As I sit alone in the forest, listening, observing and praying I am brought to remember a poem I memorised some time ago by Lewis Carroll – Solitude. I always thought there was something special about this poem. To sit and ponder in holy Mar, break into a knowledge that God’s presence is all around you and you are aware of Him. Sitting at the top of this hill I feel like it is a good place to pray, looking down to the clearing and further to the gently rippling river or brook. Here I let the days taunts and jeers go, I let the rudeness of children go and give it all to Jesus. I ask for forgiveness for my sin which I am constantly at war with, somedays I win , somedays I feel I lose – but Jesus is always there walking through these moments with me.
I love the stillness of the wood:
I love the music of the rill:
I love to couch in pensive mood
Upon some silent hill.
Scarce heard, beneath yon arching trees,
The silver-crested ripples pass;
And, like a mimic brook, the breeze
Whispers among the grass.
Here from the world I win release,
Nor scorn of men, nor footstep rude,
Break in to mar the holy peace
Of this great solitude.
Ye golden hours of Life’s young spring,
Of innocence, of love of truth!
Bright, beyond all imagining,
Thou fairy-dream of youth!
I’d give all wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of Life’s decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer-day.
I remember a photo I took of this child amongst adults, and how the colour seemed to shine from her, how the trees seemed crystal in appearance, so much that I could not catch this moment totally on a photo, and I think how the world seems to be in the birth pangs waiting for the final Gospel to be given before our Lord will return.