Uneasy Line of a Priest Vitus A. Adiita Eight years have since passed swiftly When from among your people you called and anointed me Nothing had I to my name No talent, no worth, no beauty yet My ashes you took away And my shame with beauty you clothed But nothing have I to show No trophies no merits But the scars of my frequent falls And my broken vows The broken vows, the soiled dignity The scanty triumphs, the feeble excuses The missed chances, the wasted graces The empty pride, the exaggerated piety Lay them me all down at your feet Nothing have I to show No trophies no merits My broken pieces are what I bring And a love enough to start again Oh, that I could sing The lyrics of my heart And play the chords of my passion I would sing an unending song And dance a thousand miles Nothing have I to show No laurels, no prize no medals Nothing that you could boast of me Except the modest victories of grace Would that I co...