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Brompton Oratory

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Up those stone steps I climb

Hail this joyful day's return

Into its great shadowed vault I go

Hail the Pentecostal morn





The reading is from Luke 24

Where Christ returns to his loved ones

I look at the stone apostles

Think that it's alright for some





And I wish that I was made of stone

So that I would not have to see

A beauty impossible to define

A beauty impossible to believe





A beauty impossible to endure

The blood imparted in little sips

The smell of you still on my hands

As I bring the cup up to my lips





No God up in the sky

No devil beneath the sea

Could do the job that you did, baby

Of bringing me to my knees





Outside I sit on the stone steps

With nothing much to do

Forlorn and exhausted, baby

By the absence of you