To you, my God, may I pour out a lament
          that I may empty the contents
          of my childish fears and repent
          of my mistaken tears
That you are dear and your kingdom
          is always near
          to the bleeding of my sorrow
          that every tomorrow
          has its destination in your mercy
That in suffering I may be completely
          what you have contrived
          that in striving I may embrace my cross
          and worry not over the loss
          that seems to prevent the risk
                                      of beauty
And so often the reprehensible
          wears the false garments of duty
          and to the sensible
          it seems a worthless pursuit
          that consistently recruits mediocrity
My heart strives for love
          but the world seeks to divide
          knowledge from joy
          and the polite sometimes is a clever ploy
          behind which ideas worth living cannot employ
                                      grace in the pursuit of truth
That so often our youth are kept from thinking
          by drinking the frustrations of a perverse age
          though one alone cannot reverse
          the subtle exchanges of falsehood
          it must be understood
          that unto thee all things are made manifest
Divest me of concern
          so that towards your radiance I may turn
          and not embrace the engulfing shadows.