BodhisattBar

Would I might wake St Francis in you all,
Brother of birds and trees, God’s Troubadour,
Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor:
Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men,
Come, let us chant and canticle again
Of mother earth and the enduring sun.
God make each soul
The lonely leper’s slave:
God make us saints, and brave.