I have limbs that Thou hast given me. If it be Thy Will that paralysis should fetter my arms, my eyes no longer see the light, my tongue be unable to articulate, my God, I yield them to Thee!
In exchange, grant me Thy Love, Thy Grace, and then ... nothing more, only Heaven!
O Jesus, abandoned by all in the garden of Gethsemane, in need then of comfort and strength:
Jesus, Thou Who knowest that at this moment there are some on earth [pg 188] who have no strength, no comfort, no support, oh! send to them some angel who will give them a little joy, a little peace! Oh, if only I might be that messenger! What must I suffer, Lord?
If an outward trouble or inward pain be needful to make of me but for one moment a consoling angel to some poor lonely heart, oh! however keen the pain, or bitter the trouble, I pray Thee, grant it to me, Jesus!
O Jesus, in search of lips to tell the love Thou bearest for Thy children; lips to tell the poor and lonely they are not despised, the sinful they are not cast away, the timid they are not unprotected. O Jesus! grant that my lips may speak words of strength, love, comfort, and pardon. Let each day seem to me wasted that passes without my having spoken of help and sympathy, without having made some one bless Thy Name, be it but a little child.
O Jesus! so patient towards those who wearied Thee with their importunity and ignorance! Jesus, so long-suffering in teaching, and awaiting the hour of grace! Jesus, grant that I may be patient to listen, to teach, though over and over again I may have to instruct the same thing. Grant me help, that I may always show a smiling face, even though the importunity of some be keenly felt! and if through physical weakness I manifest ennui or weariness, grant, O Jesus, that I may speedily make amends, with loving words, for the pain I have caused.
O Jesus! Who with infinite tact didst await, seated at the roadside, the opportunity for doing good, simply asking a small service of the poor Samaritan woman Thou wouldst save, and draw to Thee.
O Jesus! grant that I may feel and understand all the pain that timidity, [pg 190] shyness, or reserve keep buried within the recesses of the soul. Grant me the tact and discretion that draws near without paining, that asks without repulsing, without humiliating, and thus enable me to bring peace and comfort to the wounded heart.