CÆDMON’S HYMN

Cædmon’s Hymn is the earliest surviving Old English Christian hymn. In this way, it is a wellspring of the Christian contemplative tradition. It’s themes echo Psalm 19 and others. The hymn praises Creation and God as Creator who made the skies and also “middengeard” (“middle earth”) for “eorðan bearnum” (“earth’s children”). From the late 7th-century CE, this hymn comes from the Whitby monastery on the northeast shore of North Yorkshire of now England. Whitby was known then as Streoneshalh. Our only source for it and for Cædmon’s life is Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People.

I’m thankful that Abbess Hilda at Whitby monastery recognized Cædmon and invited him in. Cædmon was not someone that everyone in his day would have recognized as having value. He was born into a life where education was not a possibility, and Cædmon could not read. He kept cows at the monastery. I picture Cædmon and know he suffered very cold winters at Streoneshalh, taking care of livestock.

We hear that Cædmon couldn’t make music, and so when the harp was passed around at the end of a meal, he never played it nor sang. He left the table. But one day he had a dream, and in it a nameless, mysterious “someone” (quidam) asked him to “sing” something. Cædmon protested, saying he didn’t know how to sing, but this quidam insisted in his dream, and Cædmon asked, in essence, “About what?” and he was told “Sing about Creation.” So Cædmon sang about Creation and in praise of God the Creator.

The song he sang very much reminds me of my early childhood days of being in a church choir in Decatur, Georgia. We sang in praise of Creation: “This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears, all nature sings and round me rings, the music of the spheres.” I now sing it and sometimes include “Mother’s” in “Mother’s and Father’s world” or “Parents’ world.”

Cædmon had miraculously received the gift of religious song, in a dream, and he became (like Brother Lawrence) widely known to the monks as a faithful and inspiring Christian mystic. According to Bede, Cædmon also composed other religious stories and poems which demonstrated his gift to the monks. But the only surviving one today is the nine-line “Cædmon’s Hymn.”

Because no tape recorders existed in the 7th century, when a melody emerged for it two decades ago (while swinging my children on the playground), I’ve been singing it very often ever since. As meditation. It is calming, and I love its theme of gratitude for Creation, for earth and all earth’s creatures. Every day I’m grateful for the miraculous gift of Creation.

You can listen to me sing it on my YouTube Channel here.

After I sing “Cædmon’s Hymn” in Old English, I sing it in my modern English translation.

Nu sculon herigean      heofonrices Weard,                                           

Meotodes meahte     ond his modgeþanc,                                             

weorc Wuldorfæder,     swa he wundra gehwæs,                     

ece Drihten,     or onstealde.                            

He ærest sceop     eorðan bearnum                              

heofon to hrofe,     halig Scyppend.                                                      

þa middangeard     monncynnes Weard,                                               

ece Drihten,     æfter teode                   

firum foldan,     Frea ælmihtig.

Now let’s sing everyday Mystery,

Maker’s matter and kind mindfulness,

our Parent’s gift of Creation and their Presence.

Our Friend made each wonder’s beginning,

first they shaped skies as a roof

for all the earth’s children.

Then sacred Shaper, present Friend

made the middle-world,

the solid ground

for everyone.

For these gifts we thank the kind Beloved!

This was recorded during an atmospheric river. So you hear the sump pump go off for a few seconds and also at the end you slightly hear some rain pattering down.

My translation makes the language more inclusive while cleaving to the original spirit and the words’ etymological roots. You can see the literal translation below if you wish.

Literal Translation:

Now let us praise the Heaven-Kingdom’s guardian!

The Creator’s power and His thoughts.

The work of the Glory Father, of each wonder,

eternal Lord, who established a beginning.

He first shaped, for earth’s children,

Heaven as roof, holy Maker.

Then middle earth, humanity’s Guardian,

eternal Lord, next prepared

the solid ground, almighty Lord!

Another Translation respecting its spirit and linguistic core and shared May 18, 2025 at a Center for Action and Contemplation (CAC) gathering with James Finley, Brian McLaren, and Pico Iyer:

Now let us praise the Shepherd of heaven’s field,

the Maker’s might and wise mindfulness,

the work of our glorious Ancestor, eternal God,

who authored each wonder’s awesome origin,

who first shaped skies as a roof for all of us

children of the earth’s sacred dust, holy Creator.

Then the Shepherd of humanity, eternal Love,

made middle earth our house and home,

the gift of ground for everyone, we praise you, kind Beloved!

Chant

Chant. We could sing more.

I sing everyday. It’s my name. Carmen means “song or poem.” Even on days of challenging ways, I sing. I’ve always been thankful to live under and with and through a name that means “song or poem.” It’s like my very name reminds me, “Did you sing today?”

Kindness. We could be kind more.

Every true religion has kindness as its core. Same for every true philosophy and wisdom tradition. One way I listen to the Mystery at the heart of the Heart is I sing. While my brain swirls and loops and careens, like winds in March, my song holds my heart against love and I deepen into tenderness, as I sing.

A friend shared with me the Medicine Buddha Chant. Some 1400 years young, it’s as old as Beowulf. And totally otherwise has nothing in common with Grendel’s poem. It’s a prayer for healing from the fakery of duality. It’s a prayer for the dissolving of negative thoughts. It’s a prayer for the healing of past traumas. It’s a prayer for bringing calm energy.

A friend shared it with me. He’s a Buddhist teacher. I sing it often. Through the marsh. Down sidewalks. Folding clothes. Sitting at the computer. And in bed at night, quietly.

I think of the billions of souls and bodies and selves who’ve sung it before me and who sing it now with me and I with them, together. You see it spelled many different ways when transliterated. Here is what I am singing:

“Teyata om bekanze bekanze maha bekanze radza samudgate soha.”

Here is my meditative translation of that, with my friend’s approval:

“It’s like this. Om, sacred tone of the universe, holy body, holy speech, holy mind. Medicine Buddha, King, Supreme Healer. Eliminate and remove the pain of illness of mind and body, eliminate and remove the pain and illness of spiritual suffering, and greatly eliminate and remove any slightest imprints left on my consciousness by disturbing thoughts, Ocean of goodness and wisdom, may my prayer go to the highest, widest, deepest, in sincere intention, blessing, I offer this prayer and let it go out.”

I also made a short translation and a melody for the original and the English version, and I sing both:

“Teyata om bekanze bekanze maha bekanze radza samudgate soha.”

“Sacred Song of the Universe, heal me, heal us | Deeply heal us where our mind-heart wanders from Love.”

I’m posting these, sung, on my YouTube Channel, if you want to listen, sing with silently, or sing along aloud: https://www.youtube.com/@CarmenAcevedoButcherPresence

Remember, you’re singing for yourself, not as a performance.

The way life really is, for yourself, not performance.

Blessings on you, with love.