Holy Trinity Church and ‘The Ballad Of Angels in the Churchyard ( Poem )

Holy Trinity, ‘The Ballad Of Angels in the Churchyard’

This story was orginally told by Signore Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano, Italy. Who translated the ballad into English is not known. The year was 1880, five years before Holy Trinity was built and consecrated.I have changed some place names and added some scotch and parking signs.

Wally du Temple


At Holy Trinity stayed I

One winter night in prayer

Beside my daddy’s tomb stone

On his birthday I was there


I had some big misgivings

My heart was sore with guilt

I had’t come more than a year

Since tombstone I had built


So brought a bottle to toast him

His favorite ‘Highland Cream’

“Four wings of a bi-plane please

It’ll really make you dream.”






So we drank together heartily

I quaffed eight ounces straight

My mind was twirling mightliy

The night was getting late.


I know not when the sun went down,

So much I sought to pray

I know not when the ‘tswilight’ glow

Floated soft ‘ackwoss’ Pat Bay


And when the fair, round moon arose

Behind the airport hill,

I looked across the churchyard path

And startled, stayed me still


Though low above the sleeping dead

The folded daisies slept,

I was not alone with patient watch

Until the morning crept


Came angels through the churchyard gate,

But in no heavenly guise;

So unadorned, I little thought

They came from ‘Paradise!’



The moon lit up their robes of white;

Framed by the trees full grown.

I watched them, as they paused before

One sunken, moss-grown stone,


And there they silver censers ‘slung,’

As at some saintly shrine.

But never incense burnt on earth

Had perfume so devine.


Between the graves they glided on:

Toward a cross they turned-

A wooden cross that bore no name-

And there the incense burned.


A fading garlend on it hung,

Of wild flowers simply twined;

Whoever lay in that poor grave

Had left some love behind.


And on to others, three or four,

Their noisless steps they bent:

Where’er they stayed, the insense rose;

Then, as they came, on went.



As they moved from graves along,

I thought to forward quest,

And speak with one who walked apart,

A step behind the rest.




Why ‘scomes’ you here slurred I

Holy Trinity to ‘svisit’

The granite tomb stones stark

That ‘leans’ at the Mills’ Roads ‘slimit’.


“Of God’s own saints,” the angel said,

“A few lie buried here;

And He so loves them that to Him

Their very dust is dear!”


“So, while their souls with perfect peace

Are in His presence blest,

He will not of these humble graves

Should some unhonoured rest.






“Each night from heaven He sends us down,

Where’er His flowers are sown-

These bodies that shall one day rise,

All glorious like His own!”


I was silent  for my lips

Could find no word  to’slay’:

I stood entranced, and like to one

Whose soul ‘swent’ far away.


As sun o’r Sidney arose,

They’d gone like mist at dawn.

I said good bye to father there

And stumbled all over the lawn


To West Saanich Road lurched I

As the bottle I placed in sack

By road sign “Thou shalt not park”

Did Someone cut me slack?

My tires were flat!





















About the author : Wally du Temple

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