PREACHER

Your compassion flows across her heart
As every sacrifice must speak itself;
The more beautiful in its gifts
Into their thirsty hollows
And still others,
Will open their wrenching wounds
To lay them
Like broken seashells,
For your mending.
And deep beyond the parish wall
Vestments laid aside
In saddened, wearied heap,
Only love will hear
When your soul cries out--
SANCTUS! SANCTUS! SANCTUS!