To Sing Is To Pray Twice.

This Entire Most Beautiful Order Of Good Things Is Going To Pass Away After Its Measure Has Been Exhausted; For Both Morning And Evening Were Made In Them.

When People Truly Open Their Minds, And Contemplate The Way In Which The Universe Is Ordered And Governed, They Are Amazed-overwhelmed By A Sense Of The Miraculous. When People Contemplate With Open Minds The Germination Of A Single Seed, They Are Equally Overwhelmed-yet Numerous Babies Are Born Every Day, And No-one Marvels. If Only People Opened Their Minds, They Would See That The Birth Of A Baby, In Which A New Life Is Created, Is A Greater Miracle Than Restoring Life.

In Our Own Times, You See, An Emperor Came To The City Of Rome, Where There's The Temple Of An Emperor, Where There's A Fisherman's Tomb. And So That Pious And Christian Emperor, Wishing To Beg For Health, For Salvation From The Lord, Did Not Proceed To The Temple Of A Proud Emperor, But To The Tomb Of A Fisherman, Where He Could Imitate That Fisherman In Humility, So That He, Being Thus Approached, Might Then Obtain Something From The Lord, Which A Haughty Emperor Would Be Quite Unable To Earn.

God Of Our Life, There Are Days When The Burdens We Carry Chafe Our Shoulders And Weigh Us Down; When The Road Seems Dreary And Endless, The Skies Gray And Threatening; When Our Lives Have No Music In Them, And Our Hearts Are Lonely, And Our Souls Have Lost Their Courage. Flood The Path With Light, Run Our Eyes To Where The Skies Are Full Of Promise; Tune Our Hearts To Brave Music; Give Us The Sense Of Comradeship With Heroes And Saints Of Every Age; And So Quicken Our Spirits That We May Be Able To Encourage The Souls Of All Who Journey With Us On The Road Of Life, To Your Honor And Glory.

So Give To The Poor; I'm Begging You, I'm Warning You, I'm Commanding You, I'm Ordering You.