Hope, O My Soul, Hope. You Know

Those Who In Fact Risk All For God Will Find That They Have Both Lost All And Gained All.

The Same Know Contentment, For Beauty Is Their Lover, And Beauty Is Never Absent From This World.

Untilled Ground, However Rich, Will Bring Forth Thistles And Thorns; So Also The Mind Of Man.

Seldom Or Never Is A Poor Man Honored By The World; However Worthy Of Honor He May Be, He Is Apt Rather To Be Despised By It.

Our Soul Can Find In The Blessed Sacrament All The Joys And Consolations It Desires.