Our chalk-wielding resident hoodlums, Sr. Cecilia Maria and Sr. Frances Marie, chose to illustrate a poem of the newly-canonized St. John Henry Newman for their annual sidewalk art feature in the cloister courtyard. “Lead Kindly Light” is an appropriate choice to the honor the new saint and his conversion to Catholicism, but it is also a fitting reflection as the year draws to a close. Read on for Sr. Cecilia Maria’s beautiful reflections on this meaningful text!

As we allowed St. John Henry Newman’s words to take shape under our chalk-wielding fingers, it became clearer and clearer to us that this poem was also a prayer welling up out of our own hearts, here at the end of 2019. Each line seemed to play another string on our memory’s harp, sounding forth a melody woven of all the extraordinary events, surprises, challenges, joys, and sorrows that this year has encompassed for us. Who would have guessed, back at the turn of the year, all through which our Blessed Lord would lead us along this “narrow rugged path,” both as a community and as individuals? And yet, through it all, our hearts cry out all the stronger, “Lead Thou me on!”

At times – indeed, perhaps habitually – the Christian feels the dark and gloom of night encircling her, but this is not the dark of error and sin. No, it is a dark far more terrifying and far more wondrous: the dark night of God’s love wrapped tightly around her, a night inviting her to faith, trust, and utter surrender to His work in her life. This is a night in which the only light is not a visible flame, but a whispered “yes,” a reaching hand grasped tightly by the wounded hand of Christ Who goes before, shrouded from sight yet guiding surely, steadily, homeward on to His Father’s Bosom.

Our hearts, naturally so fearful of such dark, so desirous of control over our lives, might often prefer “the garish day” and flee from the naked realities of faith and surrender to which the Savior invites us. But to hearts ravished by the love of Christ, to souls who have found in God their only true home, these naked realities offer the only way forward through the night toward “the morn” of the “light of everlasting life,” where at last we shall possess Him for whom we so long. The only thing more fearsome than this dark night, we discover, is the prospect of not following Him through it!

And as we give Him our “yes,” whether shouted, whispered, sung, cried, or simply pressed into the path with each trembling step, we receive the grace for each next step. And with each next step, we experience more and more profoundly the unconquerable power of His love, which indeed leads us on, “along the narrow rugged path Thyself hast trod.” Yes, for that is what He came down to earth to do: to lead us through the dark and sorrowful night of this life, up Calvary’s steep slopes, and finally to help us leap up from death into our Father’s waiting arms.

Yes, Amen! Come, Lord Jesus! Lead Thou me on.

The Pillar of the Cloud

by St. John Henry Newman

Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th’encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on.
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

Meantime, along the narrow rugged path,
Thyself hast trod,
Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,
Home to my God.
To rest forever after earthly strife
In the calm light of everlasting life.