Ex ore innocentium
It is a thing most wonderful, almost too wonderful to be, that God’s own Son should come from heav’n and die to save a child like me. And yet I know that it is true, He chose a poor and humble lot and wept, and toiled and mourned and died, for love of those who loved him not. I sometimes think about the Cross and shut my eyes and try to see, the cruel nails and crown of thorns and Jesus crucified for me. But even could I see him die, I should but see a little part, of that great love, which, like a fire, is always burning in his heart. And yet want to love thee Lord, o light of flame within my heart and I will love thee more and more, until I see thee as thou art.