Christmas at All Saints

Beneath the quiet Doncaster sky, Where Woodlands’ winds move soft and slow, All Saints stands watch with patient eye, A steadfast friend through ebb and flow. Its stones recall the

God is a trampoline; But too often we stand on the edge. It may be a bit hard to balance on the frame, But its solidity makes us feel secure,

Where are the crowds, The people waving branches and palms? Church buildings sit in silence, No procession or singing of hosanna, And yet, listen…. Voices in homes lifting praise, Folding