Steph and Matthew Neville, who live in a Christian community in the centre of Birmingham, have a bought a house nearby in order to give it to homeless refugees.
Against better judgement, tawdry is the word that comes to mind
At least to mine – yes, I am that little Lord Snooty.
Faux leather chairs, I note, strictly for watching Strictly
Bathroom suite ‘well used’, acquainted fully with the daily grind.
Of higher things – God, even (Eric) Clapton – there is no outward sign
In shapeless fleece and jeans, less stylish than Primani
Guileless without redress, the new owners are at home already.
Except they shan’t be living there, where they’ve bought ’s for others
And so their love of Jesus Christ is shown in bricks and mortar
Here refugees and homeless, too, they treat them all as brothers
Unreserved, giving boundlessly to those who’ve been through torture.
I know, I know I ought to find this gift of theirs sublime
Yet in their generosity, you see, for me there’s still no rhyme.