November

The Church

Across the wet November night
The church is bright with candlelight
And waiting evensong
And waiting evensong

A single bell with plaintive strokes
Pleads louder than the stirring oaks
The leafless lanes along
The leafless lanes along

It calls the choirboys from their tea
And villagers, the two or three
Damp down the kitchen fire
Damp down the kitchen fire

Let out the cat, and up the lane
Go paddling through the gentle rain
Of misty Oxfordshire
Of misty Oxfordshire

On country morning sharp and clear
The penitent in faith draw near
And kneeling here below
And kneeling here below

Partake the heavenly banquet spread
Of sacramental wine and bread
And Jesus presence know
And Jesus presence know

And must that plaintive bell in vain
Plead loud along the dripping lane?
And must the building fall?
And must the building fall?

Not while we love the church and live
And of our charity will give
Our much, our more, our all
Our much, our more, our all