Godric

Saint mingles with sinner, and I can see your heart. The heart that longs for purging, seeks purity in the waters of the Wear.

My heart is of a piece with yours. It, too, bleeds the ugly and the beautiful. The ugly comes from me; the beautiful comes from my Father. 

I understand you, you who are so caught in the weakness of your frame, the flesh that holds your soul. I know you, for my soul, too, is bound. 

You deny the name that you were given, saying you are no saint. You shout, you rave, for you know the self within. 

Haste the day when you and I are gone and only He remains, the Christ living in us.