God of My Bitter Hours

God of My Bitter Hours 

by Karl Rahner

You knelt in the Gethsemane garden

In the final hours before your death,

The sweat of bloody regret on your brow.

We, too, have our painful episodes

When the bitter taste of obvious defeat

Barricades any hope of comfort and release.

You join us in our bitter hours of struggle

When opposition, discontent, or lament

Block the corridors to our peacefulness.

You reassure us, “This, too, will pass.”