While my body silent lies,
May Thy power keep vigil;
Let my sleep in Thy presence
Be like the rising incense.
(St Ephraim the Syrian).
What can we offer?
The day is proud in its confidence;
night is helpless.
If they come, our shelters are weak,
our bags packed, our feet ready –
yet the shadow shelters too, here and in exile,
and the silent vigil is constant.
From threats which stalk without, within, we are kept:
though we are as mud-drops in an ocean,
the ocean protects.
Unknown the direction, unseen the foes;
yet we drift – tonight, tomorrow – in You,
sea of mercy, protecting light,
everything when nothing.
Tonight, hear our prayer.
The Consolations of Writing 