© Bryce Merkl. All rights reserved.
St. Aldate’s, Oxford
This sacred day, the bells still ring Among the dreaming city spires, And people gather yet to sing With everything that praise inspires. Hands lifted high, knees bent in awe, The music once again resounds; The nave is shaken to the stones Down to the crypt, the rattling bones. Next, creeds, and then, to prayer withdraw In quiet mood while light surrounds, Each ray transforming through the stain Of every brilliant coloured pane. Then bread and wine, with love are served, And gifts are shared for those with less; The sacraments are all observed— In richer ways, none could express. True worship brought before the King Is that to which this church aspires; Such beauty should with wonder draw Us all to barefoot-holy grounds. Their faith—if paint, then bolder tones, If music, then a deeper strain, If drama, then most unreserved, If dance, surpassing all finesse.