• CFR Sisters

First Fruits


The laden heart’s load—

sheaves labor-bought

through battering, sun-burnt days,

clusters culled

by long, drenched toil,

sweet dripping from the vine.


In gathered, the first fruits,

bushel, bale, work and savored

rest in the evening breeze,

joy, contentment,

grief and fear entwined,

all-woven through,

with more-than-golden

thread. See love!


The Gardener comes surveying

heaps of words and prayers,

deeds done for Him.

Through storehouses He wanders,

where love alone

captures His gaze. Love

seeing love, knows His beloved,

small yet akin; He tarries here.


Ah! This refreshment He seeks,

the harvest-fruit desired.

May He bless its growth within

until the yield be reaped rejoicing—

and laid at His feet?

No, it shall be gathered

in His arms.



Sr. Cecilia Francis, CFR