O God, we bear the imprint of your face: the colors of our skin are your design, and what we have of beauty in our race as man or woman, you alone define, who stretched a living fabric on our frame and gave to each a language and a name. Where we are torn and pulled apart by hate because our race, our skin is not the same, while we are judged unequal by the state and victims made because we own our name, humanity reduced to little worth, dishonored is your living face on earth. O God, we share the image of your Son whose flesh and blood are ours, whatever skin, in humanity we find our own, and in his family our proper kin: Christ is the brother we still crucify, his love the language we must learn, or die.