In A Hard Place
O Lord, don’t stay away from me!. Come quickly to my rescue! Psalm 22: 19
I am hated. What shall I do, Lord? I am most despised. Look, your sheep around me are torn to pieces and driven away by those robbers on the orders of the hostile Coroticus. Ravening wolves have devoured the flock of the Lord which, in Ireland, was indeed growing splendidly with the greatest care – I cannot count their number.
They have filled their houses with the spoils of dead Christians, they live on plunder. They do not know, the wretches, that what they offer their friends and sons as food is deadly poison, just as Eve did not understand that it was death she gave her husband. So are all that do evil: they work death as their eternal punishment.
Patrick of Ireland’s letter to Coroticus.
I stand in the troughs of life’s hard seas
The Saviour from ill stands up to his knees.
I stand and look at the wrecks of my time
The Father of Time puts his hand in mine.
I stand and behold a heart that is grim
The gentle Spirit puts a smile within.
I kneel before the fates above
And I find the One whose name is Love.
We weep for the hungry without any bread
For children who need to be fed
We weep for mistreated ones, strangers to love
The oppressed by force from above.
We pray against cruelty, hatred and pain
Inhumanity and greed for gain
We pray for hostages, may they go free.
And forgive the sinners, starting with me.