An Ancient Prayer -- Still Good

One of the places we visited during this summer's walking tour of Cornwall was Saint Wyllow Church in the parish of Lanteglos, which includes the ancient villages of Polruan, Bodinnick, Mixtow, Pont and Lanteglos Highway. Border by the River Fowey (pronounced "Foy") to the east and the Atlantic to the south, it's been settled as far back as the Bronze Age. The name "Lanteglos" is from the old Cornish Nant Eglos, which means "church valley." Many of the surrounding farms date back to the Doomsday records of 1086. Frankly, I don't think that much has changed since then.

The story goes that Saint Wyllow, a Christian hermit, was living nearby in Pont around 596.  Legend has it that he was killed by a relative and beheaded, but he got up and brought his own head to the current location, thus deciding where the church should be built. The building dates mostly from the late fourteenth century.  The tower is 70 feet tall, in four stages and stands on four piers.  The belfry has six bells (described as ‘silver tongued’ by Sir Arthur Quiller Couch).

It's a quiet and peaceful place. The church is old and musty and the gravestones are lichen-covered. But I could tell that it was still a vibrant parish because in the back corner of the nave was a children's corner full of scattered toys and crayons. And there was a sticky-note posted on the bulletin board dated from the previous day that said, "Dear Claudia, I'll be back on Tuesday evening to pick up the leftover dishes. Love, Susan."

As I left, I picked up a xerox copy of something entitled "An Ancient Prayer."

Give me a good digestion, Lord,

And also something to digest.

Give me a healthy body, Lord,

With sense to keep it at its best.

Give me a healthy mind, O Lord,

To keep the good and pure in sight,

Which seeing wrong is not appalled,

But finds a way to set it right.

Give me a mind that is not bored,

That does not whimper, whine or sigh.

Don't let me worry overmuch 

About that fussy thing called "I."

Give me a sense of humor, Lord,

Give me the grace to see a joke,

To get some happiness from life

And pass it on to other folk.

It seems to me that pretty much everything that's important is covered in this prayer, and when I read it now I wonder who wrote it, and how long ago. I think about the centuries of Cornish people who have worshipped in this place, and those who worship here still. I say a prayer for them, and remember these words written by Saint Paul in 1 Corinthians 3:10: "According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it.

Now that I've re-discovered this piece of paper, in the pile of brochures and other papers from that trip, I think I'll begin using it on a daily basis. At least for a while.