find the Amish and others selling everything from fruits and flowers to quilts and crafts. The Romanesque revival-style building in Penn Square has its roots in a market established here by Andrew Hamilton in 1730; it's the nation's oldest publicly owned market.

Hook up with the Historical Lancaster Walking Tour and Information Center (100 S. Queen St.) and take a walking tour of the city's architectural and historical landmarks. You can take a guided tour, but you'll cover more ground on your own armed with a $2 walking-tour booklet.

Don't miss Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Lancaster's oldest congregation, dating to 1730. Designed by Christopher Wren in 1760, it houses astoundingly beautiful stained-glass windows.

You'll also see the nation's oldest tobacco shop, Demuth Tobacco Shop, circa 1770, where, among other tobacco collectibles, you can still buy a clay pipe. And there's the 1852 Fulton Opera House, an opulent theater named after steamboat inventor Robert Fulton.

Take in the Lancaster Newspapers Newseum, a display in three storefronts on South Queen Street of publishing history, complete with old linotype machines, hand presses and even copies of a 1795 edition of Lancaster's first newspaper.

And visit the handsome collection of 18th-century furniture and study of life among the Amish and the Mennonites at Heritage Center Museum of Lancaster County in the Old City Hall at the edge of Penn Square (circa 1795).

Wheatland, James Buchanan's Federal brick mansion on shady, dignified Marietta Avenue, offers an intimate look into the life of our 15th (and only bachelor) president (his tragic love story is recounted here), who retired here after losing the 1860 election to Abraham Lincoln; he served only a single term.

You might want to visit the Hans Herr House, which was built in 1719 and is Lancaster County's oldest building, as well as America's oldest Mennonite meeting house.

If trains are your fancy, drive a few miles south of Lancaster to Strasburg. The Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania is here, and it's a storehouse of railroad delights reigned over by giant locomotives. There's even an old turntable, as well as numerous rail cars awaiting restoration.

Across the road, there's the Strasburg Railroad. The old steam train chugs nine miles to Paradise and back, past bucolic scenes of farmers plowing with teams of horses and cows staring back at you. It's a pleasant ride, which you can take in a vintage parlor car, an open-air observation car or while enjoying a tasty but simple meal in the dining car.

The National Toy Train Museum is here too, featuring 19th- and 20th-century train displays and layouts.

CAPTION(S):

7 Photos, 2 Boxes

Photo: (1--Color) A line of clothes stretchingfrom house to barn is a frequent sight in Pennsylvania's Lancaster County, the second-largest settlement of Amish in America.

(2--Color) Amish clothes are traditionally plain, but are often in deep jewel tones such as green, blue or purple.

(3--Color) In a sight common to Lancaster County's back roads, cows graze by a pond at a farm near Intercourse.

(4--5--Color) Above, Mennonite women make pretzels at Martin's Pretzel Bakery in Akron. Below, gray Amish buggies such as this one regularly clip-clop along Lancaster County roads.

(6) The building at right resembles an outhouse, but it's really a telephone shanty where the Amish, most of whom do not have phones in their homes, make phone calls.

(7) James Buchanan, 15th president of the United States, retired in 1860 to this Federal-style brick mansion in Lancaster, Pa.

Susanne Hopkins/Daily News

Box: (1) On Location (See Text)

(2) outtakes (See Text)