The memoirs of sister lucia

Go and tell heaven to arrest The flowing torrent of its grace, Let the flowers wilt and wither They no longer bespeak your care Go, I am too disconsolate My sanctuary all in mourning, High up in the towering steeple The bronze bell tolls out death.

But you leave me sad and lonely In the churchyard grey and grim, Carved out on the black of your tombstone I leave my eternal laments.

This garden today is so bare, But once all smiling and gay, No care did it lack before, ’Twas the gardener who left it to die.

I trust in Providence bestowing Tender caresses to come!

Hopefully prepared for everyone, All who leave the homely nest.

11. Francisco, the Little Moralist The women of the neighbourhood no sooner heard the lively singing than they came over to join us, and at the end they asked us to sing it through again. Francisco, however, came up to me and said: “Let’s not sing that song any more. Our Lord certainly does not want us to sing things like that now.” We therefore slipped away among the other children, and ran off to our favourite well.

To tell the truth, now that I have just finished writing out the song under obedience, I cover my face with shame. But Your Excellency, at the request of Rev. Dr. Galamba, has seen fit to order me to write down the popular songs that we knew. Here they are then! I do not know why they are wanted, but for me it is enough to know that I am thus fulfilling God’s will.

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