"AN HISTORIAN'S PRAYER"
If we are worms, give us ears to hear your thunder, Lord. If we are angels, quicken our blood to prepare one another for purification. May I seek to never know your terrible knowledge, the naked evils sobriety alone could not bear. In your mercy, through the Holy Spirit and the majestic radiance of your Son, make me keen of my innocence. Bring the prison of my selfishness to ruins. Seal my every delusion in an incinerator. Burn my hate away; my pride is thick dust in the crypt of my shadow -- in a hurricane I will forgive the dead you name. May my every reason, every intuition, every conclusion, and every verse in even the oldest Scriptures themselves, be subject to the edit of your hand, Lord. For who knows if a page of a book is but a flicker or dimension in your wisdom? just a sand painting upon a rock, from which a dove might fly away and never return?
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