The Paten
A little golden cradle
It waits for Mary's Son,
Until my words give birth to Him,
Each day's Expected One.
A radiant cross where broken
The unbloody Mystery lies —
Love, be our soul's horizon,
Faith, seal our useless eyes!
It waits for Mary's Son,
Until my words give birth to Him,
Each day's Expected One.
A radiant cross where broken
The unbloody Mystery lies —
Love, be our soul's horizon,
Faith, seal our useless eyes!
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