Morning Service

Still
Expectant hush
Sombre
But not sad
We come here

Because we come here
It's what we do
Reverend Hannon is quite young
It's true
We stand
Lift our hymne books
Workship
Martinee idol looks
His wife is terribly nice
But she does not feed him
Lovely flowers

In surplice and cassock dressed
We leave the confines of the vestry
Two by two through nave, and lastly
Into the chancel
Girls and boys
Gentleman and ladies
Pure in voice
Pure in thought and word and deed
Or maybe not
Feel the noise
Invading every part of your soul

Basses build a firm foundation
Tenors, upward elevation
Altos add the walls and ceilings
Trebles fill each room with feeling

"Praise, my soul, the king of heaven
To his feet the tribute bring
Ransorned, healed, restored,
forgiven
Evermore his praises sing

Praise him for his grace and favour
To our fathers in distress
Praise him still the same as ever
Slow to chide and swift to bless

Father-like, he tends and spares us
Well our feeble frame he knows
In his hands he gently bears us
Rescues us from all our foes

Angels, help us to adore him
Ye behold him face to face
Sun and moon, bow down before him
Dwellers all in time and space"