How many saints our God has given To help us find the way to Heaven! Of some but little can be proved, Except how greatly they were loved. Count this as true: a King one day Set out to seek and hunt and slay The gentlest creature God has made To add more beauty to a glade. Will no one save the harmless doe? Her instinct told her where to go - A cave where she was wont to give Her milk to help a hermit live. The hermit sheltered with his hand A beast he taught to understand Not all the human race are foe To God's defenceless, gentle doe. As Christ's own hands, upon the Tree, Were pierced for love of you and me, An arrow pierced the hand that strove To do this simple act of love. For Abbot Giles, and all who seek, For love of God to help the weak, Who go to those who need us most: Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!