Dear God, you promise me trouble in this world and you show me how it may be conquered.
Let me accept trial as a gift, let it pass through me, blowing clean the landscape. Blast away my selfishness, grind down my pride. What is left? Let it be love, dear Lord, and not cowering, selfish fear.
Alone on a dark plain, after the storm, let this candle glow and draw near to me the other survivors. Let them slip into this pool of light to join me.