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Each of my grandmothers carried the Prayer of St Francis with them.
One grandmother, rather religious had the prayer typed on a 3x5 card and kept in a little box of things. The other grandmother was not so religious in tradition but lived the spirit of any religion. I found her card by her bedside when home for her funeral last summer. I now carry the prayer in my wallet.
Oh Lord make me an instrument of thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
and Where there is sadness, joy.
Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much
seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born into eternal life.