How good it is to be here with you, Lord, close to the tabernacle!
How good it is to be here with you!
Why wouldn’t I come more often?
For years now I come to see you daily
And I always find you here, the loving solitary One…
Alone, poor, hidden, perhaps thinking about me…
You don’t say anything to me and
I don’t say anything to you,
Since you know everything already
What can I tell you?
You know all my sorrows, and all my joys.
You know that I come to see you with empty hands
And that I have nothing that you need.
Whenever I come to see you, I always find you alone.
Can it be that no one knows, Lord, that you are here? I don’t know.
But on the other hand, I do know
That even though no one would love you or give you thanks,
You will always be here, waiting for me…
Why wouldn’t I come more often?
How blind I am, how blind!
I know from experience that when I come to see you
I always come away changed. I always come away better…
And where could I go, my God,
When I don’t go to you, my God?
For you are always waiting for me.
You are always with me,
You have never closed the doors of your love to me…
For the sake of others, we travel on foot a long way.
Weary pilgrims come from afar,
Or pay great sums they will never recover.
But no one asks for you, hardly anyone pays attention to you.
If someone comes here, it is only because they were passing by.
Here you are the one who pays, if someone wants to come in…
Why wouldn’t I come more often if I realize that here at your side
I can find you, my God, whom I have sought so eagerly?
My light, my strength, my peace, my only good…
I have never sought you without finding you.
I have never suffered, I have never cried, Lord,
Without you crying with me.
Why wouldn’t I come more often, my beloved Jesus,
If you so desire it, if I so need it.
If I realize that I know nothing when I do not come to you.
Here you will teach me the knowledge of the saints,
That blessed knowledge that so many have learned here,
Because they were your friends, and are now with you.
Why wouldn’t I come more often,
Since I know that you are the model that my soul needs,
And that nothing will be hard if I look at you here.
The tabernacle is the cell where you dwell.
So poor, so obedient! So meek, so silent!
So alone, so hidden! So few take note of you!
Why wouldn’t I come more often, O infinite Goodness?
You are rich beyond compare. You need nothing.
And yet, you have humbled yourself to beg for my love!
Open this door to me! May this now be my life:
So forgotten, so hidden!
How good it is to be here with you!
How good it is to be here, Lord!