ELY Cathedral, high rise above the Fen, With power to raise our senses, above the realms of men,

ELY Cathedral, high rise above the Fen,

With power to raise our senses, above the realms of men,

We thank our wise ancestors for their vision, and the skill,

To build a great cathedral, on so small a hill.

They found a firm foundation, in Fenland’s soggy meres,

And organised a workforce to toil for years and years.

They did not have computers, to gauge the structural strains,

Nor hard hats to protect them,

They used their brawn and brains.

The heavy beams and blocks of stone,

Were carved and heaved by hand.

Blisters and cracked fingers?

Maybe broken bones,

They did not leave a record of the blood on these old stones.

The Hand of God in manifest in Ely’s towering walls,

Now modern hands, with ancient skills,

Ensure they do not fall.

They mend and meld from gravel to roof,

So all is sound and weather proof.

Indoors, all is beauty, thanks to loving care,

Flowers, and showy linen, and polish everywhere.

We love you, holy haven,

And give thanks to all who care,

That we may pause and ponder,

In peace, and quiet prayer.

ANN ALEXANDER

Silver Street

Burwell