The littlest bird

Precious Blood doves fountain sacred heart

+JMJ

(Dedicated to St Therese, who spoke of these ideas in her book Story of a Soul).

A little bird

Gazed at the sky.

There, eagles soared,

Larks sang,

Brilliant colours dazzled it.

Its heart rejoiced,

It reached for the heights.

Then, it saw its own grey feathers,

And a little broken wing.

On the earth, it cried –

“I am the smallest!”

And as it wept,

It did not see –

The sun’s rays

Enveloping it,

It did not see –

Two hands holding it.

For Love reaches to the low,

As to the high.

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Abandonment

Lord, teach me to do Thy Will

+JMJ

On a long journey,

A father carried his child.

The small child dreamed –

A vale of flowers,

Brilliant sunshine,

A bright blue ocean.

But the skies were grey,

Rain fell,

The wind beat against his face.

The child looked at the dark sky,

The cliffs, the sharp rocks,

And was afraid.

“Where am I going? And how?”

Then he looked at his father,

And saw that he was still carried,

And he did not look away.

Canticle of St Agnes

Simple, Sweet, Modest Bouasse Lebel 1496

+JMJ

I loved this poem about the Virgin Martyr, St Agnes. This poem was written by St Therese of Lisieux, translated from the original French.

  “My only Love is Christ.”

From the Acts of her Martyrdom

Christ is my Love alone, all life is He for me;

He is my one Betrothed, Who charms my dazzled eyes;

E’en now I hear vibrate the solemn harmony

Of His melodious sighs.

With precious stones and gold He decks my flowing hair,

Already on my hand shines bright His nuptial ring;

And many lustrous stars, magnificently fair,

Are love-gifts from my King.

With pearls, all price beyond, has He adorned my hands;

About my neck He placed a necklace wondrous bright;

Celestial rubies red, from far-off unknown lands,

Bedeck my ears to-night.

Betrothed am I to Him on Whom the angels wait,

Trembling before His throne throughout eternity;

The sun and moon His praise with rapture will relate,

Till time shall cease to be.

Divine His Person is; heaven is His realm of bliss;

He for His Mother chose a Virgin here on earth;

Who no beginning hath, nor end, His Father is, —

Eternal is that birth.

Ah! when this Jesus Christ at times to touch I dare,

More pure becomes my heart; more chaste, dear Lord, am I!

The kisses of His mouth give me the treasure fair

Of blest virginity.

His signet He hath set already on my face,

That so no earthly love may dare draw nigh to me;

Kept thus for Christ alone, by His abiding grace,

His perfect purity.

Cleansed by the precious Blood He shed on Calvary’s cross,

Already here I taste of heaven’s matchless bliss;

The honey and the milk — with joys that know not loss —

Come to me with His kiss.

No thought of fear have I, of either flame or sword:

For naught can now disturb this perfect heavenly peace

A fire of love divine pervades my soul, O Lord:

And never shall it cease.

January21, 1896.

(image credit: http://holycardheaven.blogspot.ca/

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/

image unaltered)

Jesus only

4_ My beloved to me and I to HIm

+JMJ

This is a poem written by St Therese of Lisieux for a novice

Oh, how my heart would spend itself, to bless;

It hath such need to prove its tenderness!

And yet what heart can my heart comprehend?

What heart shall always love me without end?

All — all in vain for such return seek I;

Jesus alone my soul can satisfy.

Naught else contents or charms me here below;

Created things no lasting joy bestow.

My peace, my joy, my love, O Christ!

‘Tis Thou alone! Thou hast sufficed.

Thou didst know how to make a mother’s heart;

Tenderest of fathers, Lord! to me Thou art.

My only Love, Jesus, Divinest Word!

More than maternal is Thy heart, dear Lord!

Each moment Thou my way dost guard and guide;

I call — at once I find Thee at my side —

And if, sometimes Thou hid’st Thy face from me,

Thou com’st Thyself to help me seek for Thee.

Thee, Thee, alone I choose: I am Thy bride.

Unto Thy arms I hasten, there to hide.

Thee would I love, as little children love;

For Thee, like warrior bold, my love I’d prove.

Now, like to children, full of joy and glee,

So come I, Lord! to show my love to Thee;

Yet, like a warrior bold with high elation,

Rush I to combats in my blest vocation.

Thy Heart is Guardian of our innocence;

Not once shall it deceive my confidence.

Wholly my hopes are placed in Thee, dear Lord!

After long exile, I Thy Face adored

In heaven shall see. When clouds the skies o’erspread.

To Thee, my Jesus! I lift up my head;

For, in Thy tender glance, these words I see:

“O child! I made My radiant heaven for thee.”

I know it well — my burning tears and sighs

Are full of charm for Thy benignant eyes.

Strong seraphs form in heaven Thy court divine,

Yet Thou dost seek this poor weak heart of mine.

Ah! take my heart! Jesus, tis Thine alone;

All my desires I yield to Thee, my Own!

And all my friends, that are so loved by me,

No longer will I love them, save in Thee!

August 15, 1896.

(image credit: http://holycardheaven.blogspot.ca/

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/

image unaltered)