The bells of St. Ennodius ring,
Announcing Advent’s here again
And choristers inside do sing
Sheltered from the winter rain
And through the stained-glass window gleam
The saints of old in endless stream.
The holly in the Bishop’s hedge
And branches from the Cloister’s yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, door and rail and pew,
So that the city folk can say
“Cathedral’s nice this Christmas Day.”
The “Nine Bells” public house is bright,
The fruit machine is paying out,
The Christmas lights are quite a sight
Along the City’s streets at night,
And bunting round the City Hall
Says ‘Merry Xmas to you all’.
And all the shops this Advent-tide
Have Father Christmas in their hall,
And harried parents lengthen stride
To get their children home at all,
And as the wintry clouds go by
The sun departs the frozen sky.
And from the old Cathedral School,
As children stream out to the cars,
The teachers celebrate the Yule
By heading to the “Nine Bell’s” bars.
And some have friends who choose to dwell
Safe in the Wenchoster Hotel.
And is it true, and is it true,
This birthing tale we celebrate,
Seen in a church’s stained-glass hue,
A Baby helpless and yet great?
The Maker of the earth and sea
Became a human being for me?
And is it true? For if it be,
No matter how well meant the gift,
We lose the Sacred mystery
Beneath the great commercial drift
Of buying cards and this year’s toy,
Girls get dolls and guns for boy.
And so through all the Christmas cheer,
The endless carol service round,
We keep this holy time of year
So that the inner truth is found,
Of how the greatest gift is made,
And all our lifetime’s debts are paid.
Thanks to The Pharisaios Journal - Advent issue
Christmas : John Betjeman