Tag: creation

O Lord, who at your Eucharist did pray

I’m currently at a conference with the Society For Liturgical Study in Leeds, which is on the theme of ‘Liturgy and Creation’.  In last night’s keynote address, Margaret Daly-Denton offered the challenge to rewrite the hymn “O Thou who at thy Eucharist didst pray” (William Turton 1856-1938) to draw in the unity of all creation, not just Christian unity. This is my attempt to do that!

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O Lord, who at your Eucharist did pray
That all your Church might be for ever one,
Grant us, despite our differences, to say
With hopeful heart and soul, ‘your will be done.’
Oh, may we all one Bread, one Body be,
And round the world be joined in unity.

O Lord, who in your incarnation came
That all creation may, in you, be healed,
Grant us, who call upon your holy name,
To live our lives that you may be revealed.
Oh, may your creatures – human, tame, and wild –
Through Christ our maker now be reconciled.

O Lord, who in your resurrection gave
New life to all and broke the chains of death
Grant us, who you have rescued from the grave
To praise you with our every living breath
May we, with all creation, join as one,
United now with Father, Spirit, Son.

© Rich Clarkson 2026

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Quercus

I entered this into the Manchester Cathedral Poetry Competition (but didn’t win!)

​He sits there on the edge, skin gnarled and worn,
wrapped in a wrinkled overcoat – a size
too big – to keep the wind at bay. His gaze
takes in the water as the passers by
pass by. They come and go, he does not mourn
for those no longer seen by knotted eyes.
He used to set the Autumn sky ablaze
but he cannot remember how, or why.

A crow has the temerity to land.
I watch him as he deftly shrugs it off,
displaying his contempt with an irate
harrumph as the wind picks up, blowing in
a further feathered throng, filling the land-
scape like a fall of soot and snow. They scoff,
cackle and caw, their chorus swells, abates
as his reluctant shade stifles their din.

He stands there quivering, rooted to the spot.
After all these years, unnumbered days
of keeping watch amidst the wild and bleak,
he knows his place in the grand scheme of Things.
He is content now, youth’s longings forgot-
ten, no more need for flamboyant displays
just quiet pride. Leaves rustle, branches creak
as every fibre of his being sings
his maker’s praise.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

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May your voice

May your voice,
That commands galaxies
and orders armies of angels,
speak to me

May your voice,
that paints the stars
and covers the cosmos with colour,
speak to me

May your voice
that inspires volcanoes
and gives rocks a reason to rejoice,
speak to me

May your voice,
that tells tales of time
and speaks of stories that span centuries,
speak to me

May your voice,
that knows the name
of every atom in existence,
speak to me

May your voice,
that evokes every emotion
and inspires every melody ,
that knows every passion, every pain, every prayer in me,
open my eyes and ears
and help me hear the heartbeat of Heaven
as you speak to me

(c) Rich Clarkson 2010

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