A design
WHEN I read certain treatises where perfection is set forth as encompassed by a thousand obstacles, my poor little head grows weary very quickly. I close the learned book which puzzles my brains and dries up my heart, and in its stead I open the Holy Scriptures. Then all appears clear, luminous . . . one single word discloses to my soul infinite horizons, perfection seems easy. I see that it is sufficient to recognize our nothingness, and to leave oneself like a child, in the arms of the good God. Let great souls and sublime intellects enjoy the beautiful books which I cannot understand, still less put in practice; I rejoice in being little, since "children only and those who resemble them will be admitted to the Heavenly banquet." [1]
It is well that the Kingdom of Heaven contains many mansions, for if there were none other than those of which the description and the way seem incomprehensible to me, I should never be able to enter therein.
VI LETTER TO HER MISSIONARY "BROTHERS"
[1] Cf. Matt., xix, 14.
MY patrons in Heaven and my chosen favourites are those who have stolen it—like the Holy Innocents and the Good Thief. The great Saints have earned it by their works; as for me, I will imitate the thieves, I will have it by ruse, a ruse of Love which will open its gates to me and to poor sinners. The Holy Ghost encourages me, saying in the Book of Proverbs: "O little one, come, learn subtlety of me." [2]
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
[2] Cf. Prov., i, 4.
OUR Lord replied to the mother of the sons of Zebedee: "To sit on My right and on My left hand is for them for whom it is prepared by My Father." [3] I imagine that those places of choice, refused to great Saints, to Martyrs, will be the portion of little children.
Did not David predict it when he said that the little Benjamin will preside amidst the assemblies (of the saints)? [4]
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
[3] Cf. Matt., xx, 23.
[4] Cf. Ps., lxvii, 29.
"IF you could begin your religious life over again" asked a novice, "what would you do?"
"It seems to me that I would do as I have done."
"You do not then feel like the hermit who used to say: 'Even though I had lived long years in penance yet I should fear damnation while there still remained to me one quarter of an hour, one breath of life.'
"No, I cannot share that fear, I am too little to be damned, little children are not damned."
"You always seek to be like the little ones—but tell us what we must do to possess the spirit of childhood? What does it exactly mean—to remain little?
"To remain little—it is to recognize our nothingness, to expect everything from the good God, not to be too much afflicted about our faults, for little children fall often but are too small to hurt themselves much: in fine, it is not to make one's fortune, nor to be disquieted about anything. Even in the homes of the poor, as long as a child is quite little they give him what is needful; but when grown up, the father is no longer willing to support him and says: 'Now work! you can provide for yourself.' Well, it was to escape hearing that, that I have never wished to grow up, for I know myself incapable of earning my livelihood—Eternal Life!
"Again, to remain little is not to attribute to self the virtues we practise; but to acknowledge that the good God places this treasure in the hand of His little child to be made use of when required."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
BE not afraid to tell Jesus that you love Him; even though it be without feeling, this is the way to oblige Him to help you, and carry you like a little child too feeble to walk.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
IT is a great trial to see only the black side of things, but that does not depend completely upon you. Do your best to detach your heart from the cares of this world, and above all from creatures; then you may be sure that Jesus will do the rest. He could not suffer you to fall into the abyss. Be comforted, little one, in Heaven you will no longer see all black but all white; yes, all will be clothed with the divine whiteness of our Spouse, the Lily of the Valley. Together we shall follow Him whithersoever He goeth . . . Oh! let us profit by the brief moments of this life to give pleasure to Jesus, let us win souls for Him by our sacrifices. Above all let us be little, so little that all the world may trample us under foot without even our appearing to feel it or to suffer from it.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
YOU are wrong to find fault with one thing and another, and to seek that all should yield to your way of viewing things. We want to be like little children, and little children know not what is best, to them all seems well; let us imitate them. Besides there would be no merit [in obedience] were we only to do what would appear reasonable to us.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
A NOVICE under a temptation which seemed to her insurmountable said: "This time I cannot rise above it—it is impossible." Thérèse replied: "Why do you try to rise above it? Pass beneath it quite simply. It is very well for great souls to soar high above the clouds when the storm is raging, but for us, we have merely to bear the showers with patience. If we do get rather wet—no matter! We shall dry ourselves afterwards in the sunshine of Love.
"That brings to mind this little trait of my childhood; a horse one day standing at the garden gate barred our entrance; those with me endeavoured by force of talking, etc., to get him to move back, but while they talked I very quietly slipped in, through the horse's legs . . . See how one may gain by remaining little!"
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
TO a young Sister discouraged at seeing her imperfections, Sœur Thérèse said: "You make me think of a very little child who is just able to stand upright but does not yet know how to walk. Intent upon reaching the top of the stairs so as to get back to his mother he lifts his foot to climb the first step. Fruitless endeavour! At each attempt he falls without advancing in the least. Well, be like that little child; by the practice of every virtue keep on ever lifting your little foot to climb the steps of sanctity, and do not imagine that you will be able to mount even the first! No; but good will is all God requires of you. From the top of those steps He is watching you with love; and won by your unavailing efforts He will Himself soon come down, and taking you in His arms will bear you away to His Kingdom, never more to quit Him. But if you cease to lift your little foot He will leave you a long time on earth."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
THE only means of making rapid progress in the path of Love is to remain always very little; that is what I have done; so now I can sing with our Father St. John of the Cross:
And stooping so low, so low,
I rose still higher and higher
And thus I attained my end.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
SOME one was speaking to her of the mortifications of the Saints, she replied:
"It is well our Lord has let us know that there are many mansions in His Father's House, that if not He would have told us. [5] Yes, if all souls called to perfection had been obliged to practise these macerations in order to enter Heaven, He would have said so, and gladly would we have undertaken them. But He tells us that in His House there are many mansions. If there are those for great souls, for the Fathers of the Desert and for martyrs of penance, there must be one also for little children. Our place is reserved there, if our love be great—for Him and for our Heavenly Father and the Spirit of Love."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
[5] Cf. John, xiv, 2.
"I feel that my mission is now to begin," she said a few days before her death, "my mission to make others love the good God as I love Him, to give my little way to souls. . ."
"What is this 'little way' that you want to teach to souls?"
"It is the path of spiritual childhood, it is the way of trust and of entire self-surrender. I want to make known to them the simple means that have so perfectly succeeded for me, to tell them that there is but one only thing to do here below: to cast down before Jesus the flowers of little sacrifices, to win Him by caresses! That is how I have won Him, and that is why I shall be so well received."
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
IF I am misguiding you by my little way of Love, she said to a novice, do not fear that I shall let you follow it very long. I shall appear to you, and tell you to take another path; but if I do not return, believe in the truth of my words: never can we have too much confidence in the good God, so mighty and so merciful! As much as we hope for shall we obtain from Him! . . .
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
A NOVICE said to her on the eve of the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel: "If you were to die to-morrow after Holy Communion, it seems to me that so beautiful a death would console me in the midst of my grief."
And Thérèse replied with animation:
"Die after Holy Communion! On a grand Feast day! No, it will not be so: little souls could not copy that. In my little way there are only quite ordinary things; all that I do, little souls must be able to do also."
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
A design
AS I grew older I loved the good God more and more, and very frequently did I offer Him my heart, using the words my mother had taught me. I strove in all my actions to please Jesus and was most watchful never to offend Him.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. II
MY whole strength lies in prayer and sacrifice, these are my invincible arms; they can move hearts far better than words, I know it by experience.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. X
GREAT is the power of prayer—a queen, as one might say, having free access always to the King, and able to obtain whatever she asks. In order to be heard, it is not necessary to read from a book a beautiful form of prayer adapted to the circumstances; if it were so, how greatly to be pitied should I be!
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. X
I HAVE not the courage to force myself to seek beautiful prayers in books; not knowing which to choose I act as children do who cannot read; I say quite simply to the good God what I want to tell Him, and He always understands me.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. X
PRAYER is, for me, an outburst from the heart; it is a simple glance darted upwards to Heaven; it is a cry of gratitude and of love in the midst of trial as in the midst of joy! In a word, it is something exalted, supernatural, which dilates the soul and unites it to God. Sometimes when I find myself, spiritually, in dryness so great that I cannot produce a single good thought, I recite very slowly a Pater or an Ave Maria; these prayers alone console me, they suffice, they nourish my soul.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. X
THE principal plenary indulgence and one which all may gain without the ordinary conditions, is that of charity which covereth a multitude of sins. [1]
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
[1] Prov., x, 12.
FORMERLY if any of my family were in trouble, and that I had been unable to succeed in comforting them during their visit, I would go from the parlour heart-broken; but soon Jesus made me understand that I was incapable of giving consolation to a soul. From that day forth I grieved no more when anyone went away sad; I confided to the good God the sorrows of those who were dear to me, feeling certain that He heard me, and at their next visit I used to find that it had indeed been so. Since I have experienced this, I no longer torment myself when involuntarily I give pain; I simply beg of Jesus to make up for what I have done.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
ONE day after Holy Communion the good God made me understand those words of the Canticles: "Draw me: we will run offer Thee to the odour of Thy ointments." [2] O Jesus, it is not then necessary to say: In drawing me, draw the souls whom I love. These, simple words: "Draw me" suffice! Yes, when a soul has allowed herself to be captivated by the inebriating fragrance of Thy perfumes, she could not run alone, all the souls whom she loves are drawn after her; this is a natural consequence of her attraction towards Thee.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XI
[2] Cant., i, 3.
"DRAW me, we will run. . ."
To ask to be drawn is to will intimate union with the object which holds the heart captive. If fire and iron were gifted with reason, and that the latter said to the fire: "Draw me," would not this prove that it desired to become identified with the fire even so far as to share its substance? Well, that is exactly my prayer. I beg of Jesus to draw me into the flames of His Love, to unite me so closely to Himself that He may live and act in me. I feel that the more the fire of love inflames my heart, the more I shall say: "Draw me," the more also will the souls who draw near to mine run swiftly in the fragrant odours of the Well-Beloved.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XI
SOULS thus on fire cannot rest inactive. They may sit at the feet of Jesus, like Saint Mary Magdalene, listening to His sweet and ardent words; but, while seeming to give nothing, they do give far more than Martha who troubles herself with many things. [3] It is not however of Martha's labours that Jesus disapproves, but only her too great anxiety; to this very same work His Blessed Mother humbly submitted herself, when she had to prepare the repasts for the Holy Family.
All the Saints have understood this, and more especially perhaps those who have enlightened the world with the luminous teaching of the Gospel. Was it not from prayer that Saint Paul, Saint Augustine, Saint Thomas of Aquin, Saint John of the Cross, Saint Teresa and so many other friends of God drew that wondrous science which enraptures the greatest intellects?
Archimedes said: "Give me a lever and a fulcrum, and I will raise the world." What he was unable to obtain because his request had but a material end and was not addressed to God, the Saints have obtained in full measure. For fulcrum, the Almighty has given them Himself, Himself alone! for lever, prayer, which enkindles the fire of love; and thus it is that they have uplifted the world, thus it is that saints still militant, uplift it, and will uplift it till the end of time.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XI
[3] Luke, x, 41
THE Creator of the universe awaits the prayer of one poor little soul to save a multitude of others, redeemed like her at the price of His Blood.
Our vocation is not to go and reap in the Father's fields; Jesus does not say to us: "Cast down your eyes and reap the harvest"; our mission is still more sublime. Here are the words of the Divine Master: "Lift up your eyes and see. . ." see that in Heaven there are empty places; yours it is to fill them . . . you are as Moses praying on the mountain; ask of Me labourers and I will send them, I await but a prayer, a sigh from out your heart!
Is not the apostolate of prayer higher as one might say, than that of preaching? It is for us to form labourers who by preaching the Gospel, will save thousands of souls of whom we thus become the mothers; what then have we to envy the Priests of the Lord?
XII LETTER TO HER SISTER CÉLINE
HOW beautiful is our vocation! It is for us, it is for Carmel to preserve "the salt of the earth." [4] We offer our prayers and sacrifices for the apostles of the Lord; we ought ourselves to be their apostles while by word and example they preach the Gospel to our brethren.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VI
[4] Matt., v, 13.
A NOVICE was grieving about her numerous distractions during prayer: "I too, have many," replied Sœur Thérèse de l'Enfant Jésus, "but I accept all for love of the good God, even the most extravagant thoughts that come into my head."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
HER prayer was continual though she was habitually plunged in aridity. One day a novice entering her cell, paused, struck by the celestial expression of her countenance. She was sewing with alacrity yet seemed lost in profound contemplation.
"Of what are you thinking?" asked the young Sister. "I am meditating on the Pater," she replied. "It is so sweet to call the good God our Father." And tears shone in her eyes.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
I DO not well see what more I shall have in Heaven than now, she once said. I shall see the good God, it is true; but as to being with Him, I am wholly with Him already upon earth.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
A LIVING flame of Divine Love consumed her.
"A few days after my oblation to God's Merciful Love," she relates, "I had commenced in the Choir the Way of the Cross, when I felt myself suddenly wounded by a dart of fire so ardent that I thought I must die. I know not how to describe this transport; there is no comparison which would make one understand the intensity of that flame. An invisible power seemed to plunge me wholly into fire . . . but oh! what fire! what sweetness!"
The Mother Prioress asked her whether this transport was the first in her life, she answered simply:
"Mother, I have several times had transports of love; once especially during my novitiate when I remained one entire week far indeed from this world; for me, there was as it were, a veil thrown over all things of the earth. But I was not consumed by a real flame, I was able to sustain those delights without expecting that their intensity would cause my earthly fetters to snap asunder, whilst on the day of which I speak, one minute, one second more and my soul must have left its prison . . . Alas!—and I found myself again on earth, and aridity immediately returned to my heart!"
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. XII
A design
HOW sweet it was, the first kiss of Jesus to my soul! Yes, it was a kiss of Love. I felt I was loved, and I too said: "I love Thee, I give myself to Thee for ever!" Jesus asked nothing of me, demanded no sacrifice. Already for a long time past, He and the little Thérèse had watched and understood one another . . . That day our meeting was no longer a simple look but a fusion. No longer were we two: Thérèse had disappeared as the drop of water which loses itself in the depths of the ocean, Jesus alone remained; the Master, the King! Had not Thérèse begged Him to take away from her, her liberty? That liberty made her afraid; so weak, so fragile did she feel herself that she longed to be united for ever to Divine Strength.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IV
I HAD taken as my rule of conduct, to receive most faithfully Holy Communion as often as my confessor permitted, without ever asking that it might be more frequent. I would act differently now; for I am quite sure that a soul ought to make known to her director the attraction that she feels to receive her God. It is not to remain in a golden ciborium that He comes down each day from Heaven, but to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our soul in which He takes His delight.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. V
WHAT shall I say of my thanksgivings after Holy Communion? There are no moments in which I feel less consolation. And is not this very natural, seeing that my desire is to receive our Lord's visit, not for my own satisfaction, but solely for His pleasure.
I imagine my soul to be as a plot of waste ground and beg the Blessed Virgin to remove from it all the rubbish—meaning its imperfections; then I beseech her to erect thereon, a vast canopy worthy of Heaven and to decorate it with her own treasures, and I invite all the Angels and Saints to come and sing canticles of love. It seems to me then that Jesus is pleased to see Himself so magnificently received; and I, I share His joy. All this does not hinder distractions and sleep from molesting me; therefore it not rarely happens that I resolve to continue my thanksgiving all the day long, since I have made it so badly in the Choir.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VIII
AT the time of Holy Communion I sometimes picture my soul under the figure of a little child of three or four years, who at play has got its hair tossed and its clothes soiled.—These misfortunes have befallen me in battling with souls.—But very soon the Blessed Virgin hastens to my aid: quickly she takes off my little dirty pinafore, smooths my hair and adorns it with a pretty ribbon or simply with a little flower . . . and this suffices to render me pleasing and enables me to sit at the Banquet of Angels without blushing.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
THE demon, traitor that he is, knows well, that he cannot make a soul who wills to belong wholly to the good God, commit sin; therefore he endeavours only to persuade her that she sins. That is a great deal gained, but it is not yet enough to satisfy his rage . . . he aims at something further, he wants to deprive Jesus of a loved tabernacle. Not being able himself to enter into this sanctuary he wishes that it may at least remain empty and without its Lord. Alas! what will become of this poor heart? . . . When the devil has succeeded in driving away a soul from Holy Communion he has gained his ends, and Jesus weeps. . .
I LETTER TO HER COUSIN MARIE GUÉRIN
A NOVICE relates that she wanted to deprive herself of Holy Communion because of some lack of fidelity. She wrote her determination to Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus who thus replied:
"Little flower cherished by Jesus, it is amply sufficient that by the humiliation of your soul your roots eat of the earth . . . You must open a little, or rather raise on high your corolla so that the Bread of Angels may come as a divine dew to strengthen you, and to give you all that is wanting to you.
"Good-night, poor little floweret; ask of Jesus that all the prayers offered for my recovery may serve to augment the fire which must consume me."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
A design
[1] No reader should be discouraged by this chapter on Suffering. What Sœur Thérèse says is very consoling for those who are nailed to the Cross; and others must remember that God had given to His humble Servant a sensible attraction for suffering, which is a rare grace and reserved to very few souls, though many imagine they possess it, and mistake their road choosing to follow this supposed attraction. Without the sensible desire and even though experiencing an invincible repugnance to suffer, souls can be sanctified. What pleases God is that the suffering be borne with love.
THE cross has accompanied me from the cradle; but then, Jesus has made me love it passionately.
IX LETTER TO HER MISSIONARY "BROTHERS"
ONE day my sister Marie, speaking of suffering, said that instead of making me walk by that way, the good God would no doubt carry me always like a little child. These words recurred to me after Holy Communion on the following day, and my heart was fired with an ardent desire of suffering. I felt too an inward assurance, that crosses in great number were in reserve for me. Then my soul was inundated with consolations such as I have never had again in all my life. Suffering became my attraction, in it I found charms that entranced me.
Another great desire that I felt, was to love but God alone and to find no joy save only in Him. Often during my thanksgiving after Holy Communion I used to repeat this passage from the Imitation: "O Jesus, who art ineffable sweetness, turn for me into bitterness all the consolations of earth." [2] These words came from my lips without effort; I uttered them like a child who repeats without too well understanding, words prompted by a friend.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IV
[2] Imit., III, ch. xxvi, 3.
SUFFERING has held out its arms to me from my very entrance into Carmel and lovingly have I embraced it. My intention in coming here, I declared in the solemn examination which preceded my profession: I am come in order to save souls, and especially to pray for Priests. When we want to attain an end we must employ the means, and Jesus having made me understand that He would give me souls by means of the cross, the more crosses I met with the more my attraction to suffering increased. During five years this way was mine; but I alone knew it. Here was just the hidden flower that I wanted to offer to Jesus, this flower which exhaled its fragrance for Heaven alone.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VII
FOR one pain endured with joy, we shall love the good God more for ever.
I LETTER TO MÈRE AGNÈS DE JÉSUS
IN my soul's intercourse with Jesus—nothing . . . dryness! sleep! Since my Beloved wills to sleep I shall not hinder Him; I am too happy in seeing that He does not treat me like a stranger, that He is not constrained with me. He pierces His little ball through and through with pin-pricks sore indeed . . . When it is this tender Friend who Himself pierces His ball, the pain is naught but sweetness—so gentle is His Hand. How different when creatures pierce it!
Yet I am happy, yes, truly happy to suffer. If Jesus does not Himself directly pierce His little ball, it is certainly He who guides the hand that wounds!
II LETTER TO MÈRE AGNÈS DE JÉSUS
YES, I desire them, those heart-thrusts, those pin- pricks that give so much pain . . . Sacrifice I prefer to all ecstacies: therein lies happiness for me, I find it nowhere else. The little reed has no fear of breaking, for it is planted on the shore of the waters of Love; and so, when it bends, that beneficent wave invigorates it, and makes it long for another storm to come and bow down its head anew. My weakness it is, that makes my whole strength. Whatever happens I cannot get broken; I see only the gentle hand of Jesus.
To win the palm no suffering is too great.
III LETTER TO MÈRE AGNÈS DE JÉSUS
THE drop of gall must be mingled in every cup, but I find that trials greatly help to detach us from earth; they make us look higher than this world. Nothing here below can satisfy us; we can enjoy a little repose only by being ready to do God's Will.
I LETTER TO MÈRE AGNÈS DE JÉSUS
MY soul has known many kinds of trials, greatly have I suffered here on earth. In my childhood I suffered with sadness; now, it is with peace and joy that I taste of all the bitter fruits.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IX
SUFFERING united to love is the only thing that appears to me desirable in this vale of tears.
IX LETTER TO HER MISSIONARY "BROTHERS"
WHEN we are expecting only suffering the least joy surprises us: suffering itself becomes the greatest of joys when we seek it as a precious treasure.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IX
THERE are people who take everything in the way that gives them the most pain; with me it is the reverse; I see always the good side of things. If I have naught but pure suffering, without any break, well! I make of it my joy.
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
JOY is not in the things that surround us, it resides in the interior of the soul. One may possess it in the depths of a gloomy prison, as well as in a royal palace. Thus am I happier in Carmel, even in the midst of interior and exterior trials, than in the world, where nothing was wanting to me.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VI
IF now, amid trials, and in the thick of the fight, we can already find such delight in the thought that God has drawn us away from the world, what will it be, when in Heaven's eternal glory and never- ending rest, we shall understand the incomparable favour He has shown us in choosing us here, to dwell in His own House—the very threshold of Heaven.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. X
LET us not expect to find Love without Suffering. Our nature is there, and it is not there for nothing; but what treasures it enables us to acquire! It is our means of gain; so precious is it that Jesus came down upon earth expressly to possess it . . . We want to suffer generously, grandly; we wish never to fall; what illusion! And what does it matter to me if I fall every minute? I find great profit in it, for thereby I see my weakness. My God, You know what I am capable of unless You carry me in Your arms; and if You leave me alone, well; it is that it pleases you to see me on the ground, so why should I be disquieted?
V LETTER TO HER SISTER CÉLINE
LIFE is often irksome and bitter; it is hard to begin a laborious day, above all when Jesus hides Himself from us. What is this tender Friend doing? Does He not then see our anguish, the load that oppresses us; where is He? Why does He not come to console us?
Ah, fear not . . . He is there, quite near! He is watching us; He, it is, who begs for these our labours and our tears . . . He has need of them for souls, for our soul; He wants to give us so glorious a recompense. Ah! truly, it costs Him to make us drink of this bitter cup, but He knows that it is the one way by which to prepare us to know Him as He knows Himself and to become ourselves God-like. What a destiny! How great is the soul. Let us rise above all that passes away, let us hold aloof from the earth, up on high the air is so pure; Jesus may hide Himself but one is conscious of His presence.
I LETTER TO HER SISTER CÉLINE
WHEN we speak of peace we do not mean joy—not at least sensible joy; to suffer in peace it is enough that we truly will all that God wills.
V LETTER TO HER SISTER CÉLINE
NOTWITHSTANDING the trial which deprives me of every feeling of enjoyment I can yet exclaim, "Thou hast given me delight, O Lord, in all Thou dost." [3] For is there a greater joy than to suffer for Thy Love? The more intense the suffering and the less apparent to human eyes, the more lovingly dost Thou smile upon it, O my God. And even—supposing an impossibility—if Thou wert unaware of it, I would still be happy to suffer, in the hope that by my tears I might perhaps prevent, or make reparation for one single sin against faith.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IX
[3] Ps., xci, 5.
MINE is not an unfeeling heart, and it is just because of its capacity to suffer deeply that I desire to offer to Jesus every kind of suffering it can endure.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. IX
LIFE is full of sacrifices, it is true; but why look for happiness in it? Is it not simply "a night to be passed in a bad Inn" as says our Holy Mother Saint Teresa?
My heart has an ardent thirst for happiness, but well do I see that no creature is capable of allaying this thirst. On the contrary, the more I might drink of the waters of that enchanted spring the more burning would be my thirst.
I know a fountain where they that drink shall yet thirst, [4] but with a thirst most sweet, a thirst one can always satisfy; this fountain is the suffering that is known to Jesus alone! . . .
II LETTER TO SR. MARIE DU SACRÉ-CŒUR
[4] Cf. Eccles., xxiv, 29.