A Prayer to Christ

A poem by Gregory of Nazianzus
(trans. Brian E. Daley, SJ)

Where's the injustice? I was born human--well and good!
But why am I so battered by life's tidal waves?
I'll speak my mind--harshly perhaps, yet still I'll speak:
Were I not yours, my Christ, this life would be a crime!
We're born, we age, we reach the measure of our days;
I sleep, I rest, I wake again, I go my way
With health and sickness, joys and struggles as my fare,
Sharing the seasons of the sun, the fruits of the earth,
And death, and then corruption--just like any beast,
Whose life, though lowly, still is innocent of sin!
What more do I have? Nothing more, except for God!
Were I not yours, my Christ, this life would be a crime!