Bromptom Oratory
Up those stone steps I climbHail this joyful day’s returnInto its great shadowed vault I goHail the Pentecostal morn
The reading is from Luke 24Where Christ returns to his loved onesI look at the stone apostlesThink that it’s alright for some
And I wish that I was made of stoneSo that I would not have to seeA beauty impossible to defineA beauty impossible to believe
A beauty impossible to endureThe blood imparted in little sipsThe smell of you still on my handsAs I bring the cup up to my lips
No God up in the skyNo devil beneath the seaCould do the job that you didOf bringing me to my knees
Outside I sit on the stone stepsWith nothing much to doForlorn and exhausted, babyBy the absence of you