December 3, 2003, 1st Sunday of Advent.

A reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah.

You, Lord, are our Father.

Our Redeemer, you are named forever.

Why do you let us wander, O Lord, from your ways,

and harden our hearts so that we fear you not.

Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage.

O that you had rend the heavens and come down with the mountains quaking before you,

while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from

of old.

No ear has ever heard, no I ever seen any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him.

Would that you might meet us doing right, that we are mindful of you in our ways.

Behold, you are angry and we are sinful.

All of us have become like unclean people.

All our good deeds are like polluted rags.

We have all withered like leaves and our guilt carries us away like the wind.

There is none who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to cling to you.

For you have hidden your face from us

and have delivered us up to our guilt.

Yet, O Lord, you are our father.

We are the clay and you the potter.

We are all the work of your hands.

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