DEDICATED TO THE WOMAN I LOVE:
The Woman whom even God dreamed of
Before the world was made;
The Woman of whom I was born
At a cost of pain and labor at a Cross;
The Woman who, though no priest,
Could yet on Calvary’s Hill breathe,
“This is my Body; This is my Blood”
For none save her gave Him human life.
The Woman who guides my pen,
Which falters so with words
In telling of the Word.
The Woman who, in a world of Reds,
Shows forth the blue of hope.
Accept these dried grapes of thoughts
From this poor author, who has no wine;
And with Cana’s magic and thy Son’s Power
Work a miracle and save a soul
Forgetting not my own.
The Servant of God: Archbishop Fulton Sheen
