Sonnet of Christ to St. Cecilia

Sing, Cecilia, sing the vespers of your heart,
And alleviate the sorrows of my soul.
I daily wander to Gethsemane,
Reliving there the aching of my heart.
And I retrace the trails with bloodied soles
Onward, onward, up to my cruel Calvary.
But, ah, there stands just one beneath my tree
Of truth; there stands just one—stand with her.
She, whom my heart desires—it is she.
Her beating heart is song; her breathing, hymns;
Her eyes, like stars in heaven’s velvet sea,
Intone their twinkling tunes. And my limbs
And bones that writhe in pain shall painless be
If you shall sing your songs to comfort her.