Our Father, Our Father, Whose creative will asked being for us all.
Confirm it that Thy Primal Love May weave in us the freedom of The actually deficient on The justly actual.
Though written by thy children, with a smudged and crooked line. Thy word is ever legible, thy meaning unequivocal.
And for thy goodness, even sin is a sign.
Inflict thy promises with each occasion of distress, that from our incoherence we may learn to put our trust in thee.
And brutal fact persuade us to adventure, art, and peace.
~Auden
