Welcome to Wycliffe College

 

This love calls softly, like a dove at dusk

And yet its character has such great power,

With all the promise of a tiger spring.

And I, a pilgrim, hear and am afraid;

And yet in some deep place I never knew,

I know where rain comes and the smell of spring

Without perhaps clear focus of it all …

And suddenly, awareness, very still

As if this son of Adam ragged sat

Beside his grass-stained, tattered little tent

And joy walked in, with its own character,

As if my God came with the morning light

And sat to speak with me and call me friend.

So much with me and I so very small;

With poverty of stable and of cross.

I gave him room-space and I was not lost.

Completely His, yet uninvaded I

Was water, birdsong, flight and prayer and sigh.

Each in-breath, Lord Christ in; each out and then

His mercy settled on my sinner’s heart.

And then, for one brief moment fire and song

My clay, my poverty and I belong.