O, Spotless Flower,

I see that you hold

a tender babe...

 With small open hands, bearing

shadows, marks of my coming

guilt...

And yet He reaches toward me,

and touches my face

most kindheartedly...

Bend closer to me,

Small One,

and stroke my heart

with tiny fingers,

softened with Charity, fresh from the

wonder of endlessness...

strengthen me to 

serve You well...

Let me wear Your handprints

across my fluttering soul...

Holy Child, My Jesus,

Adoration is a word at loss,

unable to say the truth of

how I thirst for You, Long for You...

If Heaven were no more, if I would

die and never hope to breathe again,

Yet only touch You now,

Simply thrill to see Your Face,

Stretch my poor hands toward

Your hem,

And ache with Love of You, as I lie in the dust,

it would be enough.....