A BRIDE.

A NUN'S CELEBRATION OF HER GROOM.

I am a bride of Christ, said Sister Bede;

He kisses me with a thousand stars.

My bridesmaids are the angels

At elbows and head; the wind

Of the four corners my choristers;

The wounds of my groom, my wedding ring;

The hammer on the nails in His hands and feet

Are reminders of His love for me, I swoon

At His touch, for His love is overmuch.

I am but a grain of sand beneath His feet,

An echo in the desert of His wanderings,

A lost sheep of his multifold flock; He holds me

In His arms when I am found, angels in His kingdom

Rejoice at this, but I am as dew

Upon the morning grass,

A speck of dust in the world’s whirl,

A mere grain in His creation of worlds.

I sit and wonder at my gain,

My bridegroom’s touch, His saving arms,

His blessed hands, His finger pointing

At His sacred heart. Nothing in the universe

Can match His power, nothing can separate me

From His boundless love: I feel myself as saved

From darkness and gloom, my sins mar my skin,

My faithlessness taints my breath,

My lack of love hangs in my hair;

But He is my groom; His love washes away

All that taints; His coming is as the sun

On a morning’s break; He has brought me home

To my heart’s desire; He has set my soul alight

With His love’s deep fire.