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Show A PASSION PRAYEE. Out of the depths, my God, I cry to Thee From an abyss of helpless misery! From depths no heart may fathom save Thine own; Xo eye may scan save Thine, my God, alone. Thou knowest Thou hast seen how I have turned From Thy sweet Cross! how madly I have yearned To quench the thirst, which naught of earth can slake. With joys Thou couldnst not bless! Now now 1 take All that hath wronged Thy Love and in the dust I cast it 'ncath Thy Feet. All Pure, All Just, Yet ever merciful. Thou wilt not spurn Me from Thy Face! Thy Voice hath bid me turn To Thee in quenchless hope; boldly 1 cast The bitter harvest of an evil past Into the deep, the Infinite Abvss Of Th ne Uni at homed Heart. It was for this That, like the tempest-riven rock, Thy Side Was pierced, to shelter me! There, then. J hide The heart 1 cannot keep for Thee from stain The soul, my feeble hands would guard in vain ! S. M. Wilfrid, O. S. D. |