“My God, if you exist, make your existence known to me,” Bl. Charles de Foucauld
Never having seen the stars of glory,
‘Til encountering them in You.
A mansion of grace without walls
Sheltered him in desert wastes.
The good in his heart was God.
He was a monstrance
His life was Gospel
Preached by a beating heart,
On fire to win man for God.
He lived preparing to die.
He expected martyrdom,
And lived in happy anticipation.
Desert priest and brother of all,
Pray for us,
Who still don’t see the stars.
By Joann Nelander