A Prayer for a Misty Sunday

I am resting in after two days of conference, enjoying a Sabbath rest after the work. There is a heavy mist, the first one of autumn, over the mountains and I’ve been paging through a book of old prayers. This is a prayer from the Carmina Gadelica, an amazing collection of the age old prayers and songs passed down through generations in Scotland, Ireland and Wales. I find a quiet glory in them, a color and grace that stays with me. I thought this one was a good one to contemplate over the weekend.

Behold the Lightener of the stars
On the crests of the clouds,
And the choralists of the sky
Lauding Him.

Coming down with acclaim
From the Father above,
Harp and lyre of song
Sounding to Him.

Christ, Thou refuge of my love,
Why should not I raise Thy fame!
Angels and saints melodious
Singing to Thee.

Thou Son of the Mary of graces,
Of exceeding white purity of beauty,
Joy were it to me to be in the fields
Of Thy riches.

O Christ my beloved,
O Christ of the Holy Blood,
By day and by night
I praise Thee.


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