I’ve moved from a traditional Universalist prayerbook’s evening prayer to vespers — a related service, but very different in structure and tone — because it is more meditative, more focused on the night, and night as a foreshadow of death. But considering death then turns us back to life, so the experience isn’t gloomy, but a solace.
This prayer speaks to me as the apex of vespers. That “…shall be heard by us no more” is hopeful: our future lies in God, and generations will live after us. That’s hope.
O blessed God, who neither slumberest nor sleepest; Take us into thy gracious keeping for this night; and make us mindful of that night when the noise of this busy world shall be heard by us no more. O Lord, in whom we trust, help us by thy grace so to live that we may never be afraid to die, and grant that at the last as now our evensong may be: I will lay me down in peace, and sleep, for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. Amen.
It’s not clear who wrote this prayer, or when. It is distinctly Universalist, but has echoes in other sources. It was written no later than 1863 — an age well acquainted with painful memories of the dead — and appeared in James Martineau’s Common Prayer for Christian Worship, so he may be the source.
I find myself wondering if you could say more about how the practice of daily prayer is affecting your sense of spirituality? Your spiritual journey?
Daily prayer is time honored across many traditions. I’ve been experimenting with praying the daily Moravian text each morning (short scriptures plus daily prayer). And find myself comparing this practice at the beginning of the day, to saying grace at the beginning of a meal. And I think for me this has been cultivating a more mindful approach to each day ahead of me. A greater sense of the gift of a new day, a greater sense of peace, a greater sense of gratitude.