Each morn You come to me at early Mass,
Your flesh and blood become my food and drink; And wonders are accomplished.
Your body permeates mine mysteriously,
I feel Your soul becoming one with mine:
I am no longer what I used to be.
You come and go, but still the seed remains Which You have sown for future splendor,
Hid in the body made from dust.
– St. Teresa Benedicta (Edith Stein)