NeuroDivine

There are times when something written in stillness returns, not changed in its substance, but deepened—given a voice it did not yet have.

“Bless the Lord, O all my being” began as a quiet response to Psalm 103: words shaped by mercy remembered, by frailty held, by the steady kindness of God that outlasts our fleeting days. As I wrote, the landscape came with it—bogland at dawn, the cry of the curlew, the long line of shore where sea and land meet without haste. The text found its form there, but it remained, for a time, unsung.

Now it has been given a melody.

My friend Thurlow Weed has composed a tune, Cineálacha (87.87.D), and in doing so has offered the text something I could not give it alone. The music does not overwhelm or draw attention to itself; rather, it listens. It allows the words to breathe, to rise and fall with a natural cadence, as though they had always been waiting for this particular shape of sound.

To receive one’s own words back in this way is a quiet and humbling grace.

It is a reminder, too, that hymnody belongs not to the writer alone. A text is only ever part of the whole. It waits for a tune, for voices, for a gathered people—or even a single voice—to carry it into prayer. What begins in solitude is completed in communion.

I am deeply grateful to Thurlow for this gift of music, and for the care, attentiveness, and generosity it represents.

My hope is that, now joined together, this hymn may find its way into use: in parish worship, in smaller gatherings, or in the quieter offices of daily prayer. Wherever it is sung, may it serve its simple purpose—to help us remember, and to give thanks.

To read the original hymn and its reflection: click here.

Permission for use:

The text of this hymn may be used freely for local parish worship with attribution. Please contact me for other uses. The tune Cineálacha is used here by kind permission of Thurlow Weed.

With thanks.