The First Comfortable Words - “Come to me…” - The Top Ten Thomas Cranmer Prayers, Phrases, and Collects
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A Quintessential Anglican
This is the last in our summer series of short essays on Thomas Cranmer, the great English reformer. And before we turn to the Four Comfortable Words—a remarkable pastoral moment in the liturgy he crafted—we should recall a few things about his life and impact. Every Anglican, whether they know it or not, walks in his shadow.
Thomas Cranmer was the architect of English Protestantism.
As Archbishop of Canterbury, he championed justification by faith and elevated Scripture above the traditions of Rome.
He was the father of the Book of Common Prayer, first published in 1549, a work that unified public worship in English with clarity, reverence, and biblical depth.
He brought the Bible out of the shadows and into the hands of ordinary people, insisting it be read aloud in churches and made available in homes.
He paid dearly for these convictions. Under Queen Mary I, Cranmer was arrested, condemned for heresy, and burned at the stake in 1556. But by then, the foundation he laid was already too firm to undo.
His reforms—equal parts doctrinal and liturgical—gave the Church of England a shape and soul distinct from both Geneva and Rome.
As J.I. Packer once wrote,
“Cranmer was the greatest liturgist of the English-speaking church, and his genius lay in his ability to combine biblical truth, pastoral sensitivity, and literary beauty in a way that spoke directly to the hearts of ordinary Christians.”
He was not, as Diarmaid MacCulloch reminds us, a natural revolutionary.
“He was a gentle, cautious, and rather private man, yet he became the father of a revolution in English religion.”
The revolution came not with shouts and protests, but in prayers and confessions, in lessons and collects.
Cranmer once wrote these words in the Great Litany (1544), revealing not only his reverence for Scripture but his care for the people of God:
“Good people, come and hear the Word of God, not in vain curiosity or with contempt, but with reverence and humility; and take it to your hearts and practice it in your lives. For it is not enough to hear it, but we must be doers also.”
That’s the voice of a pastor. Not a pamphleteer, not a politician.
His aim wasn’t to impress scholars or win arguments. He was writing for weary souls—sin-sick hearts and struggling believers who needed words of mercy they could hold onto. He gave them language for their hope, their sorrow, their longing for grace.
This is what makes him, in my mind, the quintessential Anglican.
Which brings us to the Four Comfortable Words.
When Cranmer set his hand to the English liturgy, he wasn’t just translating Latin. He was leading a people toward faith. He knew the average churchgoer in Tudor England didn’t need more rules, more rituals, or more religious pressure.
They needed mercy.
Assurance.
Relief.
And so he gave it to them—not in a sermon, but in four sentences of Scripture, placed like balm in the service of Holy Communion.
So, Cranmer placed four short Scripture sentences—he called them “The Comfortable Words”—right in the center of the Communion service. Not at the start, not at the end, but after the Confession and the Absolution, when the soul might still be wondering.
That’s when the priest would lift his voice and speak over the congregation, not his own words, but God’s.
“Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden…”
“God so loved the world…”
“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners…”
“We have an Advocate with the Father…”
Four verses. One gospel.
These verses aren’t arranged at random. Cranmer knew precisely what he was doing. These verses form a kind of ladder—an ascent into a peace that passes understanding.
We begin in weariness and end in advocacy.
We move from need to gift.
We grow from guilt to grace.
From fear to belonging.
And each verse does something doctrine alone cannot do: it speaks to the heart, not just the head.
So in these final installments of our summer series, we’ll slow down and listen again. Not just to Cranmer, but to Christ—whose voice still speaks in these words, still comforts sinners, and still invites the weary to come home.
Today, we begin with the first.
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1. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
(Matthew 11:28)
What the Verse Says
As I mentioned last time, the Comfortable Words were buried alive in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer. They only appear in the traditional service of Rite I. But the framers of the 2019 BCP corrected this, and Cranmer’s Comfortable Words are in both primary services. Praise God for this!
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In the 2019 edition, the words are spoken, then, not by the priest, but almost as if by Christ himself. No human assurance could match them.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Look inside the verse.
Take it apart.
What do we see?
Three Words
Labor: This word implies a weariness from within.
Heavy laden: A burden placed from without—like bricks hoisted on your back, not a weight you chose.
Rest: The most beautiful word of all. It’s not a reward for the righteous. It’s relief for the wrecked.
What a gift to us all. For all who labor, for those who are burdened, Cranmer offers something few expected: REST.
Not more religion, but less.
Rest from guilt, from fear, from trying to prove yourself to God or anyone else. He does not say, “Clean yourself up and come.” He says, “Come, and I’ll give.”
Why This Verse Mattered in Cranmer’s England
Cranmer knew this verse had to be heard—weekly, publicly, and, God willing, daily. And heard in every human heart. Why? Because grace in his day had grown elusive. Late medieval religion in England led people to become deeply religious—there were numerous things to do, words to utter, prayers to recite, alms to give, and pious acts to observe.
But after all of that, people were left spiritually unsure. Confession and penance were routine, but peace was rare.
Did I do enough?
Did I say it just right?
What about tomorrow’s sins?
In the Middle Ages, salvation felt like a moving target. People went on pilgrimages. Bought indulgences. Feared purgatory. Performed penance. But none of it brought lasting assurance.
The printing press and English Bibles changed that. But with the flood of Scripture came confusion: competing ideas, fresh arguments, doctrinal skirmishes. Clergy were often poorly trained. Many preached law, but not Gospel. Others said little at all.
Cranmer was a reformer, but first, he was a pastor. He believed that without the Gospel clearly taught, memorably embedded, and regularly spoken, people would drift toward fear—or worse, despair. So he built it into the liturgy. Not just theology for the scholar, but comfort for the sinner.
But there was more Cranmer wanted to convey.
We will address that next time as we move the series forward.
Grace and peace,
The Anglican is the Substack newsletter for LeaderWorks, where I share insights, encouragement, and practical tools for clergy and lay Christians. I’m also an author of over a dozen books available on Amazon.
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