HE had a beautiful icon painted for each of them, Blessed Augustine on the south side and Blessed Nicholas on the north. To this he added lights, candles or clear oil-burning lamps; he would kindle them by night before the sacred image of the Patron of his household, and though it was night bring back day itself — so long as the breeze was gentle, and the sky clear.
It is plain to see that this is a splendid custom of the homeland over there.* In this way, this church and this icon commemorating Augustine brought to English exiles the consolation of a mother’s sister in place of their motherland. Here, they could pray frequently; here they could, like orphaned foreigners, fondly revisit their fond parent.
freely translated
‘Splendid’ in the sense of glittering, full of splendour. Goscelin, in his account of the translation of St Augustine’s relics in 1091, records that a silver lamp was always kept burning before them. On one occasion, the candle was accidentally blown out by the press of pilgrims. Hastily, a flame was fetched (‘as if afraid of having wronged the Original’) but before it could be applied the candle reignited by some invisible agency, causing much wonder and a spontaneous rendition of the Te Deum Laudamus. See also A Light to Lighten the English, where something similar happened to the parents of St Dunstan of Canterbury.