The Psaltery of Roses

For thou see my soul,

A dry, coarse wilderness,

Without Wisdom’s daughter,

Yearning for her lullaby.

Ah, the smile of thy face

Consoles my exiled soul,

For time is my barque,

Not my dwelling place!

Thou drop rose by rose,

And here I am,

Unworthy, withered with weeds, 

But loved by thine heart.

So, I shall incline my ear

To thy precious lullaby,

Going to the altar of Our Lord,

To hear thy adorable voice!

O my precious Little Flower,

Rejoice with the Child Jesus,

For He deigned that thou become

The citadel of my salvation!

Soon, thou will envelop me

With thine rosy pedals,

Kissing away my polluted stream,

Gifting me the bouquet of Joan!

Behold, the majesty of Carmel!

For the valley of my desert,

Raked merrily with a pile of love,

Shall flourish with the Little Flower!

O Musician of Divine Love,

Play the melody of thy Lyre,

For in the Feast of the Lamb,

We shall commune as One.

Thence, I shall see thy face,

Glimpse thy beatific beauty,

Reveling with thy blessing,

For I shall see sweet Jesus!

Thou shall kiss His Holy Face,

And bid me goodbye,

Presenting my guardian angel,

As I gaily leave thy dwelling.

Thérèse, before I leave thy Eden,

Into thy breast, I commend my spirit.

Whisper thy lullaby,

So thy pilgrim may rest.