A poem written by Archpriest Grigory Petrov shortly before his death in a Siberian prison camp.
What is my praise before you?
I have not heard the cherubim singing, that is the lot of souls sublime,
but I know how nature praises you.
In winter I have thought about the whole earth praying quietly to you in the
silence of the moon,
wrapped around in a mantle of white,
sparkling with diamonds of snow.
I have seen how the rising sun rejoiced in you,
and choirs of birds sang forth glory.
I have heard how secretly the forest noises you abroad,
how the winds sing, the waters gurgle,
how the choirs of stars preach of you in serried motion through
unending space.
There is no more poignant testimony to the difference between Marxism and
Christianity than that a Christian martyr would end his earthly existence in a
spirit of praise to God rather than bitterness towards his oppressor. Indeed,
another English writer, G.K. Chesterton, has observed that the origin of
theology is gratitude. [1518]
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