Faith is a faithful spouse.

Charity is a mother burning with devotion.

But hope is a very small girl.

I am, God says, Master of three virtues.

Charity is she who extends herself over the centuries.

But my little hope

is the one who each morning

says Good Day to us.

Faith it is who keeps watch down the ages;

Charity it is who keeps watch down the ages.

But little hope it is

who goes to bed every evening,

and who gets up each morning,

having slept soundly through the night.

Faith is a soldier, a captain who defends a fortress.

A town belonging to the King,

On the marches of Gascony, on the marches of Lorraine.

Charity is a doctor, a Little Sister of the poor,

Who nurses the sick, who nurses the wounded,

The poor subjects of the King,

On the marches of Gascony, on the marches of Lorraine.

But it is my little hope

Who says good-day to the poor man and the orphan.

Faith is a church, a cathedral rooted in the soil of France

Charity is a hospital, an alms-house which gathers up wretchedness of the world.

But without hope it would be nothing but a cemetery.

It is Faith who watches through centuries of centuries.

It is Charity who watches through centuries of centuries.

But it is my little hope

who lies down every evening

and gets up every morning

and really has very good nights.

It is my little hope

who goes to sleep every evening,

in her child’s bed,

after having said a good prayer,

and who wakes every morning and gets up

and says her prayers with new attention.

Faith is a great tree, an oak rooted in the heart of France,

And under the wings of that tree,

Charity, my daughter Charity shelters all the distress of the world.

And my little hope is only that little promise of a bud which shows itself at the very beginning of April.