"The wounded hands of Jesus,
outstretched to me entreat,
who, running, fall before Him
to kiss His wounded feet.
So barefoot, as a beggar,
may I thy bride, Lord, be.
I lay my hand in Thine, Lord,
for I belong to Thee."
St. Clare is the little plant of St. Francis, as she called herself. A blog to my call to become a Poor Clare Colettine. If St. Clare was a "little plant", I am a scraggly weed.