Sister Mary Ruth's Morning Prayer (19)
Sister Ruth woke in her cell,
What time it was she could not tell
Was it time for Morning Prayer?
No hymns were mounting from the stairs;
She slipped from her hardwood bed
,
Fell to her knees and bowed her head,
'Gracious Jesus, Lord of Light,
Be forever in my sight,
May your Spirit be my Guide
Ever ready at my side;
Let your Mercy be My Torch
My inspiration, my vital Source,
For without You in the Universe,
Man's a beast and surely cursed;
May this day bring plenitude
Goodness, Kindness, certitude;
May each hour of this day
Inspire my faith, my fears allay,
May I be worthy of the price
The Lord, Our Father's sacrifice
His only Son on earth here born,
Crowned Our King with Bloody Thorns;
In obedience to His Cause,
I submit my Soul with all its flaws.'
Sermon By the Fire (20)
The Pilgrim Chief named Zechariah,
Held a candle to the fire,
And these are the words that he said,
I repeat them often in my head:
'So is this flame to the fire,
So is your Soul to Our Sire,
Your Soul is small, a little flame,
Yet it casts a light all the same;
When you walk within the yard,
Beneath the sunlight of Our God,
Know your Soul, that little flame,
Though obscured reflects His name;
For when the darkness assumes the world,
When His Flame is cupped and curled,
In the darkness your Soul burns bright
To guide you when He's out of sight;
Protect your Soul, your living flame,
That pale reflection of His Name;
For Evil is like a wild windstorm
It rips the air, it whips all forms,
It tests the candle of your Soul,
Burnt wicks are smoke in dark Sheol;
Protect the wick, protect the taper,
From Our Savior never waiver;
Thus may your flame join to His Light
In Eternal Glory within His Sight.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem