You were going to evensong.
I wanted to go along
But felt shy
To ask (I don’t know why).

An agnostic sitting in a pew
Next to you,
That wouldn’t do!
Though I know
That I wouldn’t be the first sceptic to attend
And pretend
Belief.

Our life here is brief
And religion softens grief
For the believer knows
That he goes
To a place
Where God’s grace
As sweet water does fall
On all.

In the singing of hymns
We forget our sins
And cough due to the dust
From ancient books,
While God looks
Down
With a frown
For he knows our lust …

Perhaps I will
Next time go along
To evensong
And perchance find a still
Place where God’s grace
Does fall
On all.
Though it may not be so
Nonetheless I shall go
Along
To evensong.