Under the British skies
I’ll keep still and seek for You.
There, I’ll unearth the roots
Of the Anglo-Saxon poets and saints
who made me love You even more.
Newman, Chesterton, Tolkien, Lewis –
What’s in their words?
… their illumine words,
…that made me feed on them like rice?
who courageously bragged, at the point of death,
the majesty of his King, my King, my beloved.
“So the Faith was planted: so it must be restored.”
Ah, such a man, such a warrior, such a priest!
And More, who can ever forget
the Knight and the Lord Chancellor?
Whose inspiring martyrdom and faith grab me by the neck,
and choke me to tears?
You allowed me to share with him
a commonality –
that of a public servant –
which marks him as my spiritual father
in doing my ministry.
My Love, let this summer journey be a pilgrimage.
You closed some doors, yet You have opened another one.
You know my heart perfectly well, better than I can fathom.
I offer to you my safety, and I beg of you
to grant me the kindness of strangers.
My life, my vocation is in Your hands.
 Campion’s Brag, from “Saint Edmund Campion, Priest And Martyr,” Evelyn Waugh, 1937