In a small village in Upper Egypt, a number of people gathered around a young man hitting his father with a large stick. Everyone was upset at the ungrateful son and tried to hold him back. The beaten father screamed, “Let him hit me. I beat my father at the same spot. My deeds have come back to me.”
Twenty years may have passed and the son may have thought that his acts were erased by time. However, in due time, he drank from the same cup which he filled.
Your blood sanctifies all my life.
It washes all my iniquities and falls,
But in Your love, You allow me to drink from the cup I poured,
So that I would not belittle my sins.
Awesome are you O Lord in Your love.
You long to not remember my sins.
Because of Your love, You allow my deeds to return to me,
Not as a punishment, but for chastising and edification.
Your hands work always for my salvation.
Are There no Fathers?
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