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The Anchorite

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Imagine being locked in a cold dark room for a day. It would be awful. Now imagine a week – unbearable. Now take it a step further – you’re walled in, no way out until you escape through death.

That’s exactly what Anchorites volunteered (yes volunteered!) to do. They were walled up in a small room in a church for the rest of their life. The idea was that the hermit existence would bring them close to God and as a result the village or town would be protected from pestilence and disease. Every town wanted an Anchorite, and there was no shortage of volunteers. It was an honour. In some cases the son of the local Lord would decide to give up everything and allow himself to be walled up.

If you want to see a church which had an Anchorite there is one in Chester-le-Street and this is where the story behind the song came from. This particular anchorite was walled up for forty years before he died. When they found him he was lying in a shallow grave which he had dug himself out of the dirt in his cell. He was reported to have a blissful smile on his face when they found him. He had made peace with his God.

Some people see this as a depressing song, but it’s not; it’s full of hope. The Anchorites may have been misguided on the basis of current thinking, but at the time they were willingly sacrificing their own earthly pleasures for the greater good and personal spiritual enlightenment. Having said that ….

The minister was preaching and his voice was grave
He said our Anchorite died today
The congregation gave a groan
As under God's gaze they were alone
Another Anchorite must be found
To bless the crops and bless the ground
And keep us free of disease
The congregation fell onto their knees

Up stood a man who was proud and tall
"You can block me me up behind the wall
I'll tread the steps to the tower's height
I'll bare my breast to God's raw might"
All eyes looked up to see who spoke
As the candles spluttered dirty smoke
They saw the blacksmith standing there
Proud and strong with long black hair

They gave him three weeks to prepare
He shaved his head of all his hair
He gave his worldly goods away
The minister taught him how to pray
He climbed the steps - went in the cell
All he took with him was a calling bell
They laid the bricks and walled him in
Leaving a hole to pass food to him

Days passed, then months, then years
The villagers forgot their fears
The children grew strong and their crops grew tall
The Anchorite stayed behind the wall
They couldn't see him but they knew
The torment he was going through
All alone in a cold dark cell
All he had with him was a calling bell

He couldn't read he couldn't write
But he contemplated day and night
He thought of God, he thought of man
Then a blessed miracle began
Because of his undemanding sacrifice
He'd pleased his God as well he might
His soul grew and filled with light
The cell which once was black as night

One day there was no calling bell
The minister knew all was not well
Three days passed and still no sound
They knocked down the wall and inside found
The Anchorite upon his back
In a shallow grave covered by a sack
He'd dug the hole and climbed right in
His work was done, he'd absolved their sins