jeudi, d├ęcembre 21, 2006

Christmas Prayer

Where, Christ Child,
can you lay your head
and where will be your rest
when the human heart is made of lead
locked in an iron breast?

When, Christ Child,
will you rule this land
and where will be your throne
when each man's Promised Land
lays captive under Rome?

How, Christ Child,
can I offer you
a gift that meets your worth
when all I have is broken fear
and the crippled dust of earth?

Here, my Lord,
take my thoughts, deeds, time
Be crowned King once again
of weeds, and dust, and worthless grime.
Transform them all, Amen.