The Poems of Saint Teresa

1. Self-Oblation

Vuestro soy, para Vos nací.

Lord, I am Thine, for I was born for Thee!
Reveal what is it Thou dost ask of me.
O sovereign Lord, of majesty supreme!
O Wisdom, that existed from all time!
O Bounty, showing pity on my soul!
God, one sole Being, merciful, sublime.
Behold this basest of created things.
As thus, with hardihood its love it sings.
And tell me, Lord, what Thou dost ask of me!
Lo, I am Thine! Thou hast created me:
And I am Thine, Thou hast redeemed me:
And I am Thine, for Thou dost bear with me.
And Thine, for Thou hast called me to Thee,
And Thine, Who dost preserve me at Thy cost
Nor leavest me to perish ’mid the lost —
Say what it is, Lord, Thou dost will of me.
Declare what dost decree, O Master kind!
If serf so vile have any fitting task,
And tell what office by Thy will ordained
Is work that from so base a slave dost ask!
Behold, sweet Love, I wait for Thy command,
Behold me. Lord, before Whose face I stand!
Do Thou reveal what Thou dost will of me?
Behold my heart, which here I bring, and in
Thine hand as glad entire free-offering lay,
Together with my body, life, and soul,
The love, the longings that my being sway!
To Thee, Redeemer and most gentle Spouse,
In willing holocaust I pledge my vows.
What is there. Lord, that I may do for Thee?
Bestow long life, or straightway bid me die;
Let health be mine, or pain and sickness send,
With honour or dishonour; be my path
Beset by war, or peaceful till the end.
My strength or weakness be as Thou shalt choose.
For naught Thou askest shall I e’er refuse, —
I only wish what Thou wilt have of me.
Assign me riches, keep in poverty,
And let me cherished or neglected dwell,
In joy or mourning as Thou wilt, upraised
To highest heaven, or hurled down to hell!
Whether the sky be bright, from cloudlets free,
It matters not — I leave the choice to Thee,
What lot, O Lord, wilt Thou decide for me?
Give contemplation if Thou wilt, or let
My lonely soul in dryness ever pine;
Abundance and devotion be the gift
Thou choosest, or a sterile soul be mine!
O Majesty supreme, in naught apart
From Thy decree can I find peace of heart!
Say what it is, Lord, Thou dost wish of me?
Lord, give me wisdom, or, if love demand.
Leave me in ignorance; it matters naught
If mine be years of plenty, or beset
With famine direful and with parching drought!
Be darkness over all or daylight clear.
Despatch me hither, keep me stationed here,
Say what it is, Lord, Thou wilt have of me?
If Thou shouldst destine me for happiness,
For Love’s sake, joy and happiness I greet;
Bid me endure and labour till I die.
Resigned, in work and pain my death I’ll meet,
Reveal the how, the where, the when; for this
Is the sole boon, O Love, I crave of Thee,
That thou declare what Thou wouldst have of me!
Let Calvary or Thabor be my fate,
A desert or a fertile land of rest;
Like Job, in sorrow let me mourning weep,
Or lie, like John, in peace upon Thy breast;
Bear fruit and flourish, or, a withered vine
I’ll perish fruitless, so the choice be Thine!
Reveal, O Lord, what Thou dost ask of me!
Like Joseph as he lay in shackles bound.
Or holding over Egypt first command;
David chastised, atoning for his sins,
Or David crowned as ruler o’er the land;
With Jonas struggling, ’mid the raging sea
Submerged, or set from ills and tempests free —
Declare, O Lord, what Thou wilt have of me!
Then bid me speak or bid me silence keep,
Make me a fecund or a barren land;
Expose my wounds by the stern Law’s decree
Or comfort me by Gospel message bland.
Let me in torture lie or comfort give,
I crave alone that Thou within me live,
And shouldst reveal what Thou wilt have of me!

2. The Soul’s Desire (first version)

Vivo sin vivir en mí.

I live, but yet I live not in myself.
For since aspiring to a life more high
I ever die because I do not die.

This mystic union of Love divine.
The bond whereby alone my soul doth live.
Hath made of God my Captive — but to me
True liberty of heart the while doth give.
And yet my spirit is so sorely pained
At gazing on my Lord by me enchained,
That still I die because I do not die.

Alas, how wearisome a waste is life!
How hard a fate to bear! In exile here
Fast locked in iron fetters lies my soul,
A prisoner in earth’s mournful dungeon drear.
But yet the very hope of some relief
Doth wound my soul with such tormenting grief.
That still I die because I do not die.

No life so bitter, none so sad as mine
While exiled from my Lord my days are spent.
For though to love be sweet, yet hope deferred
Is wearisome: from life’s long banishment,
O God, relieve me! from this mournful freight
Which crushes with a more than leaden weight,
So that I die because I do not die.

I live, since death must surely come at last; —
Upon that hope alone my trust I build.
For when this mortal life shall die, at length
My longings then will wholly be fulfilled.
Come, Death, come, bring life’s certainty to me,
O tarry thou no more! — I wait for thee,
And ever die because I do not die.

Behold, how strong to master us is love!
Molest me. Life, no more! wouldst thou attain
Thine end, lose thou thyself, for by that loss
Alone canst thou the life eternal gain!
Come, gentle Death, sweet Death, do thou delay
No moment longer that most welcome day
Whereon I die because I do not die!

We do but dream we live in earthly life;
Our sole true life is that of heaven on high.
Nor can existence any true delight
Confer until this mortal life shall die.

O Death, I pray thee, shun me not in scorn.
For life to me is but a death forlorn
Wherein I die because I do not die!

Say, Life, what is there I can do for Him,
My God, Who in my heart His home doth make.
Except supremer joy in Him attain
By forfeiture of thee for His dear sake?
O longed-for Death, that maketh all mine own
Him Whom my heart aspireth for alone,
The while I die because I do not die!

Apart from Thee, my God, my one Desire
I long for, what is life disconsolate
Save lengthened agony of hfe prolonged?
Ne’er have I looked upon so sad a fate.
I grieve to see my soul’s most mournful state,
Beset with ills so wholly consummate
That still I die because I do not die!

The gasping fish finds easement from its hurt
In death, when drawn from out its native wave.
And all the agony that djdng brings
Is cured by death itself within the grave.
Can any death with mine in pain compare.
Or rival this most grievous life I bear
Wherein I die because I do not die?

Anon my heart begins to find relief
While gazing on Thee in the Sacred Host,
Yet seeing that I still enjoy Thee not
Tis then I feel my exile from Thee most.
Thus all I see doth but increase my pain,
While still I languish for Thy sight in vain
And ever die because I do not die.

If e’er the hope of looking on Thy face
Inspires my heart with gladness and relief,
The dread lest I may lose Thee in the end
Renews with twofold pang my bitter grief.
Thus fast beset with oft-recurring fears
I wait and hope: slow pass the weary years
While still I die because I do not die.

Deliver me in mercy from this death
And grant, O God, the gift of hfe at last.
Nor let me linger in captivity
Enchained to earth with bonds and fetters fast I
I die with longing to behold Thee near
And gain true life! Without Thy presence dear,
Behold, I die because I do not die!

Henceforth I will bewail my living death.
In mournful lay my woeful life lament
While thus my sins detain me in the world
Long exiled: from this earthly banishment,
O God, when will the dawn of that glad day
Deliver, when at last I truly say
That now I die because I do not die?

3. The Soul’s Desire (second version)

Vivo sin vivir en mí.

A life apart, estranged from myself,
Is now my lot because I die of love;
And since our Lord has sought me for His own,
In Him, not in myself, I live and move.
For when my heart to Christ I wholly gave
Therein this epigraph did He engrave —
That I should die because I do not die!

This mystic union of love divine,
This bond whereby alone my soul doth live,
Hath made my God my Captive — yet to me
True liberty of heart the while doth give.
And yet my spirit is so sorely pained
When I behold my Lord by me enchained.
That still I die because I do not die.

Alas! how wearisome a waste is life!
How hard a fate to bear my exile here
Where locked in iron fetters lies my soul,
A prisoner in earth’s mournful dungeon drear!
And yet to muse upon the day relief
Shall come, doth wound with such tormenting grief
That still I die because I do not die.

Achieve thy task — forsake me utterly!
O Life, I pray of thee, molest me not!
For when I die, throughout eternity
What but to joy and live will be my lot?
Delay thou not to mitigate my grief,
O Death! but in thy pity bring relief.
Because I die in that I do not die!

4. The Soul’s Exile

¡Cuán triste es, Dios mío!

Sadly I pine, O God of mine!
Afar from Thee I sigh!
With yearning heart, from Thee apart,
I long to die!

Weary the day and long the way
That on this earth we wend:
A sojourn drear man passes here,
In exile doomed to spend.
Master adored! O worshipped Lord,
I for deliverance cry!
Craving the grace to see Thy face,
I long to die!

With sorrow rife, our earthly life
Could not more bitter be.
Nor can life dwell within the soul
While kept apart from Thee!
O Thou my sweet and only Good,
In misery I sigh!
Craving the grace to see Thy face,
I long to die!

O Death benign! upon me shine
And succour thou my pain!
The blow dost deal is sweet to feel,
Wliereby we freedom gain!
What bhssful fate, O my Beloved,
To dwell with Thee for aye!
Grant me the grace to see Thy face,
And let me die!

A love earth-born is ever drawn
To life that’s spent on earth —
For life of bliss alone, doth hope
The love of heavenly birth!
Ah, who can live, eternal God,
Apart from Thee, I cry!
Craving the grace to see Thy face,
I beg to die!

For he who dwells in this sad world
In sorrow ever sighs,
Since true life never can be found
Except in Paradise!
Do Thou assist me, O my God,
To win that life on high.
And grant me grace to see Thy face!
Oh, let me die!

Then who would fear, if death drew near,
To let it work its will.
Since thus we buy eternally
A joy that lasteth still?
For oh, to love Thee, God of mine,
Is endless ecstasy!
Then grant me grace to see Thy face.
Because I long to die!

My anguished soul doth faint for grief
And utters many a moan!
Alas! what heart can live apart
From Him it loves alone?
Free me, oh free me, from the pain
In which I ever lie!
Bestow the grace to see Thy face.
And let me die!

When on the cruel, hidden hook
The river-fish is caught,
Its pains and struggles by its death
Are to an ending brought.
My only Good! apart from Thee,
Such is mine agony —
Then give me grace to see Thy face.
And let me die!

O Master mine! My anxious soul
Doth seek for Thee in vain.
Since Thou art still invisible,
Nor dost relieve its pain.
Then from my love thereby inflamed
Breaks forth the bitter cry —
Oh grant me grace to see Thy face,
That I may die!

When Thou, my God, within my heart
Dost deign to come as Guest,
The instant thought of losing Thee
Doth lacerate my breast!
Ah, woe is me! my anguish keen
Doth make me moan and sigh
To win the grace to see Thy face.
And seeing — die!

Lord, finish this long agony
In which so long I groan.
And render Thy poor handmaid help,
Who craves for Thee alone!
Let me be happy: shatter Thou
The chains in which I lie
And give me grace to see Thy face,
And then to die!

But no! not so, beloved Lord!
My pain is the just meed
Whereby I expiate my sins
And many an evil deed!
My groans and tears plead in Thine ears
And for Thy mercy sigh!
Oh grant me grace to see Thy face.
And seeing — die!

5. Self-Surrender

Dichoso el corazón enamorado.

How blessed is the heart with love fast bound
On God, the centre of its every thought!
Renouncing all created things as naught,
In Him its glory and its joy are found.
Even from self its cares are now set free;
T’ wards God alone its aims, its actions tend —
Joyful and swift it journeys to its end
O’er the wild waves of life’s tempestuous sea!

6. Divine Beauty

¡O hermosura que excedéis!

O Beauty, that doth far transcend
All other beauty! Thou doest deign.
Without a wound, our hearts to pain —
Without a pang, our wills to bend
To hold all love for creatures vain.
O mystic love-knot, that dost bind
Two beings of such diverse kind!
How canst Thou, then, e’er severed be?
For bound, such strength we gain from Thee,
We take for joys the griefs we find!
Things void of being linked, unite
With that great Beauty Infinite:
Thou fill’st my soul, which hungers still:
Thou lov’st where men can find but ill:
Our naught grows precious by Thy might!

7. The Compact

Ya toda me entregué y di.

Now am I wholly yielded up, foregone,
And this the pact I made,
That the Beloved should be all mine own,

I His alone!
Struck by the gentle Hunter
And overthrown.
Within the arms of Love
My soul lay prone.
Raised to new life at last
This contract ‘tween us passed.
That the Beloved should be all mine own,

I His alone!
With lance embarbed with love
He took His aim —
One with its Maker hence
My soul became.
No love but His I crave
Since self to Him I gave,
For the Beloved is mine own,
I His alone!

8. On the Transverberation of the Saint’s Heart

En las internas entrañas.

Within my heart a stab I felt —
A sudden stab, expecting naught;
Beneath God’s standard was it dealt
For goodly were the deeds it wrought.
And though the lance hath wounded me,
And though the wound be unto death,
Surpassing far all other pain,
Yet doth new life therefrom draw breath!

How doth a mortal wound give life?
How, while life-giving, yet doth slay?
How heal while wounding, leaving thee
United to thy God alway?
Celestial was that hand, and though
With peril dire the fray was fraught.
It came forth victor o’er the lance
And goodly were the deeds it wrought.

9. Aspirations

Si el amor que me tenéis.

If Thy love bear
Resemblance, O my God, to mine for Thee,
Reveal what is it that doth hinder me,
What keeps me here?
What cravest thou, O heart?
Naught, O my God, but to behold Thee near!
What is the thing that thou dost chiefly fear?
To dwell from Thee apart!
Of love I’m fain.
That Thou mayst take possession of my breast
To be a fitting home for Thee, a nest
Thee to contain.
Hid in its God,
What other blessing can the soul desire
Except to love Thee more,
And ever daily learn, with love afire,
Love’s deeper lore?

10. “Soul, Thou Must Seek Thyself in Me, and Seek for Me in Thee”

Alma, buscarte has en mí.

Such is the power of love, O soul,
To paint thee in My heart.
No craftsman with such art,
Whate’er his skill might be, could there
Thine image thus impart!
‘Twas love that gave thee life:
Then, Fairest, if thou be
Lost to thyself, thou’lt see
Thy portrait in My bosom stamped:
Soul, seek thyself in Me!
Wouldst find thy form within My heart
If there thou madest quest.
And with such life invest,
Thou wouldst rejoice to find thee thus
Engraven in My breast.
Or if, perchance, art ignorant
Where thou mayst light on Me,
Wander not wide and free,
Soul, if My presence wouldst attain.
Seek in thyself for Me!
Because in thee I find My house of rest.
My dwelling-place, My home,
Where at all hours I come
And knock at the closed portal of thy thoughts
When far abroad they roam.
No need is there to look for Me without.
Nor far in search to flee;
Promptly I come to thee;
If thou but call to Me it doth suffice —
Seek in thyself for Me!

11. The Dying Saint to Her Crucifix

Soberano Esposo mío.

O Thou my sovereign Spouse! To Thee
I come. Ah, grant me to attain.
Nor let me wander far in vain.
That in the depths of Thy vast sea
This streamlet may its end obtain!
O gentle Spouse! Aid with Thy grace.
And with the palm my soul invest
That’s due to love’s subservient quest,
That in its Bridegroom’s fond embrace
My soul may find its perfect rest!
Thine arms for me will vic’try get.
Nor to entreat such boon I shrink,
Knowing that Thou wilt never think
How little Thou dost owe — and yet
How deeply / am in Thy debt!
Lord, by Thy nuptial contract bide.
Detach my soul from alien ties
And make it sure of Paradise,
Since Thou with arms outstretched wide
Art waiting to receive Thy bride.
Since Thou dost thus Thine arms extend
I’ll give my soul to be their prey,
And while Thou drawest it away.
Thine eyes, my Christ, upon me bend.
Whose soul dost from my body rend!
While I to Thee my soul confide.
Let Thy five wounds my comfort be
To which my soul finds passage free.
For they as heaven’s portals bide
Which, for my sake, were opened wide.
Thy guests are of such noble sort
I know not if my lowly state
Gives entrance, so beside the gate,
A lowly woman, do I wait.
Apart from those that form Thy court!
My life in such a sort is led,
Obedient to the laws Love made,
That all my hopes on Thee are stayed,
While hangs to plead in my poor stead
This Agnus Dei by my bed.
Care not that I am indigent,
But look upon my soul as Thine,
And say if certain hope be mine!
Ah yes! I see Thy head is bent
To bow me token of assent!
At length the time has come to see
How far our love doth lead in truth,
And if we love in very sooth,
For now I come to shelter me
Beneath the branches of this tree.
Since this is so, my Spouse, my King!
Though surging tumult round me rage
Let Thy command my dread assuage.
While to these wood cross-bars I cling.
That He they hold defence may bring!
I do not fear the anguish rife
In that last parting’s bitter sting
If unto Thee, my Christ, I cling.
For in that hour of final strife
I hold within my clasped hands — Life.
For if I clasp Thee, Lord, behold
Then doth our mutual delight
My soul with Thee, O Christ, unite.
Since God within mine arms I hold
Who in His arms doth me enfold!

12. Nuns of Carmel

Caminemos para el cielo.

Let us e’er journey on to heaven.
Ye nuns of Carmel!

Let us be ever mortified,
Of humble heart though the world gibe.
All comfort and dehght denied,
As nuns of Carmel.

By vow we promised to obey
Nor let our wills assert their sway:
Be this our aim, be this our stay.
We nuns of Carmel!

The path of poverty we plod.
For ’tis the road to earth He trod
When from the heavens came our God,
O nuns of Carmel!

For God’s love waneth not at all.
He to our souls doth ever call:
Follow we Him nor fear to fall,
O nuns of Carmel!

Strive to attain that blessed shore
Where we shall suffer nevermore
From poverty nor anguish sore,
We nuns of Carmel!

Elias’ pattern hath imbued
Our courage for self-combat rude
With burning zeal and fortitude,
As nuns of Carmel..

Thus, while we from self-love abstain.
The prize Eliseus did obtain.
The two-fold spirit, may we gain.
We nuns of Carmel!

13. The Wise Virgin

Written for the veiling of Sister Isabel of the Angels.

Hermana, por qué veléis.

To bid thee, sister, keep strict watch and ward.
We, on this morn, bestowed this veil on thee.
For heaven itself ’twill win thee in reward —
Then watchful be!

Sister, the graceful veil we gave to thee
Doth warn thee to keep steadfast watch and ward.
And faithfully to tend thy virgin-lamp,
Until the hour the Bridegroom comes, — thy Lord,
For sudden, like some far-famed bandit. He
Comes unawares, when thou dost least foresee —
Then watchful be l

For none doth know nor can His hour decree —
For whether in the first hour of the night
It comes, or lingers till the next or third.
No Christian soul there is divines aright.
Then watch, my sister, watch, lest by surprise
Thou shouldst be plundered of thy lawful prize!
Oh, watchful be!

Ever, O sister, in thy vigil, see
Thou hold’st a burning lamp within thy hand.
Wearing thy veil while thou dost mount on guard:
Constant, with reins fast girded, shalt thou stand!
Beware lest thou by slumber be undone
Ere yet thy pilgrim-course be wholly run —
But watchful be!

Then take a vial with thee: kept ever filled
With oil of works, and merits thou hast won,
As fuel to provide thy virgin lamp
Lest the flame perish ere thy vigil’s done,

Since thou wouldst have to seek it from afar
If empty were the vase that thou didst bear —
So watchful be!

For there are none would lend the oil to thee,
And if thou shouldst depart to purchase more
Thou might return too late. If once the Spouse
Has come and passed within the bridal door,
And they by His behest the portal lock,
Ne’er will it open more to cry or knock-
Then watchful be!

So keep thou sentinel, I counsel thee.
And let thy threefold promise made this morn
Be kept with manful courage faithfully,
As thou on thy profession day hast sworn.
Thus, if on earth in vigil thou dost wake,
Shalt with the Bridegroom joyful entrance make —
Sister, I charge thee, ever watchful be!

14. The Refrain of a Song for a Clothing

¿Quién os trajo acá, doncella?

Maiden, who was it brought you here
From out the vale of misery?
— God and my happy destiny!

15. The Holocaust

Written for the profession of Sister Isabel of the Angels.

Sea mi gozo en el llanto.

Henceforth I’ll joy in wretchedness,
Let startling fears be my repose,
And reaping solace from my woes
Take losses for my sole success!
May tempests fierce assault my love;
My feast be wounds I won in strife
And death become for me my hfe;
Contempt to me true honour prove!
My riches he in poverty.
My triumph from my wars I wrest
And weary toil doth make my rest.
The wliile content in grief doth lie!
Obscurity shall be my hght!
Exalted when I’m most abased.
My pathway by the cross is traced,
WTierein I glory and delight.
In base estate mine honour shows:
I bear the palm to suffering due.
While from decay I spring anew
And profit from my losses grows
With hunger am I satiate,
I hope in apprehension drear;
My consolation comes from fear
And sweetness doth with bitter mate!
Obhvion keeps my memory;
I higher rise when beaten down,
And in contempt my fame I own,
While insults gain me victory.
Dishonour weaves my laurel crown;
I strive to win the prize of pain —
The meanest place, that all disdain,
Brings me retirement and renown!
My trust in Christ hath no alloy;
In Him alone I find my peace
Whose lassitudes my strength increase.
And Whom to imitate I joy!
On this support do I rely.
Wherein I find security.
The proof of mine integrity,
The seal that stamps my constancy!

16. The Bride of Christ

A profession song.

¡Oh qué bien tan sin segundo!

Oh, matchless good!
Betrothal that with sanctity endows!
To-day the King of Majesty supreme
Became thy Spouse!
Oh, truly blest
The fate for thee by Providence decreed!
Chosen as His beloved by thy God
Who for thy ransom on the cross did bleed!
Whom serve with fortitude as thou didst pledge
In thy profession vows.
Because the King of Majesty supreme
Is now thy Spouse!
Rich are the gems
The Bridegroom, Lord of earth and sky will give;
Of joys and consolation of His grace
Thy Lover never will thy soul deprive.
As richest gift of all, will He bestow
A humble heart and meek —
As King He can do all He will, and thee
As bride did seek!
He will infuse
For Him so holy and so pure a love,
That I protest, thou mayest from thy heart
All fear of every earthly thing remove,
And still more mayst thou scorn the fiend, for bound
In fetters must he stay.
Because the King of Majesty became
Thy Spouse to-day!

17. The Shepherd’s Bridals

A profession song.

¡Oh! dichosa la zagala!

Blest shepherdess! How high her gain
Who to that Shepherd plights her troth
Who reigns and evermore shall reign!

How blest her lot, whom fate doth wed.
To such a Spouse of goodly race!
My faith, good Gil! I stand abashed.
Nor dare to gaze upon her face
Since she this Bridegroom doth obtain.
Who reigneth, and Who e’er shall reign!

Forsooth, what did she give, to make
That Shepherd take her to His cot? -
Her heart she gave Him for His own —
Aye, ’twas with right goodwill, I wot,
For comely is that Shepherd Swain
Who reigns, and ever more shall reign!

If more she had, more would she give.
So hie thee to her, boy, and take
This basket full, that she may choose
What gifts she to her Love will make.
Now she this Husband doth obtain
Who reigneth, and Who e’er will reign.

The damsel’s dowry have we seen.
But what the gifts the Shepherd brought?
He won her with His own blood-shed!
Oh! at what ransom high she’s bought! -
Blissful all other brides above
The shepherdess that wins such love!
How deeply must that Bridegroom love
To do such kindness to His bride!
Faith! dost thou know He gave her gown.
Her sandals and all else beside?
These did she from her Bridegroom gain
Who reigneth and Who e’er will reign!

Forsooth, good Gil, ’twere well we hired
That shepherdess our flocks to tend;
Upon the hills, with merry cheer,
We’ll win her for our right good friend.
Since she this Bridegroom doth obtain
Who reigns and evermore shall reign!

18. The Cloister

A profession song.

Pues que nuestro Esposo.

Since Christ our Bridegroom doth desire
That we, His brides, a prison share,
Right gladly to the feast we throng.
The while religion’s yoke we bear!
Oh, blessed is the wedding day
That Christ doth for His brides prepare.
Who all are by His heart beloved,
Who all His light and guidance share!
To follow where the cross doth lead
With high perfection be our care.
As gladly to the feast we throng.
The while religion’s yoke we bear.
This state, above all other states,
Is that by which our God doth choose
Whereby He from the galling bonds
That sin hath forged, His brides doth loose.
Jesus doth plight His faith that He
Solace to all such souls will give,
Who ever with a joyful heart
Within this prison steadfast live.
High the reward we shall receive
Within the realm of perfect bliss
If for the treasures kept by Christ
The baubles of the world we miss,
While earth’s deceptions and base dross
We for our Bridegroom’s sake dismiss.
And joyful to the feast we fare
The while religion’s yoke we bear.
For oh! what blessed freedom lies
Contained in such captivity —
A life of perfect happiness
Secure for all eternity!
My heart its fetters doth embrace,
Nor seeks to win its liberty.
So eager to the feast we’ll fare.
The while rehgion’s yoke we bear!

19. The Standard of the Holy Cross

A profession song.

Todos los que militáis.

All ye who fight and fear no loss
Beneath the standard of the cross,
Sleep no more nor slumber now, —

God abides not here below!
Like a gallant warrior brave
God our Lord for death did crave:
Within His footsteps let us tread.
Since by our hands His blood was shed!
For oh! what precious gifts were bought
By that most bitter war He fought!
Sleep thou not nor slumber now —

God abides not here below!
He for us with joy did languish.
Freely bore the cross’s anguish.
Died to bring us sinners light
By His own most piteous plight!
Oh most glorious victory!
How great the spoils He won thereby!
Sleep thou not nor slumber now —

God abides not here below!
Draw not back in cowardice;
Tend thy life in sacrifice;
None so sure his life of saving
As the loss of it when braving.
Jesus will our Leader be,
Our Reward in victory:
Sleep no more nor slumber now,

For God abides not here below!
Let our lives in death’s libation
Be to Christ a true oblation,
Thus to heaven’s bridals blest
Each will come as welcome guest.
Follow, by this standard led!
Within Christ’s track and footsteps tread!
Oh, sleep no more nor slumber now!
Our God abides not here below!

20. Greeting to the Cross

Cruz, descanso sabroso de mi vida.

Cross, thou delicious solace of my life,
I welcome thee!
O standard, ’neath whose sign, the worst
Of cowards must be brave!
O thou our life, who erst our death
Didst raise from out the grave!
Thy strength the lion didst subdue,
For ’twas thy power the foe that slew, —
Welcome! all hail!

Who loves thee not, lives prisoner,
‘Gainst liberty doth fight!
Who seeks within thy track to tread.
Ne’er wanders from the right.
Blest be the power that thou dost own
Which hath the power of ill o’erthrown!
Welcome, all hail!

‘Twas thou didst bring deliverance
To us in bondage lost;
‘Twas thou the ill that didst redeem.
Paid at so dear a cost.
For thou, with God, wast instrument
Of joy by...
Welcome! all hail!

21. Processional for the Feast of the Holy Cross

En la cruz está la vida.

The Cross contains our life
And our sole solace:
Therein doth lie the only road that leadeth
To Paradise!
Upon the Cross is found the Lord
Of earth and heaven,
And perfect joy of peace profound
(Though war be waging
(From all the ills this mortal exile holds)
Lies in its limits.
And by the Cross alone it is we wend
Our way to heaven.
‘Twas of the Cross the Bride declared
To her Beloved
That it was like the stately palm
Which she had mounted.
The very God of heaven Himself
Its fruit hath tasted.
And by the Cross alone we wend our way
And march to heaven.
‘Tis like a tree of leafy-green —
The Bride’s delection,
Who sat her down to rest herself
Beneath its shadow,
That she might joy in her Beloved,
The King of glory —
And by its means alone we wend
Our way to heaven.
In sight like to a precious olive
The holy Cross
With its blest oil of unction doth anoint
And doth illumine.
Then, O my soul, embrace the Cross with
Joy and gladness.
For ’tis the only road whereby
We reach to heaven!
The soul which to its God hath been
Abandoned wholly,
Being within its heart of hearts detached
From all things earthly,
Finds in the Cross the Tree of Life
And of all comfort,
And a delightsome path whereby
It wends to heaven.
For since upon the Cross the Saviour
Hath freely rested.
It hath become the source of glory
And of honour.
In suffering it becomes our life.
Our consolation.
And ’tis the safest way whereby
To wend to heaven.
Then let us journey on to Paradise,
Ye Nuns of Carmel;
Let us with eagerness embrace the Cross
And follow Jesus.
For ’tis our way, our light whereby to guide us,
Which in itself contains all consolation,
O Nuns of Carmel!
If dearer than the apple of your eye you keep
Your three-fold pledges,
‘Twill from a thousand grievous ills exempt you
Of trials and afflictions that beset us.
We Nuns of Carmel!
The vow you promised of obedience
Although it be of very lofty science.
Ne’er will permit you to do any evil
If ye resist it not — from which
May the great God of heaven e’er preserve you,
Ye Nuns of Carmel!
The vow of chastity
Observe with the most watchful vigilance:
Seek God alone,
And keep yourselves in solitude with Him,
Regardless of the world
O Nuns of Carmel!
What men call poverty.
If in entirety kept when it is vowed
Contains great riches,
And opes the gate of heaven to our coming,
O Nuns of Carmel!
If these we practise
We shall win victory in all our combats,
And in the end shall rest
With Him Who hath created earth and heaven,
We Nuns of Carmel!

22. The Lamb of God

A shepherd’s carol.

¡Ah! pastores que veláis.

Ah, Shepherds, watching by the fold
Your flocks upon the sward.
To-night is born to you a Lamb,
Son of the sovereign Lord!
He Cometh poor, of mean estate;
Guard Him without delay.
Or e’er ye joy in Him, a wolf
Will steal the Lamb away. —
Reach me my crook, Gil — from my hand
I will not let it fall:
No wolf shall steal that Lamb, I vow! —
Know, He is Lord of all!
— Well may you think that I am dazed
Betwixt my joy and pain.
For if this new-bom Babe be God,
Can He indeed be slain?
— He Who is man as well as God
Can choose to live or die;
Bethink thee, ’tis the Lamb indeed,
The Son of God most high!
I know not how men beg Him come,
Then wage on Him such war:
Should He restore us to His land,
Sure, Gil, ’twere better far!
— Sin caused our exile here, and in
His hands all good doth lie!
He comes to suffer here on earth.
This God of majesty.
Little thou carest for His pain!
‘Tis so with all mankind:
Men reck not of their neighbour’s ill
Wherein they profit find.
— As Pastor of a mighty nock
Great honour doth He gain.
— Still, ’tis a wondrous thing that God,
The Lord supreme, be slain!

23. The Angels’ Summons to the Shepherds

Mi gallejo, mira quién llama.

See, boy, who doth call so clear!

— Angels, for the Dawn draws near.
Hark! a sound of mighty humming.
Which, methinks, a song may be:
Then hie thee to the Shepherdess,
Now the mom breaks. Bras, with me.
See, boy, who doth call so clear!

Angels, for the Dawn is near.
Is she kin to the Alcalde?
What the damsel’s name and race?
— She is God the Father’s daughter;
Shineth like a star her face!
Look, boy, who doth call so clear!
Angels, for the Dawn is near!

24. The Shepherds at the Crib

Pues el amor.

Mihi autem absit gloriari nisi in Cruce Domini nostri.
Since love brought God to earth
From heaven on high
Naught should affright us more:
Let us both die!

‘) God gives His only Son
As gift to man:
Born in a cattle-shed
His life began.
Lo, God a man becomes.
Triumph most high!
Naught should affright us more
Let us both die!

— Whence the love, Pascual,
For us He bore,
Changing His royal robes
For serge so poor?
— Best loves He poverty;
In His steps hie!
Naught should affright us more
Let us both die!

What will men give to Him,
Giver of all?
— Stripes from their scourges on
His flesh will fall.
Bitter our tears will drop
With grief and sigh!
— If this be sooth indeed,
Let us both die!

He is omnipotent —
How shall they dare?
-’Tis writ, from cruel men
He death must bear.
-Let us conceal the Babe
In secrecy!
-Know’st not ’tis His own will?
— Then, let us die!

25. Christmas Day

A shepherds’ carol.

Hoy nos viene á redimir.

To-day there comes upon our ransom bent
A Shepherd Who is kith to all mankind,
For, Gil, He is our God omnipotent!

And thus it is that He has raised us up,
Freed from the prison Satan held us in,
For He, to Menga and to Llórente,
And Bras, and all of us is truly kin.
Because He is the Lord omnipotent!

— If He be God: how to be sold by men
And hanging on the bitter cross, be slain?
—Dost thou not know that sin is done to death
When Innocence endures the sinners’ pain?
Dost thou not know He is omnipotent?

— My faith! I saw Him as a new-born Babe,
And near Him stood a lovely Shepherdess!
If He be God, why chooseth He to live
With those in poverty and sore distress?
— Knowest thou not He is omnipotent?

Prithee, give o’er thine idle questionings
And let us in His service ever vie;
Since He has come on earth to suffer death.
With Him, Llórente, let us gladly die,
For He, in truth, is God omnipotent.

26. The Shepherds’ Carol for the Circumcision

Vertiendo está sangre.

See, He is shedding blood.
Dominguillo, eh?

Though why I cannot say!
I prithee tell me why
The Infant thus they wound,
For He is innocent,
No guile in Him is found —
His Heart was wholly set.
Though why I cannot say.
On ardent love for me!
Dominguillo, eh?

But must men pain the Babe
Thus soon after His birth?
—Aye, for He comes to die,
To save from ills our earth.
Faith, what a shepherd brave
That Child will make some day!
Shall we not love Him well.
Dominguillo, eh?

Shepherd, I know not why
On Babe so innocent
Thou hast not cared to look?
— Aye, Brasil and Llorent,
Have told me so erstwhile.
— My faith! ’twere ill, I say,
Didst thou not love this Babe,
Dominguillo, eh?

27. Same Subject

Este Niño viene llorando.

E’en as the Babe comes, He is weeping sorely:
Oh hark, Gil, hark! that Babe is calling thee!

Behold the new-bom Infant from the heavens
To earth descends to free us from our foes!
Already is the direful strife beginning.
For see, our Jesus’ blood already flows!
Oh hark, Gil, hark, that Babe is calling thee!

So great the love He beareth for us sinners
That little for the tears He sheds recks He,
Steeling His infant heart to muster courage
Since He the Leader of His flock shall be —
Then hark, Gil, hark, that Babe doth call to thee!

How dear the love He bears for us doth cost Him,
This Infant but a few days newly born,
Whose blood already ’neath the knife is flowing! —
Forsooth, ’tis we and not the Babe should mourn!
Oh hearken, Gil, that Babe is calling thee!

Had He not come to earth to die for sinners
He now were safe within His nest at home!
— Behold, Gil, to our earth from heaven descending
The Babe doth as a roaring lion come:
Oh hark ye, Gil, the Babe is calling thee!

What is it, Pascal, thou art seeking of me
That ever in mine ear thy tale is told?
— To love this Babe Who loves thee, and doth tremble
For thy sake, ’neath the bitter wintry cold:
For hark thee, Gil, the Babe doth call to thee!

28. The Shepherd and the Three Kings

A carol for the Epiphany.

Pues que la estrella.

Since now the star above
The crib doth shine,
Prithee wend with the Kings,
Good flock of mine!
To see Messias there
We’ll take our way.
Now are fulfilled the things
The prophets say:
For in our days, to earth
Doth God descend;
There, with the Kings, my sheep,
I prithee wend.
Gifts let us bring to Him
Of costly store,
Whom the Kings fervently
Seek to adore.
Lo, our great Shepherdess
With joy doth shine!
Prithee wend with the Kings,
O flock of mine!
Question not, Llórente,
The reason why
We hold this Babe as God
Come from on high.
Yield Him thy heart, as mine
To Him I tend —
Hence, with the Kings, my flock,
I prithee wend!

29. To St. Andrew

Si el padecer con amor.

If suffering endured with love upon our part
Can so inspire with joy the stricken heart,
What transport will the sight of Thee impart!
What will it be at length to look upon
Th’ eternal Majesty,
Since Andrew, when he gazed upon the cross,
Was filled with ecstasy!
Nor even while we suffer, can we fail
To win fruition of the bliss we hail —
What joy to see Thee!
Love that to full intensity hath grown
Rests not in idleness.
As the brave warrior, for the one he loves,
Doth on to combat press,
And having o’er Love’s self the victory gained,
Needs must all ends it strives for be attained —
Oh, bliss to see Thee!
Since all men hold in fear the thought of death.
Why is it sweet to thee?
— ‘Tis that when death shall strike, new life shall rise
Of high sublimity.
Thou, O my God, by Thine Own death doth make
The worst of cowards take courage for Thy sake —
What joy to see Thee!
O cross, now the most precious tree of all!
Thou most majestic wood,
Who, being held contemptible and mean
Didst take for Spouse thy God!
I go to meet thee, jubilant of soul.
And, though I merit not to crave such dole,
I joy to see thee!

30. To St. Catherine the Martyr

¡O grande amadora!

O fervent votaress
Of the eternal Lord!
Resplendent star! do thou
Thine aid afford!
E’en in her infancy
A Spouse she chose;
Ne’er did her ardent love
Grant her repose.
Then let no cowards seek
Her company,
Who love the world and fear
For God to die!
Ye cravens, gaze, upon
This maiden fair,
Who cared naught for her wealth
Nor beauty rare.
In persecution fierce
She bore her part,
Enduring torments keen
With virile heart!
The absence of her Love
Caused her far deeper grief,
And suffering borne for Him
Was all that gave relief;
She craved for death, and pain
Alone could comfort give,
Since, while on earth she dwelt,
She could not truly live.
Let us who long
To share a fate so blest
Ne’er labour here
In vain, to seek for rest.
Oh, false deceit!
How loveless ’tis to sigh
For healing here
Where life is misery!

31. St. Hilarion

Hoy ha vencido un guerrero.

This captain ’gainst the world and its allies
The way to victory led, —
Sinners, return, return ye, and within
His footsteps tread!

Seek solitude,
Nor let us crave to die
Till we attain to live
In perfect poverty.
With skill supreme, the way
This chieftain led, —
Sinners, return, return ye, and within
His footsteps tread!

He conquered Lucifer
With penance’ arms,
With patience fought and now is free
From all alarms.
We also shall prevail, if by
This captain led,
Sinners, return, return again, and in
His footsteps tread!

He had no friends
But to the cross he clave:
This is our light, which Christ as light
To sinners gave.
Oh, blessed zeal that stood
The warrior in such stead, —
Sinners, return, return ye, and within
His footsteps tread!

His crown is won — no more
In grief he sighs,
But joys in the reward
Of Paradise.
Oh, glorious victory
In which our soldier bled!
Sinners, return, oh turn again, and in
His footsteps tread!

32. Rhymed Maxims

When God doth the soul chastise
Heavy are its penalties,
Yet beneath the clouds that rise
Purer shine the sunny skies!
Who on this world sets his mind
Ne’er will true contentment find.
He who sets on God his stay
Knows not anguish of dismay.
He who doth self-judgment blind
Quickly calms his troubled mind.
Naught doth greater solace give
Than without desires to live.
Bitter burden do we bear
When for aught on earth we care.
The cross, when borne with ready will,
Far lighter weighs than many an ill.
Seeking for naught.
Life with joy is fraught.
Best of disciplines is still
Discipline of thy self-will.
Let what comes, whate’er may hap,
Ever serve to profit thee:
Great thy profit if dost judge
Everything is bad in thee!
Let naught disturb thy peace
Which will with this world cease.
To the soul that can endure
Any life will easy seem;
Any life a living death
The impatient soul will deem.
A love for God but not the cross.
Will put its hand to little work:
A love that’s strong and full of zeal
Doth neither toil nor trouble shirk.
What though many faults be thine?
Mortified, they’ll soon decline!
He who seeks no private gain
Always finds things to his mind:
He who would his comfort find
E’er sees reason to complain.
Mortification
Brings grief alleviation.
When for earthly things I sigh,
Then, although I live, I die!
If thou a happy nun wouldst be,
Let no one know thy pains but thee!

33. Saint Teresa’s Bookmark

Nada te turbe.

Let naught disturb thee;
Naught fright thee ever;
All things are passing;
God changeth never.
Patience e’er conquers;
With God for thine own
Thou nothing dost lack —
He sufficeth alone!

34. The Soul’s Detachment

Lleva el pensamiento.

Keep thy thought and ev’ry wish
Ever raised to heaven on high;

Let no trouble thee oppress.
Naught destroy tranquillity.
Follow with a valiant heart
Jesus, in the narrow way;
Come what will, whate’er thy trials,
Let naught ever thee dismay.

All the glory of this world
Is but vain and empty show;
Swiftly all things pass away.
Naught is stable here below.
Be thy sole desire to win
Good divine that never wanes;
True and rich in promises,
God our Lord unchanged remains.

Love what best deserves thy love —
Goodness, Bounty infinite —
Lacking patience, love can ne’er
Reach full purity and height.
Confidence and living faith
In the strife the soul maintain;
He who hopes and who believes
All things in the end shall gain.

Though the wrath of hell aroused
Hard the hunted soul besets.
He who to his God adheres
Mocks at all the devil’s threats.

Though disgrace and crosses come,
Though his plans should end in naught,
He whose God his treasure is
Ne’er shall stand in need of aught.
Go, false pleasures of the world!
Go, vain riches that entice!
Though the soul should forfeit all,
God alone would all-suffice!

35. Sonnet to Jesus Crucified

No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte.

I am not moved, my God, to love of Thee
Because Thou pledgest heaven in reward.
Nor is my soul by fear of death so awed
As to be moved straightway from sin to flee.
Thou mov’st my love, my God! to see Thee hang
Nailed to the cross, of men the scoff, the scorn,
Doth move my love! Thy body scourged and torn.
Thy mocking and affronts, Thy dying pang!
It is Thy love that moves me in such way
That did no heaven exist, I’d love Thee still!
Dread of offence would still my spirit sway
Were there no hell — Thy gifts move not my will.
For though I hoped no guerdon in repay.
The same unaltered love my heart would fill!

36. Before the Crucifix

By Isabel of Jesus.

O Thou all good and sweet,
Jesus of Nazareth,
Let me but look on Thee,
Then send me death!

Let those look who will
On rose and jasmine fair;
On Thee I gaze and see
A thousand gardens there.
Thou Flower all seraph-bright,
Jesus of Nazareth!
Let me but look on Thee,
Then send me death!

I seek no other joy —
My Jesus is not here!
All else torments the soul
That holds His Presence dear
Love and desire of Thee
Are of my life the breath;
Let me but look on Thee,
Then send me death!

A captive’s fate is mine.
Whilst far Thou art from me;
Life is but living death,
I live not, save with Thee.
When will that day draw near
Which ends my exile here?
O Thou all good and sweet,
Jesus of Nazareth!
Let me but look on Thee,
Then send me death!

Prayer of St. Teresa

O my God! since Thou art charity and love itself, perfect this virtue in me, that its ardour may consume all the dregs of self-love. May I hold Thee as my sole Treasure and my one glory, far dearer than all creatures. Make me love myself in Thee, for Thee, and by Thee, and my neighbour, for Thy sake, in the same manner, bearing his burdens as

I wish him to bear mine. Let me care for naught beside Thee, except in so far as it will lead me to Thee. May I rejoice in Thy perfect love for me, and in the eternal love borne for Thee by the angels and saints in heaven, where the veil is lifted and they see Thee face to face. Grant that I may exult because the just, who know Thee by faith in this life, count Thee as their highest good, the centre and the end of their affections. I long that sinners and the imperfect may do the same, and with the aid of Thy grace I crave to help them.