St Joseh

A Song for St Joseph, patron of our convent

Child, unto death do you wound my heart.
The voice of an angel, I have not
What Mary sees, I know not
Only my heart, have I, and this you know.

Oh, even a warm place to offer you I do not have!

Gold, incense and myrrh are not my gifts,
Empty, are my calloused hands.
Only a warm love, have I, with which to cover you.

Oh, what has your incomprehensible love done to you?

Sleep little one, my all.
You dream of being recompensed by a humanity which has so enamored you.

The Creator yearns for the love of the creature!

Oh, and if a dream comes to disturb you in the night,
Little one, my all,
Here I am for you,
Here I am to keep vigil through the night.