A little poem from Oxford

I am no poet and rarely do I ever show anything of this nature to others, but I am in Oxford and wish to share this with some on the other side of the pond. So here it is….

On Regent’s Park

by Thomas White


Ancient paintings hang along the halls,

and the courtyards are so quaint.

Baptist treasures lie within these walls,

but the Hilton, that she ain’t.


Sounds of snoring invade each room,

and the bathroom has no shower.

No televisions here to speak of doom.

No elevators up these towers.


This lack of comfort is what I need,

to show me where my sin lies.

Former luxury has become necessity.

exposed in the land where martyrs died.


I saw Helwys’s work on the Mystery

defending religious liberty. 

He was slain for his Iniquity,

yet often I don’t speak at all.


The martyrs’ monument tells their story

As they truly followed the Savior.

May I speak so boldly of His glory,

rather than seeking any man’s favor.


I take no possession from this city

where the Ox once water crossed

More valuable, is a new fervency

to preach Jesus to the lost. 



1 Comment

  1. Thomas W.,
    Sounds pretty good to me. Poetry just expresses the heart of the writer, and I think you did that well.

Comments are closed.

© 2020 Thomas White

Based on a theme by Anders NorenUp ↑