Six. Six. Six, the number of the congregation.
Six, sounding twelve, voice praise and adoration.
Unexpected choir’s fullness wakes from meditation.
Not with them tonight, I attend in admiration.
Great-hearted Charlie ascends the height,
Precious Onyx their partner in flight.
Mellow mezzos mediate their pure delight,
White doves, black-gowned, processing left, right.
Brace of basses, foundation and tower,
Tenacious tenor matches them in power.
Could you not have been there just one hour
To succour Him who is our Passionflower?