I AM, God says, Master of the Three Virtues.
Charity is a fervent mother.
But hope is a very little girl.
But it is my little hope
Who gets up every morning.
It is Charity who yields through century upon century.
But it is my little hope
Who every morning
Says good-day to us.
A town belonging to the King,
On the marches of Gascony, on the marches of Lorraine.
Charity is a doctor, a Little Sister of the poor,
Who nurses the sick, who nurses the wounded,
The poor subjects of the King,
On the marches of Gascony, on the marches of Lorraine.
But it is my little hope
Who says good-day to the poor man and the orphan.
Charity is a hospital, an alms-house which gathers up all the
wretchedness of the world.
But without hope it would be nothing but a cemetery.
I am, God says, the Lord of the Virtues.