Christ be with me, Christ within me

Christ behind me, Christ before me

Christ beside me, Christ to win me

Christ to comfort and restore me

Christ above me, Christ beneath me

Christ in quiet, Christ in danger

Christ in hearts of all that love me

Christ in mouth of friend and stranger

These words are part of a longer prayer often known as the Lorica (Breastplate) of St Patrick, whom we remember today. They weave in and out, encircling the good times and bad, binding together the already-beloved ones with those still waiting to be welcomed. Threading under and over, rotating around and about, these Celtic words create, as it were, a secure and trusty Celtic knot with no visible beginning or end and an unmissable cross at its heart.

Patrick’s words are as much a declaration as a petition. He knows that Christ is in and with him, come what may. He’s also reminding himself to look beyond himself and find Christ in the face of the other. This mystery of hospitality is spelt out in other similarly ancient Celtic words which, having described the blessing brought to a home by a welcomed stranger, end with a lark singing: “Often, often, often goes the Christ in the stranger’s guise.” 

The conviction we find in Patrick’s prayer about the inescapable closeness of Christ might remind us of St Paul’s defiant words about 400 years earlier. Writing to a tiny persecuted Christian community in Rome, Paul had been unequivocal: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8.39). That same quiet strength and assurance also flows out of John Rutter’s setting of Patrick’s prayer.