October 7
Come to me, Lord
ord Jesus, I
pray that you may be moved to pity and come to me. I have gone down from
Jerusalem to Jericho, descended from the heights to the depths, from health
to sickness. I have fallen into the hands of the angels of darkness who
have not only stripped me of my garment of spiritual grace but have also
wounded me and left me half-dead. Bind up the wounds of my sins by making
me believe that they can be healed, for if I despair of healing they will
become worse. Apply the oil of forgiveness to them and pour in the wine
of compunction. If you place me on your beast, you will be raising the
poor from the dust, the needy from the rubbish heap. For it is you who
have carried our sins, who have paid back what you did not take. If you
lead me to the inn of your Church you will nourish me with your body and
blood. If you take care of me I shall not transgress your commandments
nor fall prey to the rage of wild beasts. I need your protection as long
as I bear this corruptible flesh. So listen to me, Samaritan, listen to
me who am stripped and wounded, weeping and groaning, as I call upon you
and cry out with David: Have mercy on me, O God, in your great kindness.
From John E. Rotelle, O.S.A., Tradition Day by Day: Readings from
Church Writers. Augustinian Press. Villanova, PA, 1994.
HTML text prepared by David P. Steelman
