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“7 loved thee ere the skies were spread; 
My soul bears all thy pains; 
To gain thy love, My Sacred Heart 
In earthly shrines remains; 
Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs. 
Without one gift divine: 
Give it, my child, thy heart to Me, 
And it shall rest in Mine!” 
—Adelaide Procter. 
“The briers of sin and care 
O’ergrow the mount of prayer— 
Contrite ’mid suffering. 
If to the Cross we cling, 
As clung the thorny vine, 
Round it our lives entwine:— 
Bathed in the blessed flood 
Of Jesus’ Precious Blood, 
All human joys and woes 
Shall blossom as the rose. 
Love's symbol true thou art, 
Rose of the Sacred Heart!” 
— Anon. 
