Prayer: Dorothy L. Sayers

Christ walks the world again, his lute upon his back,
His red robe worn to tatters, his riches gone to rack.
The wind that wakes the morning blows his hair about his face,
And his arms and legs are ragged with the thorny briar's embrace,
For the hunt is up behind him, and his sword is at his side.
Christ the bonny outlaw walks the whole world wide.