Faith
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Rule. Dawn. Praise.
This hymn and stained-glass image are inspired by Chapter 13 of the Rule of Our Holy Father Saint Benedict, in which he sets forth the reverent ordering of the Divine Office at Lauds on ordinary days. Rooted in the rhythm of psalmody, canticle, Gospel praise, and litany, the work reflects Saint Benedict’s vision of a… Continue reading
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Holy. Queer. Desire.
For many queer people—especially those of us who are neurodivergent—the search for connection has often unfolded in the margins: in late-night conversations, in coded glances, in apps that both liberate and exhaust us. Our longing has been shaped by secrecy, by rejection, by comparison, and by the fierce hope of finally being seen. This hymn… Continue reading
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A hymn about Grace in humble things — “In quiet parks at break of day” (CM)
The hymn reflects on discovering God’s presence in everyday moments, emphasizing the beauty of ordinary experiences that reveal grace and the gradual manifestation of the Kingdom of God. Continue reading
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Andrew, this is you.
Some love stories are written in grand gestures. Ours has been written in endurance. This Valentine’s Day, I honour fifteen years of partnership with Andrew—and ten years of civil marriage later this year—not because the dates fall now, but because love that has lived this much deserves to be named whenever the heart nudges. Our… Continue reading
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Before Your holy altar
This hymn was written as a prayer of presence and sending — rooted in the Celtic landscape, centered on the Eucharist, and alive with the missionary fire of the saints. It gathers altar, land, and people into one act of worship: Christ present among us, Christ restoring us, Christ sending us forth. May it be… Continue reading
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Stop. Start. Stay.
Not every journey is straight. Some of us live by detours. Some of us measure time in appointments, recoveries, resets, and the quiet courage it takes to begin again. This new hymn was written from within that kind of landscape. It blesses the roundabout and the restart. The traffic light on a rain-washed street when… Continue reading
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Healing. Prayer. Hope.
This hymn was written for World Day of the Sick, a day when many pilgrims gather in Lourdes seeking healing, prayer, and hope. While crowds pray at the grotto and walk in candlelight procession, many of us keep the day in quieter places—hospital wards, dialysis units, and our own homes. For me, it is shaped… Continue reading
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Incense. Whisper. Hope.
This hymn is inspired by Psalm 141, the Church’s ancient evening prayer: “Let my prayer rise before you like incense.” Set in the landscape of Clonmacnoise, it joins the psalmist’s cry to the Shannon’s air and the long vigil of those who prayed on these stones before us. As night gathers, it asks Christ to… Continue reading
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The Gentle Way
He steadies me when storms arise,He keeps my heart at peace;He makes sure meals are never missed,And anxious thoughts release.He watches that my tablets comeAt times they’re meant to be;His quiet care, his gentle ways,Bring daily strength to me.Though beds may stand in separate roomsFor breath and rest to stay,Our love still holds through every… Continue reading
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Hours. Pump. Grace.
As I begin another week of dialysis, I come as I am—carrying tiredness, hope, and whatever this day holds. This hymn was written in the quiet place where machines hum and my heart keeps its own steady rhythm. It reminds me that Christ is here with me: in the care I receive, in the long… Continue reading
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Fall. Grace. Love.
This morning did not unfold as expected. Before Mass began, our celebrant was injured in a fall and taken to hospital. In her absence, the community gathered for Morning Prayer and the Litany. The form of worship changed, but prayer continued. What had been prepared for Eucharist became something simpler and quieter, shaped by attentiveness… Continue reading
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From Morning Light to Setting Sun
Sexagesima (the Second Sunday before Lent) draws our attention to the quiet, faithful work of God—the sowing of the seed, the shaping of hearts, the long patience of love that bears fruit in its time. Before we strive, before we worry, before the dawn itself, God is already at work. This hymn is a prayer… Continue reading
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Grace. Place. Presence.
This hymn grew out of a quiet attentiveness to place—to fields, water, stone, and memory—and to the way faith so often takes root through landscape rather than abstraction. Drawing on the life and legacy of St Mel, it traces a spiritual geography shaped by County Longford and Ardagh: hills walked slowly, wells where prayer lingers,… Continue reading
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Shepherd. Host. High King.
This hymn began with a simple wondering: What if Christ doesn’t only meet us at the table, but walks the whole week with us? Faith is rarely confined to sacred hours. It unfolds in Mondays heavy with responsibility, Wednesdays full of noise, Fridays marked by grief, and Saturdays thick with waiting. This hymn traces the… Continue reading
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Claimed. Accompanied. Sent.
I wrote this hymn slowly, paying attention to water. Not water as an idea, but water as something that moves, waits, gathers, seeps, and returns. Water that has weight and sound and temperature. Water that holds memory. Baptism is often talked about as a moment—something that happens and is done. For me, baptism has always… Continue reading
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Succession. Loss. Continuity.
For more than seventy years, the sixth of February carried a singular weight in the United Kingdom and other Commonwealth realms. As Accession Day, it marked the moment when private loss and public duty first converged, and over time it became a fixed point in the national memory—quietly observed rather than celebrated. I wrote this… Continue reading
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Courage. Gentleness. Wisdom
This hymn grew out of listening rather than certainty. It brings together two women who never met, yet somehow recognise one another across time and land. Saint Agatha, standing her ground in the hard stone world of Rome, and Saint Brigid, whose holiness took root in hearth-fire, field, and care for ordinary people. One knew… Continue reading
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Flour. Aprons. Presence.
For many of us, faith is encountered not first through abstraction or silence, but through texture, rhythm, repetition, and shared work. This poem emerges from the sensory world of baking—warmth, fragrance, patience, and touch—and attends to grace as something embodied and practiced rather than merely believed. Written to be read, prayed, or sung, it traces… Continue reading
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Lines. Rise. Twice.
When the Words Arrive Twice This morning I wrote a poem for a grieving friend. The words came quickly—not rushed, but with that quiet certainty that sometimes accompanies deep care. They felt true. They felt needed. They felt like mine to offer. And yet, before I pressed “publish,” I did what many of us do:… Continue reading
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Held in the humming
A poem expressing the medical treatment I experience. The morning hums its fragile tune,the clinic lights grow bright;on Monday, Wednesday, Friday dawnsI take my steady rite.The lines connect with practiced care,the blood begins its round;a pilgrim held by humming pumps,yet rooted in this ground.Twice yearly comes the Dublin trip,a check that keeps me true;HIV’s a… Continue reading
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