To the tomb of Halig
Cuthbert
The Reformers came, full
of wrath and spite.
To the shrine of Halig
Cuthbert
The marauders came, to
steal and to spoil.
Bone rot they thought to
find,
Being darkened in their
minds.
But a body instead they
saw,
Sweet-smelling and whole.
For God had not abandoned
him,
The Lord, Who has hallowed
him.
The Christ-hating band
fell back,
But forward went again.
The Christ-hating mob,
No one could stay nor
stop.
His wealth they robbed,
His leg they broke,
Leaving him forgot and
fornaught--
Or so to them it seemed.
But the fathers are not
the bairns;
Arise O Southron!
But the fathers are not
the bairns;
Go forth O South son!
With your feet or in your
heart,
Run to Durham, to the grace-filled relics
Of our God-bearing Father,
Cuthbert of Lindisfarne,
The holiest saint of
Angle-kin,
And ask him with meekness
and love
And tear after tear
To pray for the stricken
Southland,
Until, uplifted by his
labors,
She becomes the Eden
She has always striven to
be:
The Garden of the Trinity.
Note: ‘Halig’ is Old English for ‘holy’.
Source: http://archangelsbooks.com/proddetail.asp?prod=HTM-A385,
accessed 8 April 2016
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