The Sacred Fry

In gardens blessed by sun and rain,
Where Sister Beatrice tilled the plain,
She grew her bounty, rich and deep,
And blessed the oil from harvest's keep.
Not just a medium, not just heat,
But living grace, both pure and sweet,
A vessel for the Spirit's flow,
Through golden streams of sacred glow.

Oh, Oil of Life, anoint us now!
Before the flame, we humbly bow!
You carry prayers, you hold the light,
Transform the humble, day and night!
From Sister Beatrice's cask you pour,
A blessing through the open door!

She carved the cask with loving hand,
With vines and wheat from blessed land.
Each drop was consecrated prayer,
Each rendering, an act of care.
"The oil absorbs our every plea,"
She taught with gentle certainty.
"And when it bubbles, hot and bright,
It shares the Spirit's healing might."

To those who doubted fat as grace,
She showed the truth in warmth's embrace.
"Anointing kings was done with oil,
Healing hands from endless toil.
The same that blessed the ancient priest,
Now makes our humble bread a feast.
The oil is not mere food or flame—
It sanctifies in Spirit's name!"

She shared the oil, though times were lean,
To make all hearts and bodies clean.
Not just the fried, but all who came,
Received her blessing in oil's name.
For Beatrice taught compassion's way,
That love must season every day.
The crispness matters, this is true,
But kindness makes all things made new.

Now when we pour the sacred fat,
We think of her, and honor that.
Each drop of oil, a prayer ascending,
Each bubble, grace forever sending.
The Vessel of Verdant Oil stands tall,
A reminder that God loves us all.
Through Beatrice's gift, we understand:
The oil anoints with gentle hand.

Oh, Oil of Life, anoint us now!
Before the flame, we humbly bow!
You carry prayers, you hold the light,
Transform the humble, day and night!
From Sister Beatrice's heart you pour,
A blessing through eternity's door!