The poem
Laybrother of the Society of Jesus
Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say; And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field, And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day. On Christ they do and on the martyr may; But be the war within, the brand we wield Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled, Earth hears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent, Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment, Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more) Could crowd career with conquest while there went Those years and years by of world without event That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
I read this poem after having read the biography of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, and it moves in ways unexpressable. This man's entire life was like that of Job, and yet never was his love for Christ whithered, never was his flame blown out. I pray earnestly, in this time of need, when things may be taken from me instead of given, that I too will reflect Christ's undying love for us.