For you have so made us that we long for you, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

When your life is ‘poured out’ on us, you are not spilt, but we are raised up to you.

For, if we call for help and do not know you, could we not mistake some other for you? Yet maybe we should call to you so that we can know you.

And again they shall praise the Lord that seek him,4 for they that seek shall find.

What are you to me? Help me answer that question.

You were within me, Lord, but I was outside myself,’ lost in ambition, careerism and all the human struggles that characterise the human condition.

I would be nothing at all, my God, unless you were in me, or rather, I would not exist unless I were in you. For all that exists comes from you, comes through you, and is in you. So it is, Lord. So it is.

The house of my soul is small: too small for you to enter. Enlarge it. It is a ruin. But I ask you to repair it.

But who can call upon you if they do not know you?