Thursday, January 14, 2016

Grant me, O Lord, the tears of purest prayer


When comprehension dawns of your captivity
By days all filled with worldly vanity,
And of your heart entirely fettered
By melancholy and anxiety;
When fires of doubt and gross deception
Upset your soul’s inner tranquility, –
Stand thus in solitude before the Lord
And ask Him then ever so quietly:
Grant me, O Lord,
The tears of purest prayer

The humble Visage looks upon you,
And sorrowfully gaze the eyes
Of Him Who taught us that our prayer
Should be simplicity and awe;
Then sudden warmth will pierce your heart,
A quiver will constrict your voice,
And quietly your tears will flow,
Engendered by those moving words:
Grant me, O Lord,
The tears of purest prayer
- Yuri Bogatkevich
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff, picture here