The following is a poem written by one of our sisters, fitting for today's mysteries.

"Gifts"

The Father poured gifts on his Beloved,
     his Son,
As he slumbered on the Cross
     and in the tomb.

I am one such gift:
     the Son's waking dream
     the child of his heart;
     bone of his bone
     flesh of his flesh,
He clings to me.

I am my Beloved's
He is mine.

I am the Father's gift to his Son.
Christ is the Father's gift to me.
Never has possession been so sweet;
Never has dispossession been so welcome.

The man and his wife were both naked, yet they felt no shame.