Poplar Church

Submitted by Alan Marsden on Fri, 02/05/2025 - 00:00

I called at the church of All Saints at Poplar, in London’s East End. Not only was it open, unlike its neighbour at Bow, but a warm welcome awaited within. I was greeted by a long-haired woman with a lovely cockney accent sitting behind a desk who offered me a selection of complimentary teas, including Earl Grey, and for which she would take no money. I was pleased to accept, and inspected the building with a mug of my favourite beverage.

The church is not terribly old, postdating even our nineteenth century chapel, being constructed in the 1820s. It is, however, far grander, and would not have embarrassed Nicholas Hawksmoor, the greatest London Church architect after Christopher Wren. Its handsome columns and neat, storeyed spire make it a London landmark.

Within, all was airy and light, with the symmetry and proportionality we might expect from Georgian and early nineteenth-century architecture. Yet I was struck by the floor, which resembled something from the hall of a 1960s primary school. Doubtless, some mid-twentieth century refurb or restoration left its distinctive mark; inevitably, it has aged ill. In contrast, the ceiling is rather elegant, with gold-painted roses and symmetrical mouldings. Looking down, one sees rather naff, modernist floor tiles; looking up, one espies the building’s original glory.

We Christians, in our spiritual lives, are not to look down at the gutters from which we have been rescued, but to look unto the hills from whence comes our help, and to the skies, from which our redemption draws nigh. Where we give our attention reveals much about us, and where we aim our concentration determines the share of joy, peace and hope each one is likely to enjoy.