And blessed are the ones we overlook;
The faithful servers on the coffee rota,
The ones who hold no candle, bell, or book
But keep the books and tally up the quota,
The gentle souls who come to ‘do the flowers,’
The quiet ones who organize the fete,
Church sitters who give up their weekday hours,
Doorkeepers who may open heaven’s gate.
God knows the depths that often go unspoken
Amongst the shy, the quiet, and the kind,
Or the slow healing of a heart long broken,
Placing each flower so for a year’s mind.
Invisible on earth, without a voice,
In heaven their angels glory and rejoice.
--Malcolm Guite, (1957- ) Anglican priest, poet, singer-songwriter, and philosopher
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