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.