O God of hope,
Your supply of hope is infinite and inexhaustible,
For You see the end from the beginning
And know how all our stories end.
You are the maker and fulfiller of promises,
And You know not one dot of an I or cross of a T
Will fall to the ground unrealized.
But we, O Lord,
We are finite and timebound,
Fumbling in the dark, unfamiliar terrain of trials
For a lamp.
Our dust-encrusted lanterns of hope
Prove ineffectual against the tenebral gloom.
Fill us with fresh oil, Lord.
Trim our smoldering, smoking wicks.
Cleanse and polish our lamps.
Kindle hope afresh in us,
Not for us only,
But to light the lost world's path
Homeward into You.
