3rd March

Rhymes From a Lindisfarne Monk

Beautiful words fill my mind, as I compose this song for the king. Like the pen of a good writer my tongue is ready with a poem. Psalm 45: 1

He is my king, in my heart he’s hid
He is my joy all joys amid
I am a drop in his ocean lost
His coracle I, on his wide sea tossed
A leaf in his storm.

The book of his praise in my wallet slung
The cloak of his friendship round me flung
Hither and thither about I’m blown
My way an eddy, my rest a stone
And he my fire.

My meat his work and my drink his will
He is my song, my strength, my skill
And all folk my lovers in good and ill
Through him my desire

In the track of the wind I trace his feet
And none of his coming was e’er so fleet
So sweet

Often my heart is a heavy stone
Mocked, trodden under and spat upon
My way a mirk, and I alone, alone

Then in my heart flames a climbing star
As his pilgrim feet come flashing far
To bring me where the blessed are
He is the cleft in the dark sky riven
Whereby I may leap to the bending heaven
Through the storm
Marjorie Milne of Glastonbury

King, you created heaven according to your delight
a place that is safe and pure
its air filled with the songs of angels.
The Celtic Psalter