To obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams: promise unto the Lord your God, and keep it.
I truly imagined that I was vowing to the Lord; and I had heard that God was love, and that therefore it must be sweet to obey His voice, and so I willingly vowed unto the Lord in these words:
1. I vow _holy poverty_, that I will possess nothing as my own, or receive aught, save at the hands of my Superiors, or with their permission. So help me, God. Amen.
2. I vow _holy chastity_ during the time of my noviciate. So help me, God. Amen.
3. I vow entire, unquestioning, and absolute obedience to the Father and Mother Superior, during the term of my noviciate. So help me, God. Amen.
My bridal veil was then removed, and my hair cut off quite short; then I retired, and put on the serge habit of a nun, and came back, and I had placed upon me the scapular of obedience, the cord of chastity, and the sandals of poverty. Besides these, I again put on the nun’s veil and bridal wreath. My companion and myself were then given new names. I, Jane Mary Povey, was called “Sister Mary Agnes of the Holy Child Jesus”; Florence S⸺ was called “Sister Mary Wereburgh of the Blessed Sacrament.”
The following hymn was then sung, which I must give in full, as it affords such an insight into the _delusion_ of convent life. I believe Father Ignatius is the writer of this hymn:
Farewell, thou world of sorrow, Unrest, unpeace, and strife; I leave thee for the threshold Of the celestial life.
Farewell, world of sadness; Farewell, earthly joys; Lo! my heart is seeking Bliss that never cloys.
Strains of heavenly music, Sights surpassing fair, Steal upon my senses, Fall upon mine ear.
Joy of ageless gladness, Peace that none can tell, Banishes all sadness, Satisfies me well.
Languishing for Jesus, Longing for His love; Thus I’ll journey onwards, To my home above.
Body, soul, and spirit, To my Lord I give; Yearning to behold Him, Dying whilst I live.
In the lone, still night-watch, ’Mid the noon-tide light, Yearns my soul for Jesus; Here it seems all night.
Pant I for the morning, And the day-star’s gleam, When in endless sunshine Dies earth’s weary dream.
Upwards, then, and onwards, Soars my joyful soul Jesus’ arms are open, Jesus’ heart my goal.