The saints are quick to give their hearts away
At every gentle prodding from above,
And bear the scars that visit mortal clay
That dares to venture near God’s burning love.
So grateful for the price that has been paid
To change mankind’s infernal destiny,
They joyously accept the holy trade
Of earth’s delights for treasures heavenly.
But what of us, O Lord? But what of us,
Who have our hearts on passing pleasures set;
Whose independent, lonely calculus
Includes scant reckoning of any debt?
O Lord, make saints of less than saintly stuff,
And make us find your love and grace enough.
—Joseph Mirra
Photo by José Luiz via Creative Commons. Image cropped.
Pope and President Tangle
In April, the Holy Father and the president of the United States traded barbs. The proximate cause…
While We’re At It
In Palm Sunday reflections posted on his website, Coram Fratribus, Bishop Erik Varden observes: In the Saint…
Letters—June/July 2026
The sentimental images painted of proud, tight-knit communities slowly crumbling away are compelling, but I have to…