When I am poor, Lord,
I just look at you, a tiny babe
In a manger,
In a cold stable
Mary and Joseph warming you
As best they were able,
And I don’t need to worry
Because I know your story.
Grant me the grace of poverty of spirit.
When I am alone, Lord,
I just look at you, my Saviour
In the Garden of Gethsemane,
In agony of Body and Spirit
Peter, James and John nearby.
And I know that you are by my side.
Because you promised not to leave us alone.
Grant me the grace of trust in you.
When I am falsely accused, Lord,
I just look at you, a king
In an unjust court
When your life with
Thirty pieces of silver, was bought
And like you, I try to remain steadfast,
Because your favour is what I desire.
Grant me the grace of wisdom.
When I am in pain, Lord,
I just look at you, a holy prisoner
In a human court of law
Bowed down under the scourge
And a thorny crown upon your brow
Because you meekly accepted all for me.
Grant me the grace of fortitude.
When I feel week, Lord,
I just look upon you, carrying your cross
That unbearable weight
Carrying the sins of the world
Falling, falling in your weakened state
Because you wanted to show strength in weakness.
Grant me the grace of courage.
When my life here is coming to an end, Lord
I’ll just look at you upon your cross,
In your final agonising throes
Struggling for every breath
And thirsting for our souls
Because you suffered all for us.
Grant me the grace of final perseverance.
© 2017 Rosalie Annette Bourke
