Lord,

it is night.

The night is for stillness.

Let us be still in the presence of God.

It is night after a long day.

What has been done has been done;

what has not been done has not been done;

let it be.

The night is dark.

Let our fears of the darkness,

of the world

and of our own lives

rest in you.

The night is quiet.

Let the quietness of your peace

enfold us,

all dear to us,

and all who have no peace.

The night heralds the dawn.

Let us look expectantly to a new day,

new joys,

new possibilities.

In your name we pray.

Amen.

One evening in 1987, after a quarter of a century’s work, the text for a new prayer book was agreed in New Zealand. Why did it take so long? - because the creation of this book offered wonderful opportunities for reparation and reconciliation with the country’s indigenous community. Even to begin to come to terms with the past’s deep woundings of culture and people, much of it in God’s name, took 25 painfully honest years of collaboration with Aboriginal Christians, lovingly crafting a common language of prayer.

On that evening in 1987, the Commission for Prayer Book Revision had asked their Secretary, the Revd John Williamson, to lead them in prayer one last time. So he scribbled down a prayer – this prayer – and prayed it with them. Yes, it was a night prayer but, in its phrases and cadences, they heard the ending not just of day but of their long years of intense work; they heard the herald not just of dawn but of hope and healing.

All present were very moved. “This belongs in our prayerbook!” cried one. Williamson’s prayer had to be retrieved from the waste bin that night, but has now become beloved to many, perhaps the star of A New Zealand Prayer Book/ He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa. As the skies darken and another day comes to a close, struggle and striving are laid down. Instead… stillness, acceptance, peace and the assurance of a new morning.