The Seraphic Surrender

Truly thy love doth brightly shine,

Wherein thou won the crown of virtue divine!

Teach me, O Francis, seraphic brother!

In poverty and obedience, call me hither!

Wilt thy love be found in mercies tender,

With the Holy Wounds of Love, most dear,

Imprinted deeply, calling one and all,

To bear the Sacred Wounds in whole!

The oath, sworn to God Most High,

To bear my wounds, thereto solace lie,

With a thornless rose, I shall arise,

Confiding in thee, as my Dark Night flies!

The Hour is nigh, the Cross raised high,

In Calvary’s ascent, death upward springs,

In one oblation, in all glory and honor,

With thy seraphic wings, a psalter will echo.

All laud to God the Father be;

All praise, Eternal Son, to thee;

All glory, as is ever meet,

To God the Holy Paraclete.

Amen.