For a year of life, on this last day
Of Two-Thirteen, we give you thanks,
For Sol’s bright light, for evening’s gray,
To be alive with blessed saints. Continue reading
Show me, my Savior, a needy soul,
Where a word, a hand, a touch, can heal;
Make through me your presence real,
To strengthen the weak, restore men whole.
I have in me no power of mine,
Your Spirit stirs to wake the heart;
For nothing I do from you apart,
Who turned the water to perfect wine.
Lord, let me not be swayed by beautiful words or fine phrases which hide false philosophies or strange spirits. Let me see through the fluff, make me penetrate the oratory to discern if I am hearing truth or lies. For above all, O God, I want to be free to serve you.