Heart of my heart, Breath of my breath,
I abandon myself into your hands;
Do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank You:
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
and in all your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Blessed One.
Into your hands I commend my soul;
I offer it to You with all the love of my heart;
For I love You, and so need to give myself,
To surrender myself into your Hands,
without reserve,
And with boundless confidence,
For You are the Heart of my heart.
The earth is not a mere fragment of dead history, a stratum upon stratum like the leaves of a book, to be studied by biologists and antiquarians chiefly, but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which precede flowers and fruit — not a fossil earth but a living earth.