To My Guardian Angel,
Before the Blessed Sacrament
Hold my hand lest, over-timid,
I should flee so great a Sovereignty.
Prick my heart lest, too familiar,
I insult so great a Clemency.
Fix my eyes lest, too distracted,
I grow blind to such a Majesty.
Move my tongue lest, too lethargic,
I neglect such opportunity.
© 2001 by Paul Thigpen