Sister Alma Rose’s Morning Prayer: Carry Me to This Enchanted Shore

Nebraska Sunrise (Deb Kirwan)


Now before the morning light appears;

now in calm anticipation;

now this sacred, still, unmeasured

interval I dedicate to thee.


Wherever are revived the dying,

comforted the grieving, given

hope the flagging spirits, raised

the fallen, fed the hungry souls;


Wherever life begins again,

where nothing is impossible,

and where the very sun is robed

and vested; where the angels from

their rest arise;


Where all are baptized in the freshet, pure emerging,

venom banished in ignominy and washed away;

Where common things become a garden,

radiant with color, light, and form;


Where light is born;


Where all the universe declares benevolent intent;

Where music out of silence grows,

where all from nothing comes and

all that ends begins:


Carry me, O Father-Mother God,

to this enchanted shore, that I as well may be

reborn and dwell in innocence again.


Thine angels send among

the suffering. Where they are fragile,

make them strong; where broken,

make them sound; their pain assuage,

evaporate, distill. Thine all-annealing love

bestow, and where it finds a cold, unyielding

heart, thy shining grace impart, to melt

the very stones that guard the hermit’s

door, that light may enter and embrace.


God, where glory lives, accept

our weary selves, complete us. Open

our insensate eyes, that we might recognize

the riches we possess, and the provision

we require – before us now, already ours;

all beauty at our feet, all sound by heaven’s

choir made crystalline; all that is lovely, seen,

recalled; and all abundance – everything

we need and more, beyond the sum

of ancient dreams and unfulfilled desires.


—from Unfamiliar Territory, by Mary Campbell,