Celtic Prayers


Psalm 84: 3,5 Genesis 28 11, 12 John 4: 34-36

He Is My King

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 tost,
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 men my lovers in good and ill,
through Him my desire.

 Marjorie Milne of Glastonbury,
Rhymes from a Lindisfarne Monk

Intriguing uses of metaphor here—what an imagination!

Submitted by Dianne Armstrong


Psalm 18.6, 10-11  Malachi  4:2   John 14: 1-6

So Sweet

In the crack of the wind

I trace His feet;

And none in His coming was e’er so fleet

So  sweet.

Often my heart is a heavy stone
mock’d, trodden under

and spat upon,

my way a mirk and I alone,

Then in my heart flames
a climbing star

as His pilgrim feet come flashing far
to bring me where the blessed are.

By Him I am fed, and healed and shriven;
He is the cleft in the dark sky riven
whereby I may leap to the bending heav’n
through the storm.

Marjorie Milne of Glastonbury,  

Rhymes from a Lindisfarne Monk

I love the imagery here.

Submitted by Dianne Armstrong