I know no protocol,
I know no knowledge,
I know no learned words,
I don’t know how to behave myself.
Is my worship worthy enough?
Is my worship suitable enough?
Which give utterance to my childish prattle,
In Your noble and desirous presence.
I try to feel myself
Like a frightened small child,
That, not to loose sight of its mother
Takes hold of a corner of her sari,
To have a handhold that gives confidence.
Then I know that You are there
And that my honest Mother takes care.
It is only out of childish love,
That I say very simple things
With small innocent words.
It is an overflow of my childish heart,
That does not yet think mentally,
Only tries to express its inmost feelings.
And I feel Mother You like it,
I don’t know other ways
To be simple and spontaneous.
I don’t know other manners
To please and praise You,
These words appear by themselves
And are there fluently,
Like a whispering voice
Without thinking of any other efforts.
It is as if You prepared the words,
That You like me to say
And tell You back in a childlike manner.
You show how You like to be loved
I only have to repeat the words,
Then more and more words come.
I only have to listen,
Everything is there and done by You.
And You my dearest Mother
You give and give and give always
Ever more and more,
Never ending and ever endless
Unfailing is Your source.
I hope this love in my longing heart
By Your mercy may grow and grow.
Bring me steadfast higher and higher
To Fathers heavenly realm,
Where You and Him sit together
In the celestial indescribable glory,
So that I am continuously blessed
By Your loving and amiable hand
That ever and ever caresses my head.
048 – Orroir, Belgium 21-7-2001.
N 801 – Up to the Light
N 502 – His Own Light