Praise be to thee for the night, for the time we lie asleep in the darkness, unconscious and unthinking, as mute and innocent as animals, as trees, as the ancient earth itself. Praise be to thee for the gentle hours of the night when no self-will, no words, no cleverness, separate us from the mystery simply of being . . . sustained by thee.
Praise be to thee…for the miracle of waking, new again, into the newness of another day. Praise be to thee for our freedom…not simply to be thy children but to choose to be. Praise be to thee for our waking minds through which we not only live but know we live and can marvel at thy gift to us of life, can offer our lives to thee to use as thou wilt.
Guide us, we pray, down the unknown corridor of this day and every day. Lead us, each one, to the one door of all the many doors that thou wouldst . . . open. Give us courage to speak there the word that thou wouldst have us speak of love and healing. Give us ears to hear thee speak at every turning of the way—to listen, to listen, to hear, and to obey, even when the heart within us faints. Help us to live this day as though it were the first of all our days or the last of all our days. Amen.
–(a prayer by Frederick Buechner, from his book, The Hungering Dark)
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