WHAT IT MEANS TO ME
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words can also hurt me.
Sticks and stones break only skin,
while words are ghosts that haunt me.
Slant and curved the word-swords fall
to pierce and stick inside me,
Bats and bricks may ache through bones,
But words can mortify me.
Pain from words has left its scar
On mind and heart that's tender.
Cuts and bruises now have healed;
It's words that I remember.
Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred let me show peace,
where there is injury let me sow pardon,
where there is doubt let me sow faith,
where there is despair let me give hope,
where there is darkness let me give light,
where there is sadness let me give joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may
not try to be comforted but to comfort,
not try to be understood, but to understand,
not try to be loved, but to love.
Because it is in giving that we receive,
it is in forgiving that we are forgiven,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.