Holy Thursday by Alice Meynell — Read

'TWAS on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,

Came children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green;

Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,

Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.

O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!

Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own;

The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,

Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now, like a mighty wind, they raise to heaven the voice of song, / Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among; / Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.

Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.