Why Not Forty Days of Christmastide?
O My Jesus, I bow before you, sinful and negligent,
speaking and acting without giving either sufficient thought
sometimes. Quiet my soul. Stomp all over my pride. Mold me:
disturb my indifference. Change my arrogance to humility.
I love your gift of mystical sights, sounds, feelings—
like the touch of my guardian angel on my shoulder,
as I pray after I receive Your Body at Holy Mass.
Visions can never equal your friendship.
I am weak. I know you are a strong friend. Help me
to love you more today than yesterday, still more tomorrow.
I want to yield my will to you more than I have ever done.
I want you to live in me, to act though me.
Help me love my brothers and sisters and to serve them
for your sake. Use me, Lord. This is my prayer.
Use my arms to lift high those who mourn;
stretch my hands to feed the hungry. Change that which is
slothful in me into that which loves to give.
You use those with willing hearts; you can use me.
Only you can transform me for your use. O Holy God,
you are in every current of uplifting air.