Sisters! I bring to you the Adored,

The Eternal God, so small, so weak;

I plead for the Incarnate Word,

Because as yet He cannot speak.

To Jesus, exiled from His home,

The cruel world no shelter grants;

And so to Carmel’s shade I come,

To find the shelter that He wants.

Ever your praise, your tenderness,

Your welcome sweet, your warm caress,

Be for this Child!

Oh, burn with love, for He loves you,

This Child, who is your God and Lord.

Pathetic mystery! He who begs, to-night, of you,

Is the Eternal Word!

Come then, my Sisters! without fear,

Each in her turn, to Jesus’ feet,

Offering your love to Him most dear,

And you shall know His will so sweet,

Yes, I will tell you the desires

Of Jesus born amid the snow;

For you are pure as angels are,

And you can suffer too, you know!

Ever your cares, your suffering,

Andall your joys so light of wing,

Be for this Child!

Oh, burn with love, for He loves you,

This Babe, who is your God and Lord!

Pathetic mystery! He who begs, to-night, of you,

Is the Eternal Word!

Jesus, Christ, your only treasure,

Asks one special gift of you.

No gold throne was in the stable,

Yet such treasure is His due.

Sinners’ souls are like the stable,

Bare and cold in winter’s snow,

Off’ring to Him no soft shelter,

No bright fire’s cheerful glow.

Souls of sinners, save them, Sister!

That the throne our Lord desires;

Seeks He, too, the royal welcome

Of your pure heart’s holy fires.

He Who feeds the souls predestined

With His Essence all Divine,

Makes Himself the Infant Jesus

To be your delight, and mine.

Up in heaven His joy is perfect;

Here below, a beggar He

Quickly fetch some milk, dear Sister;

Baby Jesus thirsts, you see.

Ah! our little Brother Jesus

Smiles on you. Noel! Noel!

Down from heaven to earth He cometh

In your childlike heart to dwell.

You, dearest Sister! long to know

What you can do for Jesus’ sake,

So joyfully I haste to tell

How you His glorious smiles can wake.

Go, catch for Him some charming birds,

And in the stable let them sing,

For they are types of children’s souls,

So dear to this Child Christ their King.

Their pretty hymns, their baby prayers,

His sleep like joy-bells gently break.

Pray for them then; in heaven one day

Those children’s souls your crown will make.

Sometimes, when all the skies are black

With gloomy clouds, and no stars shine,

Our little Jesus grieves alone, —

He craves your love, yes, yours and mine.

Then give to Him the light He wants,

Be like a bright and shining star;

And let your virtues, like a lamp,

Shed welcoming radiance near and far.

So may your rays lead souls to heaven,

The sinful souls for whom He died.

This Child Divine, our Morning Star,

Asks you to be His star, His bride.

MY little Sister, ’waiting there,

Your gift for Bethlehem’s Babe to hear,

Your heart for His melodious lyre

Is what He asks in accents clear.

In heaven’s high court swells up alway

The angels’ song with incense sweet;

And yet He loves, in Carmel’s shade,

To hear your praises at His feet.

So, dearest Sister! ’tis your heart,

Whose melodies our Lord desires.

By night, by day, consume away,

With songs of love, in love’s sweet fires.

Your soul, dear, is a lily sweet, —

Jesus and Mary love it well.

Hear what the heavenly Bridegroom speaks

Softly, yet clear as altar-bell; —

Ah! if I love the lily white,

Symbol of innocence like snow,

Yet for the rose of penitence

I also feel My heart aglow.

Let your warm tears for sinners fall, —

What joy your love will give Me then!

So can I gather at My Will

Those roses dear, the hearts of men.

As by the shining of the sun

Nature is glorified and gay;

As by its radiance field and vale

Grow fair and strong and green alway;

So doth our Jesus, Son divine,

Approach you with His sweet caress,

Shining at His own matin hour,

Your loving heart to heal and bless.

Lo! He is born on Christmas morn,

Your exiled soul to find and cheer,

To fill your days with His warm rays:

So be His smiling valley, dear!

Lo! here on earth, ’neath other skies,

In spite of storm and winter’s snow

Already our dear Little One

Hath found some harvests here below.

But, ah! to gather them He needs

Reapers on fire with quenchless love,

And glad to suffer or to die

For Him who reigns in Heaven above

­Noel Noel to Carmel’s shade

I come, because His will is thine.

Sister! form apostolic souls,

To reap the harvest fields divine.

I want some sweet and cooling fruit,

A bunch of grapes so smooth and fair,

To moisten the small, thirsting lips

Of this dear Babe within my care.

Your lot, my Sister! oh, how blest,

For those choice grapes He asks of you,

Within His vineyard to be prest!

The hearts of all men are His due.

His tiny hand like snow-flake white

Upon your throbbing heart shall lie,

And from all touch of earth’s delight

Absorb it into His on high.

Oh! we how with each morning’s light

Jesus, the Child divinely fair,

Into a little snow-white host

Transforms Himself, that you may share

His life; and yet with greater love,

He longs to change you into Him.

Your heart His precious treasure is,

His happiness, His joy supreme.

Noel! Noel! from heaven He comes,

To fill your soul with glorious light;

The Lamb of God to you descends,

Now be His pure white host to-night!

Ah! the wicked world despises

Love that Jesus feels for men;

And His heavenly eyes are moistened

With hot bitter tears for them;

And His little arms He stretches,

Dearest Sister, unto you.

Shall I tell you what the comfort

That I think He seems to sue?

See! His look is asking of you,

And His sweet eyes seem to say:

Smile on all! That smile suffices

To wipe all My tears away.

Would you like to be the plaything

Of this Child so fair and sweet?

Would you, dear one! like to please Him?

Then lie humbly at His feet.

If He chooses to caress you,

If He lifts you to His breast,

Yes, if He seems tired of you,

Count yourself among the blest.

Be His happy Christmas plaything,

Seeking just to do His will;

And in heaven with countless blessings

He, your happy heart, will fill.

Oft I see the Baby Jesus

Wakeful in His manger bed.

Would you know the reason? Dear ones,

There’s no pillow for His head.

Ah! I know your ardent longing

To console Him night and day.

Give your heart to be His pillow,

That is what He wants alway;

And be ever meek and humble,

Then you will be greatly blest.

You will hear Him softly saying:

In your heart how sweet My rest!

All the earth with snow is covered,

Everywhere the white frosts reign;

Winter and his gloomy courtiers

Hold their court on earth again.

But for you has bloomed the Flower

Of the fields, Who comes to earth

From the fatherland of heaven,

Where eternal spring has birth.

Near the Rose of Christmas, Sister!

In the lowly grasses hide,

And be like the humble flowerets, —

Of heaven’s King the lowly bride!

Day by day, at morn and even,

Still the holy words are said:

O our Father up in Heaven!

Give to us our daily bread,

Yet your God, become your Brother,

Suffers hunger as you do;

And His childish voice is asking

For a little bread from you.

Ah! my Sister! Jesus wishes

Just your love, — how great your bliss!

Let your soul be pure and spotless,

For His daily bread is this.

Children like to have you place them,

Near a mirror clear and fair;

Then they greet with childish rapture

The bright face that they see there.

Come, then, to the favored stable,

Let your soul like crystal glow.

Let the Word, become an Infant,

In your heart His likeness know!

Sister, be the living image,

Of your Spouse, — His mirror clear;

All the beauty of your Jesus

He would have in you appear.

The great and noble of the earth,

In palaces they proudly dwell;

The poor and lonely find their home

In hut, in cabin, and in cell.

So in a humble cattle-shed

The Christ-Child lies, this Christmas night;

Leaving His palace in the skies,

He veils His glory’s dazzling light.

Your heart loves poverty, I know;

You count yourself divinely blest;

So Jesus finds a palace-home

Within your humble, happy breast.

Sinners will crown with thorns, one day

The holy, heavenly head of Christ.

What pains and sorrows will be His,

To gain us graces all unpriced.

Now may your virginal sweet soul

Make Him to-night His woes forget;

And for His royal lily-crown

Your Sisters’ souls before Him set!

Draw very near to Jesus’ throne,

To charm His lovely tear-dimmed eyes;

Make of these virgin souls His crown

Of snow-white lilies beyond price!

Sister dear, the little ones

Like so much the sweet bonbons!

Bring some then, and quickly fill

Jesus’ small white hand to-night!

By His smile He doth invite

You to do His childish will.

This wee King, so frail, so weak,

Carmel’s candies He doth seek; —

What they are, you surely guess!

Give Him your austerity

And your holy poverty, —

He your gift will quickly bless.

Little Jesus, dear, from you

Nothing more doth softly sue

Than a very sweet caress.

Give Him all your love to-day,

And your gift He will repay;

With His love your soul will bless.

If a Sister weep to-night,

Sore at heart where all are bright,

Ah! at once, with tenderness,

Beg the little Holy Child

That His small hand undefiled

Dry her tears with its caress.

Many hearts God’s favors want,

Would have Jesus always grant

Gifts and presents without end.

If He seem awhile to sleep,

Few their watch beside Him keep;

Few remain His faithful friend.

Get Him sleep that none may break;

Though we know His Heart doth wake;

Even in dreams our Jesus weeps.

So His cradle, Sister, be!

Guard the sweet Lamb tenderly,

Smiling on Him while He sleeps.

See the dear Child’s tiny hand

Point — to make you understand —

At the rough and rasping straw.

Won’t you grant His wish to-night,

And bring linens pure and white,

O’er His manger-bed to draw?

Make excuses kind and true,

Whatsoe’er your Sisters do,

Loving all for Christ their King.

Thus your ardent charity,

And your true simplicity,

Are the linens you can bring.

Our sweet Jesus, Fire of love,

Light and Warmth of heaven above,

In the stable, cold is He!

Yet, in the far, shining sky,

Angels, living flames on high,

Wait on Him in ecstasy.

Here on earth ‘tis you must light

Blazing fires of love to-night,

In your heart, all free from sin;

Little shivering Jesus warm

In the shelter of your arm,

By the souls your prayers shall win!

Well we know that children small

Eagerly for cakes will call!

This dear Child will not disdain

Even such a gift to-night!

Offer it with great delight;

You His happy smile will gain.

Know you what to this Child-King

Real content will surely bring?

’Tis obedience prompt and true.

As He bowed to Mary’s will,

So do you the rule fulfil, —

Such the cake He asks of you.

In the pretty floweret’s cup,

When the morning sun comes up,

You can see the tiny bee,

Flitting fast through summer hours,

Visiting the woodland bowers,

Gathering honey steadily.

Ah! of love your treasure make;

And, each day, for Christ’s dear sake,

To His holy cradle come.

All the honey of your love

Give, sweet bee! to this meek Dove;

Make His Heart your hive and home!

Would you charm the Lamb of God?

In the path that He hath trod

Tread to-day with willing feet!

Leaving all things here below,

Seek alone His will to know;

Do His will surpassing sweet!

O my Sister! be His own;

Seek for naught but God alone!

He will give you perfect rest.

Mary, leaning o’er His bed,

Will see another childish head,

Close to His, and oh! how blest.

The dear Child Jesus thanks you all,

For all your gifts, this Christmas night;

And all your names His tiny hand

Within His book of life will write.

Since in this Carmel He hath found

Such joy and peace,

Rewards in heaven He’ll store for you,

That shall not cease.

And if you ever faithful are

To all the vows you make to-night,

Then love will give you wings to fly

Unto a far sublimer height.

One day, in heaven’s dear fatherland,

Your exile o’er,

Jesus and Mary you shall see

Forevermore!