Would I Might Wake St. Francis In You All, Brother Of Birds And Trees, God'S Troubadour, Blinded With Weeping For The Sad And Poor; Our Wealth Undone, All Strict Franciscan Men, Come, Let Us Chant The Canticle Again Of Mother Earth And The Enduring Sun. God Make Each Soul The Lonely Leper'S Slave; God Make Us Saints, And Brave.