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Water, the stream of life, warm, and sweet feeds the soul, and then melts and washes away that malice hidden deep in us; dear God, upon your life's stream, your love we build hope. Time on the cross, blood, and sweat, passionate souls, souls assaulted on all sides, souls in deep peril all serve the true Master; not indifferent, reluctant, and grudging souls. Hard labor and exhaustion make us one with Christ; thus these feel so sweet to the flesh-- for to Him life became piercingly harsh. I remember faithfully that the joy He deprived Himself of He gives to those who love Him ungrudgingly, who yield Him all. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V LII:212. See also B S1:87:128. No MSs; Valgrisi 88. Key |
