O Mother! thou my heart’s desire

Hast granted now; so hear my cry

Of gratitude and love like fire

Thy child uplifts to thee on high.

By love for God and all mankind,

By bonds of prayer and earnest will,

Thou deignest now my soul to bind

To those who Christ’s last wish fulfil.

‘Tis theirs through pagan lands to go,

And raise the cross of Christ on high;

‘Tis mine, within the cloister low,

His slightest will to satisfy.

I long for suffering; and the cross

With strong desire my heart doth crave.

A thousand deaths were gain, not loss,

If but one soul I help to save!

For this to Carmel’s hill I’ve come, —

Myself to immolate for men.

Christ brought a fire from Heaven’s high dome

I fain would light in hearts again.

Where Afric suns the desert bake,

Where Asian Su-tchen¹¹Countries evangelized by her “brothers,” the missionaries. fronts the east,

My Mother, I can help to make

Thy virginal name revered and blest.

My prayers shall travel every day,

As fast as mighty river rolls;

My brothers, missioned far away,

Helped here by me, shall conquer souls;

And so the pure baptismal stream

Shall make of many a Pagan child

A temple, where God’s grace shall beam,

And God with man be reconciled.

Ah! might I see dear children fill

The heavenly courts where seraphs sing!

Them, by my prayers and God’s sweet will,

My brothers shall to Jesus bring.

The palm my spirit longs to gain,

My brother’s hand in mine shall place.

A martyr’s sister! Any pain

Would seem delight to win that grace.

The fruit of our apostolate

Our longing eyes at last shall see,

When, pressing on through heaven’s gate,

Our souls shall meet the saved and Thee.

Be theirs the honor of the fight,

My priestly brothers far away!

Be mine, reflection of their light,

At last, in heaven’s eternal day!