Damp Chester mists

Anselm in his dark cell prays for the light
Of God to guide him in his nights and days

Of care and world, with grace to seek his face
Oh, bold and timid, anxious, honest monk

Stranded briefly, cold, on the River Dee
In the damp Chester mists, I crossed your path

In this raw place, and in your Church at Bec
The fool in your heart … said there is no God,

And you forced your thought to conceive of him
As the singular One above all else

That cannot but exist, must, must exist
Must lift you from your sinful, earthly gaze

Though hidden and remote, he must be there
His absence an illusion due to lust

Oh dark-light world, in the sight of beauty
The smiling embrace in Christ of brothers

Confounds the flesh with the joy of spirit