Through humble birth in a picturesque place;
Your life was planned to be hectic pace,
An angel from heaven filled with compassion and love;
You must have come down on the wings of a dove,
A journey through a world full of struggle and strife;
Unselfishly to humanity you offered your life.
Your mission to live with ‘the poorest of poor’;
To suffer with them without shedding a tear,
Your ‘Habit’ was gone, now sari white and blue;
Your crusade to help, both strong and true,
Early days fraught with struggle and pain;
You soldiered on through storm and rain.
‘The poverty of the cross’ was destined for you;
A burden the Lord trusts with only a few,
With showers of blessing direct from above;
Your doubts were transformed to belief and love,
Your mission beyond compare and parity;
The chosen name ‘Missionaries of Charity’.
In the ‘City of Joy’ with nothing to gain;
You set out to work amid suffering and pain,
A destitute child would see love in your eyes;
You sheltered those whose roofs were the skies,
You tended to lepers, helped the needy and yet;
Offered the aged abandoned, ‘dignity in death’.
Bad health was to slow you; you wanted to stop;
Your flock wasn’t ready, you remained at the top,
Recognition plenty, awards manifold;
Of compassion and love your stories were told,
For God’s work you were the chosen one;
Too soon he decided your work here was done.
You were chosen and sent, so it doesn’t seem odd;
That you left behind; “Something beautiful for God”.