Here is a poem I just wrote. In case it is not clear from the poem (and it probably is not), I love Anglicans who worship at the early service!
Eight O'Clock Anglicans
©2009, Paul Erlandson
Eight o'clock Anglicans rise before dawn;
Early to eucharist their hearts are drawn.
At seven-fifty they cross the church lawn.
One hour later, they've worshipped and gone.
Weekly they ratify God's Ten Commands:
Stiff at attention, each worshipper stands.
Eight o'clock Anglicans don't raise their hands,
And haven't since when they were young Confirmands.
Eight o'clock Anglicans don't sing too much,
Chant the Venite, or any else such
(Preferring the plain spoken word, like the Dutch).
And then, at the Peace, there is hardly a touch.
When the Dismissal comes, there is no laughter
Rising from reverent kneeler to rafter.
No parish activity's scheduled for after,
So home goes each eight o'clock son and each daughter.
Eight o'clock Anglicans, sons of the morning,
Early the temple of God are adorning.
Eight O'Clock Anglicans
©2009, Paul Erlandson
Eight o'clock Anglicans rise before dawn;
Early to eucharist their hearts are drawn.
At seven-fifty they cross the church lawn.
One hour later, they've worshipped and gone.
Weekly they ratify God's Ten Commands:
Stiff at attention, each worshipper stands.
Eight o'clock Anglicans don't raise their hands,
And haven't since when they were young Confirmands.
Eight o'clock Anglicans don't sing too much,
Chant the Venite, or any else such
(Preferring the plain spoken word, like the Dutch).
And then, at the Peace, there is hardly a touch.
When the Dismissal comes, there is no laughter
Rising from reverent kneeler to rafter.
No parish activity's scheduled for after,
So home goes each eight o'clock son and each daughter.
Eight o'clock Anglicans, sons of the morning,
Early the temple of God are adorning.
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