2. Prayer to Christ

Lord Jesus Christ,

my Redeemer, my Mercy, and my Salvation:

I praise you and give you thanks.

They are far beneath the goodness of your gifts,

which deserve a better return of love;

but although I requite so poorly

the sweet riches of your love

which I have longed to have,

yet my soul will pay its debt

by some sort of praise and thanks,

not as I know I ought, but as I can.

Hope of my heart, strength of my soul,

help of my weakness,

by your powerful kindness complete

what in my powerless weakness I attempt.

My life, the end to which I strive,

although I have not yet attained to love you as I ought,

still let my desire for you

be as great as my love ought to be.

My light, you see my conscience,

because, ‘Lord, before you is all my desire’,

and if my soul wills any good, you gave it me.

Lord, if what you inspire is good,

or rather because it is good, that I should want to love you,

give me what you have made me want:

grant that I may attain to love you as much as you command.

I praise and thank you for the desire that you have inspired;

and I offer you praise and thanks

lest your gift to me be unfruitful,

which you have given me of your own accord.

Perfect what you have begun,

and grant me what you have made me long for,

not according to my deserts but out of your kindness

that came first to me.

Most merciful Lord,

turn my lukewarmness into a fervent love of you.

Most gentle Lord,

my prayer tends towards this –

that by remembering and meditating

on the good things you have done

I may be enkindled with your love.

Your goodness, Lord, created me;

Your mercy cleansed what you had created

from original sin;

your patience has hitherto borne with me,

fed me, waited for me,

when after I had lost the grace of my baptism

I wallowed in many sordid sins.

You wait, good Lord, for my amendment;

My soul waits for the inbreathing of your grace

in order to be sufficiently penitent

to lead a better life.

My Lord and my Creator,

you bear with me and nourish me –

be my helper.

I thirst for you, I hunger for you, I desire you,

I sigh for you, I covet you:

I am like an orphan deprived of the presence

of a very kind father,

who, weeping and wailing, does not cease to cling to

the dear face with his whole heart.

So, as much as I can, though not as much as I ought,

I am mindful of your passion,

your buffeting, your scourging, your cross, your wounds,

how you were slain for me,

how prepared for burial and buried;

and also I remember your glorious Resurrection,

and wonderful Ascension.

All this I hold with unwavering faith,

and weep over the hardship of exile,

hoping in the sole consolation of your coming,

ardently longing for the glorious contemplation of your face.

Alas for me, that I was not able to see

the Lord of Angels humbled to converse with men,

when God, the one insulted,

willed to die that the sinner might live.

Alas that I did not deserve to be amazed

in the presence of a love marvellous and beyond our grasp.

Why, O my soul, were you not there

to be pierced by a sword of bitter sorrow

when you could not bear

the piercing of the side of your Saviour with a lance?

Why could you not bear to see

the nails violate the hands and feet of your Creator?

Why did you not see with horror

the blood that poured out of the side of your Redeemer?

Why were you not drunk with bitter tears

when they gave him bitter gall to drink?

Why did you not share

the sufferings of the most pure virgin,

his worthy mother and your gentle lady?

My most merciful Lady,

what can I say about the fountains

that flowed from your most pure eyes

when you saw your only Son before you,

bound, beaten and hurt?

What do I know of the flood

that drenched your matchless face,

when you beheld your Son, your Lord, and your God,

100

stretched on the cross without guilt,

when the flesh of your flesh

was cruelly butchered by wicked men?

How can I judge what sobs troubled your most pure breast

when you heard, ‘Woman, behold your son,’

105

and the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother’,

when you received as a son

the disciple in place of the master,

the servant for the lord?

Would that I with happy Joseph

110

might have taken down my Lord, from the cross,

wrapped him in spiced grave-clothes

and laid him in the tomb;

or even followed after

so that such a burial

115

might not have been without my mourning.

Would that with the blessed band of women

I might have trembled at the vision of angels

and have heard the news of the Lord’s Resurrection,

news of my consolation,

120

so much looked for, so much desired.

Would that I might have heard from the angel’s mouth,

‘Fear not, Jesus who was crucified, whom you are seeking,

is not here; he is risen.’

Kindest, gentlest, most serene Lord,

125

will you not make it up to me for not seeing

the blessed incorruption of your flesh,

for not having kissed the place of the wounds

where the nails pierced,

for not having sprinkled with tears of joy

130

the scars that prove the truth of your body?

O wonder, beyond price and beyond compare,

‘how will you comfort and recompense me for my grief?’

For it cannot cease while I am a pilgrim, far from my Lord.

Alas, Lord, alas, my soul.

135

You have ascended, consoler of my life,

and you have not said farewell to me.

Going up on your way you blessed your own,

but I did not say good-bye;

‘lifting up your hands’

140

you were received by a cloud into heaven,

and I did not see it;

angels promised your return; and I did not hear it.

What shall I say? What shall I do? Whither shall I go?

Where shall I seek him? Where and when shall I find him?

145

Whom shall I ask? Who will tell me of my beloved?

‘for I am sick from love’.

The joy of my heart fails me’;

my laughter ‘is turned to mourning’;

my heart and my flesh fail me;

150

‘but God is the strength of my heart, my portion for ever.’

‘My soul refuses comfort,’ unless from you, my dear.

‘Whom have I in heaven but you,

and what do I desire upon earth beside you?’

I want you, I hope for you, I seek you;

155

‘to you my heart has said, seek my face’;

‘your face, Lord, have I sought;

turn not your face from me.’

Most kind lover of men,

‘the poor commits himself to you,

160

for you are the helper of the orphan’.

My most safe helper,

have mercy upon the orphan left to you.

I am become a child without a father;

my soul is like a widow.

165

Turn your gaze and behold my tears

which I offer to you till you return.

Come now, Lord, appear to me and I will be consoled;

show me your face and I shall be saved;

display your presence and I have obtained my desire;

170

reveal your glory and my joy will be full.

‘My soul thirsts for you, my flesh longs after you,’

my soul thirsts for God, the fountain of life;

‘when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?’

My consoler, for whom I wait, when will you come?

175

O that I might see the joy that I desire;

that I might be satisfied with the appearing of your glory

for which I hunger;

that I might be satisfied with the riches of your house

for which I sigh;

180

that I might drink of the torrent of your pleasures

for which I thirst.

Lord, meanwhile, let my tears be my meat day and night,

until they say to me, ‘Behold your God,’

until I hear, ‘Soul, behold your bridegroom.’

185

Meanwhile, let me be fed with griefs,

and let my tears be my drink;

comfort me with sorrows.

Perhaps then my Redeemer will come to me,

for he is good;

190

he is kind, he will not tarry,

to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

↑ Back to top