grant me the dew of your grace

When I remember how I have fallen,
  I tremble at the thought of your justice,
  for you are well aware of my sores and stains.
I dare not look upwards,
  because my sins reach as high as the heavens;
  the mere sight of the earth is an accusation to me,
  for my offenses exceed the number of its inhabitants.
Sorry my plight will be
  when the just and the saints come before God,
  their good deeds shining like the sun.
What will become of me Lord,
  and my lusterless works?
Sorry my plight will be when the priests come forward
  and give back the talents they received from you.
I buried mine, Lord, in the ground.
What shall I find to say?
What answer shall I be able to make?

I am determined that the fire shall not consume me,
  since you have given me your body and blood to feed me.
I refuse to be carried off to Hell,
  for you have given me baptism as a garment to clothe me.
Grant me the dew of your grace,
  and in your mercy, Lord,
  forgive me my sins;
but above all, may glory be yours.

Rabbula of Edessa, c. 350 – 435, bishop of Edessa, Syria
 

_____________________

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”
He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.”
He said to him, “Feed my lambs.”
He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.”
He said to him, “Tend my sheep.”
He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

 

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