Church bells ring,
calling the faithful to
worship.
The few respond,
dragging tardy feet over
hallowed ground.
Candles gutter, signalling
life and hope.
The remnant kneel in prayer,
lukewarm of faith and
unwilling in love.
High in the uncertain
firmament
trumpets blast out their
joyous triumph
flambeaux proclaim their
fearsome testament
crownรจd
martyrs sing a noble hymn
albed confessors raise their
prayerful hands
rank on rank of angels
gleefully cavort
whirling before the Throne
as fiery wheels.
The Church’s incense rises
doubtfully;
blown aside by dissent and
worldly affair.
Hardly a hint reaches the
court above,
Hardly a sound of muttered
prayer,
Hardly a rumour of
half-hearted love.
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