“To what shall I liken me?
To little birds in their nest.
If the father and mother do not bring them food,
They die of hunger. Thus is my soul without you, Lord;
it does not have its nourishment, it cannot live.
To what shall I liken me?
To the little grain of wheat cast into the earth.
If the dew falls not, if the sun does not warm it,
the grain molds.
But if You give your dew and your sun, the little
Grain will be refreshed and warmed; it will take root and will produce a beautiful plant with many grains.
To what shall I liken me, Lord?
To a rose that is cut and left to dry up in the hand.
It loses its perfume; but if it remains on the rosebush,
It is always fresh and beautiful
and keeps all its perfume.
Keep me, Lord, to give me life in You.
To what shall I liken you, Lord?
To the dove that feeds its little ones,
to a tender Mother who nourishes her little babe.
My enraptured spirit contemplates all Your works.
Who can speak of Thee, O God so great!
O Omnipotent One, it is my ravished soul,
A nothing, a bit of dust says to You:
Come to me.
Who can say that an Omnipotent One takes notice?
One glance! You who look at me, come to me.
You alone, my God, my all.
I see Thee, goodness supreme; Thy glance is maternal.
Come quickly, O Sun of Justice, arise!
My soul is consumed, I languish while waiting.
Psalm of Blessed Myriam Baouardy
1846 – 1878
From “Prayers of the Women Mystics” by Ronda De Sola Chervin