So does my Father now  when my Bride, the Church, pours out her heart before me  in the Divine Office.  I receive the prayer of my Church expressed in the age–old psalmody,  already so familiar and so dear to my soul,  and unite the prayer of the Church  to my own ceaseless pleading before the Father in the heavenly sanctuary.  It is this that confers upon the psalmody of my Church such impetratory power,  such vehemence, such a resonance in the sanctuary of heaven.

When you chant the psalms  you are giving me all that you hold in your heart  and all that makes up your life.  There is no human experience, no suffering — not even the evil that is sin —that cannot be tendered to me by means of the psalmody of my Church. For this reason it is a tragic loss and an immense woe  when the psalmody of my Church falls silent in a land or in a diocese. It is a silence of death, like that of the netherworld  in which no one intones a song of praise, a lament of repentance,  a hymn of thanksgiving, an ode of love.

My Church will be restored when the sound of her praises —the expression of my own praise of the Father in heaven —begins once again to echo from place to place,  filling the nations of the earth with the sacrificium laudis, the sacrifice of praise.