JOCELYN CLIFFORD REDPATH
There was in him a crystalline purity that suggested the angelic world; with the often unworthy passions and pettinesses of poor, Fallen human nature he seemed to have nothing in common. Those privileged to claim relationship with him, those to whom he gave his Friendship, the College companions among whom he moved felt this, I think, instinctively.
Yet with it is “otherness”, there was in him nothing aloof, remote, nothing to make one feel ill at ease. His presence brought refreshment and radiated serenity.
“Like a watered garden.” The words of the Prophet seem apt. Yet while one could walk in the garden, and find joy in its beauty & fragrance, one knew that somewhere in its midst there was a walled place of sanctuary, a garden enclosed. Its rarer beauty could be guessed at, but only the Gardener who planted & watered it, had its key.
And because the choice blooms that flourished there came early to perfection, the Gardener plucked them early. – or rather, transplanted them, so that throughout Eternity they might help to make glad the Paradise of God.
(From one of his cousins)
Sister Mary Dominic
Syon Abbey,
South Brent,
Devonshire.