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Bolnhurst

Borough of BedfordFormer civil parishes in BedfordshireVillages in Bedfordshire
Bolnhurst St Dunstans Church
Bolnhurst St Dunstans Church

Bolnhurst is a small village and former civil parish, now in the parish of Bolnhurst and Keysoe, in the Borough of Bedford, Bedfordshire, England. The village is about 6 miles (9.7 km) north-northeast of Bedford town centre and about 6 miles (10 km) west of St Neots. In 1931 the parish had a population of 162.

Excerpt from the Wikipedia article Bolnhurst (License: CC BY-SA 3.0, Authors, Images).

Bolnhurst
School Lane,

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Geographical coordinates (GPS)

Latitude Longitude
N 52.22481 ° E -0.41151 °
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Address

School Lane

School Lane
MK44 2EN , Bolnhurst and Keysoe
England, United Kingdom
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Bolnhurst St Dunstans Church
Bolnhurst St Dunstans Church
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Nearby Places

Church of St Denys, Colmworth
Church of St Denys, Colmworth

Church of St Denys is a Grade I listed church in Colmworth, Bedfordshire, England. It became a listed building on 13 July 1964.The four stage west tower is topped by an octagonal spire with lucarnes and is supported by diagonal buttresses. There is a ring of six bells with the earliest two dated 1635. The steel frame was made in 1984.To the left of the altar is an alabaster and black marble monument to Sir William Dyer erected in 1641 by his wife, Katherine Doyley Dyer (d. 1654). It has the following verse inscription: If a large hart, joined with a noble minde Shewing true worth unto all good inclin’d If faith in friendship, justice unto all, Leave such a memory as we may call Happy, thine is; then pious marble keepe His just fame waking, though his lov’d dust sleepe. And though death can devoure all that hath breath, And monuments them selves have had a death, Nature shan’t suffer this, to ruinate, Nor time demolish’t, nor an envious fate, Rais’d by a just hand, not vain glorious pride, Who’d be concealed, wer’t modesty to hide Such an affection did so long survive The object of ’t; yet lov’d it as alive. And this greate blessing to his name doth give To make it by his tombe, and issue live. My dearest dust, could not thy hasty day Afford thy drowsy patience leave to stay One hour longer, so that we might either Have sat up or gone to bed together? But since thy finished labour hath possessed Thy weary limbs with early rest, Enjoy it sweetly, and thy widow bride Shall soon repose her by thy slumbering side, Whose business now is only to prepare My nightly dress and call to prayer. Mine eyes wax heavy, and the day grows old, The dew falls thick, my blood grows cold, Draw, draw the closed curtains and make room, My dear, my dearest dust, I come, I come.