The legend of James
Apostle of the lord
And Christ’s appointed
Son of Thunder
Has it that
Upon his Martyrs death
In Jerusalem
St James body
Was taken by angels
And placed in a boat
Which sailed, unmanned
And rudderless
To the Spanish coast
Where it was enveloped
By a massive rock
On a battlefield in Galicia
Upon the cry of
Santiago
The saint appeared
Upon a steed of brilliant
white
St James the greater
Was then transformed
From a fisher of men
To Santiago Matamoros,
St. James the Moor
slayer
One of the twelve
James the greater
Son of Zebedee
Son of Salome
Named by Christ
With his brother John
Sons of thunder
A simple fisherman
Turned to a fisher of
men
By Jesus of Galilee
Witness of the
ascension
Who spread the Gospels
Far and wide
Martyred in Jerusalem
By King Herod Agrippa
I
Feast Day 25th July
In the quiet of the night
When peaceful silence
reigns
I hear an angel
singing
And I wonder if it’s
you
Amidst the chorus of
the dawn
When birds are centre stage
I hear an angel
singing
And I ponder if it’s
you
When the wind is in
the trees
Swirling in the breeze
I hear an angel
singing
And I think it might
be you
When the rain cascades
Down from the heavens
I hear an angel
singing
And I’m sure it must
be you
When the sun shines
brightly
And its warmth is on
my skin
I hear an angel
singing
And I believe it may
be you
At the setting of the
sun
When another day is done
I hear an angel
singing
And I know that it is
you
When you are downcast
And at your darkest
hour
Pray, for within it
There’s immeasurable
power
I was left diminished
When your light went
out
It left a shadow on my
soul
And my heart was left
As an empty vessel
By your absence
You now walk
In heavens light
Surrounded by Gods
love
With angels’ song
On the scented air
As I sit cold and
alone
In the home we shared
A place full of memories
Where once I felt so
at home
Now I wish to be there
no more
Reminded every waking
moment
Of my cruel loss
So, I sit alone and
crave
The moment of my own passing
So, our souls will be reunited
And we can be together
once more
Nanny had unwrapped
The christening gown
Handed down through
The generations
Grandma hand-knitted
The booties
Laced them with
Pure white ribbon
The God parents
Presented a shawl
White as fallen snow
And we stood together
Beside the font
And welcomed him
Into the family of
Christ
