Merciful is Your Name, Fundament under all
depths, beneath every profundity, chasm, and
grave where we harrowed have fled to give void to our
misery; fleeing You, finding You, pity-full.
Peace in hope hidden, and hope with dawn rises, yet
dusk only now dusts the scarlet with shadow. Long
hours of grim Solstice distend the horizon and
settle her chill on these quivering denizens.
Joy is our right by inheritance. Blessed the
mourner, though first he a mourner must be. In the
ashes of all loved and longed for we lay and pray
silently, dreading the promise of happy days.
Fools, sincere, bludgeon with hasty serenity.
Jesus, before you arose as the Victor, you
dwelt in the dust and in silence knew dolor. What
solace or balm better fathoms the desolate?
Sit with me here, clad in cinders and camel-hair.
Spirit of Christ you are all consolation; You
only, enough. E’en this pit cannot spare me the
depth of Your presence encircling me, Merciful.