WYCLIFFE

25. MORNING STAR

A short drive from my hometown you can find what was once a lido, a favoured spot for a summer’s outing, and site at one time of a miniature railway. All gone now, but I well recall the occasion when a walk downstream from there uncovered a delightful local secret…

 

Where water meets an aging span

A stroll by Tees I once did plan

Where fondest dog was wont to go

I’d seek out old rail and lost lido

Beyond fall’s roar and river’s foam

I chanced upon a tithe of homes

There midst leaf and sap of birch

Lay a charming country church

To give her name I am not chary

For finer name is none than Mary

Drawn by hope to find a host

I neared to mark her doorway boast

Wait, what name of note is this

Hidden shy in bucolic bliss?

An English son of proudest toast

A name once known from coast to coast

Amazed was I 'neath tree and cliff

To drop right here on John Wycliffe!

Rising Star who hailed the morn

Paved the way for Reform's dawn

To nearby Abbey he would stroll 

Past calf and lamb and new-born foal

Till fateful day, it came to heart

A deed to do ere he must part

To lift the mist of priestly weight

To free God’s Word of Latin freight

John dreamt of psalms we’d read in joy

Be we noble or king, serf or boy

Gainst cruellest wrath and papal spite

He laboured long for what was right

Stared down clerics, Church’s ire

Scorned cool threats of Hades pyre

Cast his bread upon the waters

Blessed with many sons and daughters

For when this John at last was dead

The self-same work his Lollards spread

Our text today still bears his hand

Borne by James through every land.


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