As I made my way through the nave, I heard nothing but my footsteps. It was eerily quiet. For a while, I was alone the magnificent cathedral.
Minutes later about fifty folk joined me on the velvet-cushioned wooden stalls of that most intimate area, the quire. People sat in quiet contemplation or spoke in hushed whispers.
The sound of distant voices floated through the cathedral. We stood as a solemn verger clutching his rod led the robed choir to their candlelit stalls. The sombre faced clergy shuffled to their places.The choir rose to its feet, the cynosure of every person present, then burst into song. A huge noise. The concinnity of voices and harmony took my breath away.
Anthems, responses, psalms. Thirty voices swooping and swirling, this way then that. Soft as a whisper then loud as thunder. All thoughts were cleared from my mind as music filled every corner of my very being.
Let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. Let the floods clap their hands: let the hills be joyful together!
Too soon, the choir turned and followed the verger from the quire, disappearing from our sight. For a few moments, we sat in total silence in the hope of catching an echo.
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