Scriptures Reworked: By the silent waters I am led

The University of Oxford in the time of Coronavirus is one of silent contemplation, reading and solitary walks along the silent Thames. It is, I imagine, what Oxford may have been like during its formation - filled with religious scholars use to quiet study, rather than tourists teeming the town.

On this trip, the outbreak of Covid-19 closed my workplace, but before I was able to return home, I was able to revisit the still discoveries of my twenties. I strolled the ancient banks of the Thames, disturbing the peace of the mating geese nearby.

Filling my lungs with the Spring rain and magnolia blooms, I marvelled at how calming a field of daffodils or a slow river of life can be. These 'silent waters we are led by' are peaceful. Still. Eternal. While sickness and death fills our streets, life is reborn through the waters, the rain, the amniotic river of life. Here I return. Here I am brought to peace; a reminder that in every ending, there is a new beginning.

A great (x4) grandfather of mine, Rev. John Wesley, walked here too. Once a student of Lincoln College, he gave song waves to scripture, the beginning of the Common Book of Prayer for methodists, all by the silent waters of Oxford.
'She trails a wake of rosy gold,
and doth a lone musician bear
whose melting music leaves a sigh
as tho' the heart of dreams were by' (Oxford Poetry, 1910,p.138)