The Face of Christ

If I could but touch your face; dry the tears that have streamed down it, and wipe away the drops of blood that mark it, it would bring me immense joy. If I could take away the pain that I see in your eyes; the pain caused by the sins you saw in the garden; the evil committed by the very ones you loved the most while on earth, I would do it in an instant. If I could steal the worry from the wrinkle in your brow, as you anticipate the agony you are about to endure for my sake, and the sake of all mankind, I would do this for you, dear Jesus. If I could moisten your parched lips and wipe your aching forehead as you gasp for your final breaths, I would be there in a moment to ease your sufferings, oh my sweet and holy King. How can I take your face in my hands and comfort it as you hang upon that terrible cross and die for my salvation; the face I love so dearly; the face I imagine even in my dreams; the face I look upon on the crucifix in church and desire so to caress and comfort? Jesus, take what I can offer you now; merely a humble and contrite heart, willing to give everything to you. Accept this servant's love and contrition for all my faults. Know that I give myself in covenant love to you in all I do. Know that it is my desire to answer your call whatever the price. I am so imperfect and my offering is so meager. Accept it, though, Jesus, for it is all I have to give. Amen.