I came to tell thee my Name, / I am ‘I AM’ in thy midst . / Turn, turn, and thou shall be turned; / turn and see who sees. / I am ‘I AM,’ that is my Name, / the glory belongs to God alone. / Vain, vain, the glory when confusion / reigns and the glory darkly falls. / The glory belongs to thy King. / I am ‘I AM,’ thy God. ‘I AM / WHO I AM,’ whispering in every heart, / stillness singing, burning, boundless love. / I am ‘I AM,’ calling thee by Name. / I am ‘I AM,’ thy heart my throne, / Light sanctuary within, angels’ chant. / Why, O why dost thou turn away? / Who will hear my song? / Calling, calling, without end, / Prayer without ceasing in every heart, / yearning to be known, loved home. / God calls, gently seeking thee: / Give me back the Name, ‘I AM,’ / and glory will to glory raise thee. / I am ‘I AM:’ light gives thee light. / Hallow my Name aright, O earth, / and heaven receives thee everywhere. / God’s Kingdom comes when ‘I AM’ reigns, / not thee, usurping me, confusing / thyself with thy King. Turn, turn, / turn and see! Nothing created here, / nearer than near: ‘ I AM’ in the midst of thee. / Glory falls short, when ‘I AM’ is confused, / division rules when confusion reigns. / ‘I AM’ is ‘I AM,’ not thee.
Cut off from God, the search begins / everywhere but where ‘I AM’ was lost. / Where was God? The hermit cries. / ‘ I AM’ is always with thee, in thee. / Grace flees, he says, when the sun / goes in, not heeding the clouds overcast. / Who can recognise who always sees, / who can see who always knows? / We all forget God in the midst, / waiting to be recognised and known. / Hearts sing when the secret speaks / in every glance. The eyes dance. / Bright is the sadness that can tell / what we have missed. Up on the hill / above the cell, they call it the devil’s chair. / Not so, the hermit sings. The Stiperstone, / it is God’s Throne, and all the mountain / sings: HALLELU YAH! God’s Name / be hallowed everywhere. His kingdom / comes by hallowing, his will is done / by angel song: HALLELU YAH! / HALLELU YAH!.
Saint Melangell’s Cell, Monastery of Saint Antony and Saint Cuthbert, Stiperstones hills, Shropsire. Written November 2nd 2000, two months before arriving to live in the monastery hermitage 1,273 feet up, below the Stiperstones, on January 10th 2001.