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 Thou art the source of my knowledge, the object of my contemplation, the foundation of my prudence: may my heart, which Thou hast made and given me that I might understand Thy unfathomable mercies, ever adore Thee, ever bless Thee.

Thou art my life and my happiness: may my soul, which Thou hast created according to Thy own likeness, and hast infused into my body in order that it might merit Thy grace, and the inestimable blessing of glory in Thy kingdom: even though it be sinful, may my soul ever bless Thee.

O Lord my God, my beloved, I thirst for Thee, I hunger for Thee, I desire Thee, I long for Thee; with all the powers of my body and with all the yearnings of my soul I strive after Thee. As a mother will sit weeping at the tomb of an only son, so I, not as much as I desire, but as much as I can, sit weeping, as I think of Thy Passion, as I think of Thy buffetings, as I think of Thy stripes, as I think of Thy cross and of Thy wounds, how Thou didst die for me, and of how and where Thou wast buried. With Mary I sit weeping at the tomb — the tomb that is my mind— where faith has buried Thee, where hope seeks to