God, unto whom all hearts are open, unto whom all will
is spoken, unto whom nothing is hidden,
I beseech Thee to cleanse the intent of my heart
with the unspeakable gift of Thy grace that
I may perfectly love Thee and worthily praise Thee.
Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now: the frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move:
The thunder is the thundering of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us til we take
The longest stride of soul we ever took.
Affairs are now soul-size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.