Blessed are those who pray in the mountains,
where the signs of heaven are clear, where
the echoes of creation’s praise roll like thunder.
Blessed are those who pray in the dark of night,
when the promise of the sun is distant, when
the LORD whispers secrets to the despairing.
Blessed are those who pray in the cities,
where the revelation is among the people
and faith finds its voice in a collective shout.
Blessed are those who pray at the river,
where God’s life overflows for renewal and
the world’s burdens find welcome release.
Blessed are those who pray in famine and plague,
when the wildness of God and the terror of earth
offer no reprieve, when hope is a stranger.
O you who have answered the prayers of generations,
to whom we have poured out our longing and our joy,
bless the praying and the prayed for, O God of generations!