The following 17th century nun’s prayer may give rise to a quiet smile at how real and practical it is and a realization of how little human nature changes over all the centuries.
Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself
that I am growing older and will someday be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking
I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody: helpful, but not bossy.
With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all,
but thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the endless recital of details;
give me wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips on my aches and pains.
They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is
becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of other’s pains,
But help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory,
but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness
when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally, I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet;
I do not want to be a saint – some of them are so hard to live with –
but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places,
and talents in unexpected people.
And give me, oh Lord, the grace to tell them so.
While its origin is obscure, many seem to believe that it represents a 17th century nun’s prayer who might have been experiencing a mid-life crisis! Still others say that while it offers good advice on living well, it doesn’t necessarily sound like it was written in the 17th century. Interestingly, the Inspirational Christian Stories and Poems Archive says that the prayer, from an unnamed Mother Superior, is posted in St. Peter’s Church, St. George, Bermuda, the oldest Anglican Church in the western hemisphere. By Hermine Saunders, Carroll County Times, Apr 13, 2019 at 5:00 am
In the Baroque period (1600 – 1750 approx.) the liturgy used to include what was called the ‘risus paschalis’, the Easter laughter. The Easter homily had to contain a story which would make people laugh, so that the church resounded with joyful laughter. I learned that from Pope Benedict. He thought it beautiful and appropriate that joyful laughter become yet another symbol of Easter. This, of course, is not shallow surface laughter but a deep genuine joy flowing from our faith and hope in the Risen Lord. The following prayer will hardly send you into joyful laughter but may give rise to a quiet smile at how real and practical it is and a realisation of how little human nature changes over all the centuries: A Thought on Sunday
17th Century Nun’s Prayer, from the desk of Fr. Ignatius Waters, CP, Sunday 18th May 2014