My Cry, Your Heart, My God

Reaching for You in the Night, I marvel.
What worlds my prayer spans!
The darkness of Space and Ages
Is penetrated by Your Light,
Pierced by my cry of recognition.

My will, like Longinian sword,
Penetrates Your Heart,
Tapping perpetual Springs.
Hallowed walls of Flesh part
To welcome me, a sinner, to sweet repose.

By Joann Nelander

My Cry, Your Heart, My God

Reaching for You in the Night, I marvel.
What worlds my prayer spans!
The darkness of Space and Ages
Is penetrated by Your Light,
Pierced by my cry of recognition.

My will, like Longinian sword,
Penetrates Your Heart,
Tapping perpetual Springs.
Hallowed walls of Flesh part
To welcome me, a sinner, to sweet repose.

By Joann Nelander

My Cry, Your Heart, My God

My Cry, Your Heart, My God

Reaching for You in the Night, I marvel.
What worlds my prayer spans!
The darkness of Space and Ages
Is penetrated by Your Light,
Pierced by my cry of recognition.

My will, like Longinian sword,
Penetrates Your Heart,
Tapping perpetual Springs.
Hallowed walls of Flesh part
To welcome me, a sinner, to sweet repose.

By Joann Nelander

Miracle of the Sun

 

Darkness had come upon the land,

A darkness so thick,

It could be felt.

 

You spoke and said to me,

I will awake the dawn.

Rising early, I raised my arms to heaven

And Your sun entered my soul.

 

 

A thousand candles,

Burn on the altar of my heart.

Piercing the darkness,

Are Your eyes of Love.

Cascading streams of Light,

Illuminating that cavern,

That was Sin.

 

Lord, help me

Return Your gaze.

I behold You, darkly,

New to the blinding Light.

 

Dancing Miracle of Sun

Accustom my open eyes to Your Spirit

To receive the sun and moonbeams

As You eclipse the Night.

 

© 2012  Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

St. Therese of Lisieux-Before Profession

(During her retreat before profession)

September 4, 1890.

The heavenly music falls but faintly on the ear of your child, and
it has been a dreary journey towards her Bridal Day. It is true
her Betrothed has led her through fertile lands and gorgeous
scenery, but the dark night has prevented her admiring, much less
revelling in, the beauty all around. Perhaps you think this
grieved her. Oh, no! she is happy to follow her Betrothed for His
own sake, and not for the sake of His gifts. He is so ravishingly
beautiful, even when silent--even when concealed. Weary of earthly
consolation, your little child wishes for her Beloved alone. I
believe that the work of Jesus during this retreat has been to
detach me from everything but Himself. My only comfort is the
exceeding strength and peace that is mine. Besides, I hope to be
just what He wills I should be, and in this lies all my happiness.
Did you but know how great is my joy at giving pleasure to Jesus
through being utterly deprived of all joy! . . . . Truly this is
the very refinement of all joy--joy we do not feel.