Brompton Oratory

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 And 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