A Hertfordshire village church
Tucked away
What a treasure when you come across it!
With a timber turret built as a bellcot by the Victorians
A beautiful red brick Tudor porch, hiding the original
Norman door
A Jacobean bust,
with Bible verses for the good of the soul
And a rare mosaic pavement from the very early fourteenth century
Come on. You lot have survived worse things:
Black Death, Plague and two World wars,
The Reformation (Cromwell clipped the wings
Of angels in the roof); and there are scars
On ancient faces, marble noses cropped
And poppy heads beheaded like the King;
And modern vandals too. But you've not stopped
Your ageless plain ability to sing
Of something quite indifferent to the now;
Built with a trusting love and potent faith
You stand there still in testament to how
Beauty is not a wafted fleeting wraith,
A ghost which chance can whimsically destroy;
You can be filled, if not by faith, with joy.
Anon,
June 2020
‘In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness
and trust shall be your strength’ Isaiah 30:15
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