Even when I Thy beauty and grace so foolishly despise,
And rape myself in boredom every night, and waste
The hours of the night, to spend the hours of the day
Sleeping, sitting, facing walls shifting with puppet-figures…
You, O Lord, never abandon your poor servant!
You still let me hear the music in my ears, sounding
From within an unclean heart, and still let the words
To my pen come, the sublime sweet of oranges to shine!
My whine you hear, the prayer of mercy my insolent
Words conceal, unwrapping the troubles that vex me so,
The love I long for, the passion to stand, and climb into
The open of your holy light, to the fresh of air above.
Jesus, you have saved me, and still entertain a hope
For me, for this heart than can still learn to glimpse
At God in humility and thanks. Another day you give,
Another chance to praise you with an amen of true love.
Your grace, my God, now grant to me, to be Your hero
Upon the earth: by Your sword let me master the body,
And learn the wisdom of Your Will. Let me unearth the
Talent you gave me, and at least double it by Your Word.
The Lord has broken the chains of my anxiety, and led me
To new life. From destruction He has saved me, and revealed
His glory to the lowliest of servants. These hands which seed
Has stained now worthy are to feed His Body to His children.
There is no love greater than this, a love that justice satisfies
With the ocean of His mercy’s cool. I pray, my Lady, that
When Our Lord calls me to bring Him His harvest,
to the love I left I will motion, and say: “Here I am.”