I know that many Saints have passed their lives in the practice of amazing penance for the sake of expiating their sins. But what of that? "In my Father's house there are many mansions."[4] These are the words of Jesus, and therefore I follow the path He marks out for me; I try to be nowise concerned about myself and what Jesus deigns to accomplish in my soul.

VI

1897.

On this earth where everything changes, one thing alone does never change—our Heavenly King's treatment of His friends. From the day He raised the standard of the Cross, in its shadow all must fight and win. "The life of every missionary abounds in crosses," said Theophane Venard. And again: "True happiness consists in suffering, and in order to live we must die."

Rejoice, my Brother, that the first efforts of your Apostolate are stamped with the seal of the Cross. Far more by suffering and by persecution than by eloquent discourses does Jesus wish to build up His Kingdom.

You are still—you tell me—a little child who cannot speak. Neither could Father Mazel, who was ordained with you, and yet he has already won the palm . . . Far beyond our thoughts are the thoughts of God! When I learnt that this young missionary had died before he had set foot on the field of his labours, I felt myself drawn to invoke him. I seemed to see him amidst the glorious Martyr choir. No doubt, in the eyes of men he does not merit the title of Martyr, but in the eyes of God this inglorious death is no less precious than the sacrifice of him who lays down his life for the Faith.

Though one must be exceeding pure before appearing in the sight of the All-Holy God, still I know that He is infinitely just, and this very Justice which terrifies so many souls is the source of all my confidence and joy. Justice is not only stern severity towards the guilty; it takes account of the good intention, and gives to virtue its reward. Indeed I hope as much from the Justice of God as from His Mercy. It is because He is just, that "He is compassionate and merciful, longsuffering, and plenteous in mercy. For He knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we are dust. As a father hath compassion on his children, so hath the Lord compassion on us."[5]

O my Brother, after these beautiful and consoling words of the Royal Prophet, how can we doubt God's power to open the gates of His Kingdom to His children who have loved Him unto perfect sacrifice, who have not only left home and country so as to make Him known and loved, but even long to lay down their lives for Him? . . . Jesus said truly there is no greater love than this. Nor will He be outdone in generosity. How could He cleanse in the flames of Purgatory souls consumed with the fire of Divine Love?

I have used many words to express my thought, and yet I fear I have failed. What I wish to convey is, that in my opinion all missionaries are Martyrs by will and desire, and not even one should pass through the purifying flames.

This, then, is what I think about the Justice of God; my own way is all confidence and love, and I cannot understand those souls who are afraid of so affectionate a Friend. Sometimes, when I read books in which perfection is put before us with the goal obstructed by a thousand obstacles, my poor little head is quickly fatigued. I close the learned treatise, which tires my brain and dries up my heart, and I turn to the Sacred Scriptures. Then all becomes clear and lightsome—a single word opens out infinite vistas, perfection appears easy, and I see that it is enough to acknowledge our nothingness, and like children surrender ourselves into the Arms of the Good God. Leaving to great and lofty minds the beautiful books which I cannot understand, still less put in practice, I rejoice in my littleness because "only little children and those who are like them shall be admitted to the Heavenly banquet."[6] Fortunately—"there are many mansions in my Father's House":[7] if there were only those—to me—incomprehensible mansions with their baffling roads, I should certainly never enter there . . .

VII

July 13, 1897.

Your soul is too great to cling to the consolations of earth, and even now its abode should be in Heaven, for it is written: "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."[8] Is not Jesus your only treasure? Now that He is in Heaven, it is there your heart should dwell. This sweet Saviour has long since forgotten your infidelities. He sees only your longing after perfection, and the sight makes glad His Heart.

Stay no longer at His Feet, I beseech you, but follow this first impulse to throw yourself into His Arms. Your place is there, and I see clearly—more clearly than in your former letters—that all other heavenly route is barred to you save the way your little sister treads.

I hold with you when you say that the Heart of Jesus is more grieved by the thousand little imperfections of His friends than by the faults, even grave, which His enemies commit. Yet it seems to me, dear Brother, it is only when those who are His own are habitually guilty of want of thought, and neglect to seek His pardon, that He can say: "These Wounds which you see in the midst of My Hands, I have received in the house of those who love Me."[9] But His Heart thrills with you when He had to deal with all those who truly love, and who after each little fault come to fling themselves into His Arms imploring forgiveness. He says to His Angels what the prodigal's father said to his servants: "Put a ring upon his finger, and let us rejoice."[10] O Brother! Verily the Divine Heart's Goodness and Merciful Love are little known! It is true that to enjoy these treasures we must humble ourselves, must confess our nothingness . . . and here is where many a soul draws back.

VIII

1897.

What attracts me towards our Heavenly Home is the Master's call—the hope of loving Him at last to the fulfilling of all my desire—the thought that I shall be able to win Him the love of a multitude of souls, who will bless Him through all eternity.

I have never asked God that I might die young—that to me were a cowardly prayer; but from my childhood He has deigned to inspire me with a strong conviction that my life would be a short one.

I feel we must tread the same road to Heaven—the road of suffering and love. When I myself have reached the port, I will teach you how best to sail the world's tempestuous sea—with the self-abandonment of a child well aware of a father's love, and of his vigilance in the hour of danger.

I long so much to make you understand the expectant love of the Heart of Jesus. Your last letter has made my own heart thrill sweetly. I learnt how closely your soul is sister to mine, since God calls that soul to mount to Himself by the lift of love, without climbing the steep stairway of fear. I am not surprised you find it hard to be familiar with Jesus—one cannot become so in a day; but this I do know, I shall aid you much more to tread this beautiful path when I lay aside the burden of this perishable body. Ere long you will exclaim with St. Augustine: "Love is my lodestone!"

IX

July 26, 1897.

When you read these few lines I shall perhaps be no more. I know not the future; yet I can confidently say that my Spouse is at the door. It would need a miracle to keep me in exile, and I do not think that Jesus will work that miracle—He does nothing that is of no avail.

Brother, I am so happy to die! Yes, happy . . . not because I shall be free from suffering: on the contrary, suffering combined with love seems the one thing worthy of desire in this vale of tears; but happy to die because far more than on earth I shall help the souls I hold dear.

Jesus has always treated me as a spoilt child. . . . It is true that His Cross has been with me from the cradle, but for that Cross He has given me a passionate love . . .

X

August 14, 1897.

I am about to go before God, and I understand now more than ever that one thing only is needful—to work for Him alone, and do nothing for self or creatures. Jesus wishes to own your heart completely. Before this can be, you will have much to suffer . . . but oh! what joy when comes the happy hour of going Home! I shall not die—I do but enter into Life . . . and whatsoever I cannot tell you here upon earth I will make you understand from the heights of Heaven. . . .

[1] Matt. 26:39.

[2] Isa. 9:6.

[3] This letter and the following are addressed to a Seminarist. [Ed.]

[4] John 14:2.

[5] Ps. 102[103]:8, 14, 13.

[6] Cf. Matt. 19:14.

[7] John 14:2.

[8] Luke 12:34.

[9] Cf. Zach. 13:6.

[10] Cf. Luke 15:22.



PRAYERS OF SOEUR THERESE, THE LITTLE FLOWER OF JESUS



AN ACT OF OBLATION AS A VICTIM OF DIVINE LOVE

This Prayer was found after the death of Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face in the copy of the Gospels which she carried night and day close to her heart.

O my God, O Most Blessed Trinity, I desire to love Thee and to make Thee loved—to labour for the glory of Holy Church by saving souls here upon earth and by delivering those suffering in Purgatory. I desire to fulfill perfectly Thy Holy Will, and to reach the degree of glory Thou hast prepared for me in Thy Kingdom. In a word, I wish to be holy, but, knowing how helpless I am, I beseech Thee, my God, to be Thyself my holiness.

Since Thou hast loved me so much as to give me Thy Only-Begotten Son to be my Saviour and my Spouse, the infinite treasures of His merits are mine. Gladly do I offer them to Thee, and I beg of Thee to behold me only through the Eyes of Jesus, and in His Heart aflame with love. Moreover, I offer Thee all the merits of the Saints both of Heaven and of earth, together with their acts of love, and those of the holy Angels. Lastly, I offer Thee, O Blessed Trinity, the love and the merits of the Blessed Virgin, my dearest Mother—to her I commit this Oblation, praying her to present it to Thee.

During the days of His life on earth her Divine Son, my sweet Spouse, spake these words: "If you ask the Father anything in My Name, He will give it you."[1] Therefore I am certain Thou wilt fulfill my longing. O my God, I know that the more Thou wishest to bestow, the more Thou dost make us desire. In my heart I feel boundless desires, and I confidently beseech Thee to take possession of my soul. I cannot receive Thee in Holy Communion as often as I should wish; but, O Lord, art Thou not all-powerful? Abide in me as Thou dost in the Tabernacle—never abandon Thy Little Victim. I long to console Thee for ungrateful sinners, and I implore Thee to take from me all liberty to sin. If through weakness I should chance to fall, may a glance from Thine Eyes straightway cleanse my soul, and consume all my imperfections—as fire transforms all things into itself.

I thank Thee, O my God, for all the graces Thou hast granted me: especially for having purified me in the crucible of suffering. At the Day of Judgment I shall gaze on Thee with joy, as Thou bearest Thy sceptre of the Cross. And since Thou hast deigned to give me this precious Cross as my portion, I hope to be like unto Thee in Paradise and to behold the Sacred Wounds of Thy Passion shine on my glorified body.

After earth's exile I trust to possess Thee in the Home of our Father; but I do not seek to lay up treasures in Heaven. I wish to labour for Thy Love alone—with the sole aim of pleasing Thee, of consoling Thy Sacred Heart, and of saving souls who will love Thee through eternity.

When comes the evening of life, I shall stand before Thee with empty hands, because I do not ask Thee, my God, to take account of my works. All our works of justice are blemished in Thine Eyes. I wish therefore to be robed with Thine own Justice, and to receive from Thy Love the everlasting gift of Thyself. I desire no other Throne, no other Crown but Thee, O my Beloved!

In Thy sight time is naught—"one day is a thousand years."[2] Thou canst in a single instant prepare me to appear before Thee.

* * * * * * *

In order that my life may be one Act of perfect Love, I offer myself as a Victim of Holocaust to Thy Merciful Love, imploring Thee to consume me unceasingly, and to allow the floods of infinite tenderness gathered up in Thee to overflow into my soul, that so I may become a very martyr of Thy Love, O my God! May this martyrdom, after having prepared me to appear in Thy Presence, free me from this life at the last, and may my soul take its flight—without delay—into the eternal embrace of Thy Merciful Love!

* * * * * * *

O my Beloved, I desire at every beat of my heart to renew this Oblation an infinite number of times, "till the shadows retire,"[3] and everlastingly I can tell Thee my love face to face.

MARY FRANCES TERESA OF THE CHILD JESUS AND OF THE HOLY FACE.

The ninth of June, Feast of the Most Blessed Trinity, In the year of grace, 1895.

A MORNING PRAYER

O my God! I offer Thee all my actions of this day for the intentions and for the glory of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I desire to sanctify every beat of my heart, my every thought, my simplest works, by uniting them to Its infinite merits; and I wish to make reparation for my sins by casting them into the furnace of Its Merciful Love.

O my God! I ask of Thee for myself and for those whom I hold dear, the grace to fulfil perfectly Thy Holy Will, to accept for love of Thee the joys and sorrows of this passing life, so that we may one day be united together in Heaven for all Eternity. Amen.

AN ACT OF CONSECRATION TO THE HOLY FACE

Written for the Novices

O Adorable Face of Jesus, since Thou hast deigned to make special choice of our souls, in order to give Thyself to them, we come to consecrate these souls to Thee. We seem, O Jesus, to hear Thee say: "Open to Me, My Sisters, My Spouses, for My Face is wet with the dew, and My Locks with the drops of the night."[4] Our souls understand Thy language of love; we desire to wipe Thy sweet Face, and to console Thee for the contempt of the wicked. In their eyes Thou art still "as it were hidden . . . they esteem Thee an object of reproach."[5]

O Blessed Face, more lovely than the lilies and the roses of the spring, Thou art not hidden from us. The tears which dim Thine Eyes are as precious pearls which we delight to gather, and, through their infinite value, to purchase the souls of our brethren.

From Thy Adorable Lips we have heard Thy loving plaint: "I thirst." Since we know that this thirst which consumes Thee is a thirst for love, to quench it we would wish to possess an infinite love.

Dear Spouse of our souls, if we could love with the love of all hearts, that love would be Thine. . . . Give us, O Lord, this love! Then come to thy Spouses and satisfy Thy Thirst.

And give to us souls, dear Lord . . . We thirst for souls!—Above all for the souls of Apostles and Martyrs . . . that through them we may inflame all poor sinners with love of Thee.

O Adorable Face, we shall succeed in winning this grace from Thee! Unmindful of our exile, "by the rivers of Babylon," we will sing in Thine Ears the sweetest of melodies. Since Thou art the true and only Home of our souls, our songs shall not be sung in a strange land.[6] O Beloved Face of Jesus, while we await the Eternal Day when we shall gaze upon Thine Infinite Glory, our only desire is to delight Thy Divine Eyes by keeping our faces hidden too, so that no one on earth may recognize us . . . Dear Jesus, Heaven for us is Thy Hidden Face!

VARIOUS PRAYERS

"If you ask the Father anything in My Name, He will give it you."— John 16:23.

O Eternal Father, Thy Only-Begotten Son, the dear Child Jesus, belongs to me since Thou hast given Him. I offer Thee the infinite merits of His Divine Childhood, and I beseech Thee in His Name to open the gates of Heaven to a countless host of little ones who will for ever follow this Divine Lamb.

"Just as the King's image is a talisman through which anything may be purchased in his Kingdom, so through My Adorable Face—that priceless coin of my Humanity—you will obtain all you desire." Our Lord to Sister Mary of St. Peter.[7]

Eternal Father, since Thou hast given me for my inheritance the Adorable Face of Thy Divine Son, I offer that Face to Thee, and I beg Thee, in exchange for this coin of infinite value, to forget the ingratitude of those souls who are consecrated to Thee, and to pardon all poor sinners.

PRAYER TO THE HOLY CHILD

O Jesus, dear Holy Child, my only treasure, I abandon myself to Thy every whim. I seek no other joy than that of calling forth Thy sweet Smile. Vouchsafe to me the graces and the virtues of Thy Holy Childhood, so that on the day of my birth into Heaven the Angels and Saints may recognise in Thy Spouse: Teresa of the Child Jesus.

PRAYER TO THE HOLY FACE

O Adorable Face of Jesus, sole beauty which ravisheth my heart, vouchsafe to impress on my soul Thy Divine Likeness, so that it may not be possible for Thee to look at Thy Spouse without beholding Thyself. O my Beloved, for love of Thee I am content not to see here on earth the sweetness of Thy Glance, nor to feel the ineffable Kiss of Thy Sacred Lips, but I beg of Thee to inflame me with Thy Love, so that it may consume me quickly, and that soon Teresa of the Holy Face may behold Thy glorious Countenance in Heaven.

PRAYER

Inspired by the sight of a statue of The Blessed Joan of Arc

O Lord God of Hosts, who hast said in Thy Gospel: "I am not come to bring peace but a sword,"[8] arm me for the combat. I burn to do battle for Thy Glory, but I pray Thee to enliven my courage. . . . Then with holy David I shall be able to exclaim: "Thou alone art my shield; it is Thou, O Lord Who teachest my hands to fight."[9]

O my Beloved, I know the warfare in which I am to engage; it is not on the open field I shall fight. . . . I am a prisoner held captive by Thy Love; of my own free will I have riveted the fetters which bind me to Thee, and cut me off for ever from the world. My sword is Love! with it—like Joan of Arc—"I will drive the strangers from the land, and I will have Thee proclaimed King"—over the Kingdom of souls.

Of a truth Thou hast no need of so weak an instrument as I, but Joan, thy chaste and valiant Spouse, has said: "We must do battle before God gives the victory." O my Jesus! I will do battle, then, for Thy love, until the evening of my life. As Thou didst not will to enjoy rest upon earth, I wish to follow Thy example; and then this promise which came from thy Sacred Lips will be fulfilled in me: "If any man minister to me, let him follow Me, and where I am there also shall My servant be, and . . . him will My Father honour."[10] To be with Thee, to be in Thee, that is my one desire; this promise of fulfilment, which Thou dost give, helps me to bear with my exile as I wait the joyous Eternal Day when I shall see Thee face to face.

PRAYER TO OBTAIN HUMILITY

Written for a Novice

O JESUS! When Thou wast a wayfarer upon earth, Thou didst say:—"Learn of Me, for I am Meek and Humble of Heart, and you shall find rest to your souls."[11] O Almighty King of Heaven! my soul indeed finds rest in seeing Thee condescend to wash the feet of Thy Apostles—"having taken the form of a slave."[12] I recall the words Thou didst utter to teach me the practice of humility: "I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so you do also. The servant is not greater than his Lord . . . If you know these things, you shall be blessed if you do them."[13] I understand, dear Lord, these words which come from Thy Meek and Humble Heart, and I wish to put them in practice with the help of Thy grace.

I desire to humble myself in all sincerity, and to submit my will to that of my Sisters, without ever contradicting them, and without questioning whether they have the right to command. No one, O my Beloved! had that right over Thee, and yet Thou didst obey not only the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph, but even Thy executioners. And now, in the Holy Eucharist, I see Thee complete Thy self-abasement. O Divine King of Glory, with wondrous humility, Thou dost submit Thyself to all Thy Priests, without any distinction between those who love Thee and those who, alas! are lukewarm or cold in Thy service. They may advance or delay the hour of the Holy Sacrifice: Thou art always ready to come down from Heaven at their call.

O my Beloved, under the white Eucharistic Veil Thou dost indeed appear to me Meek and Humble of Heart! To teach me humility, Thou canst not further abase Thyself, and so I wish to respond to Thy Love, by putting myself in the lowest place, by sharing Thy humiliations, so that I may "have part with Thee"[14] in the Kingdom of Heaven.

I implore Thee, dear Jesus, to send me a humiliation whensoever I try to set myself above others.

And yet, dear Lord, Thou knowest my weakness. Each morning I resolve to be humble, and in the evening I recognise that I have often been guilty of pride. The sight of these faults tempts me to discouragement; yet I know that discouragement is itself but a form of pride. I wish, therefore, O my God, to build all my trust upon Thee. As Thou canst do all things, deign to implant in my soul this virtue which I desire, and to obtain it from Thy Infinite Mercy, I will often say to Thee: "Jesus, Meek and Humble of Heart, make my heart like unto Thine."

[1] John 16:23.

[2] Ps. 39[40]:4.

[3] Cant. 4:6.

[4] Cf. Cant. 5:2.

[5] Cf. Isa. 53:3.

[6] Cf. Ps. 136[137]:4.

[7] Sister Mary of St. Peter entered the Carmel of Tours in 1840. Three years later she had the first of a series of revelations concerning devotion to the Holy Face as a means of reparation for blasphemy. See Life of Leon Papin-Dupont, known as "The Holy Man of Tours."

[8] Matt. 10:34.

[9] Cf. Ps. 143[144]:1, 2.

[10] John 12:26.

[11] Matt. 11:29.

[12] Phil. 2:7.

[13] John 13:15-17.

[14] Cf. John 13:8.



MOTTO OF THE LITTLE FLOWER

From St. John of the Cross

"LOVE IS REPAID BY LOVE ALONE"



"MY DAYS OF GRACE"

Birthday . . . . January 2, 1873 Baptism . . . . January 4, 1873 The Smile of Our Lady . May 10, 1883 First Communion . . May 8, 1884 Confirmation . . . June 14, 1884 Conversion. . . . December 25, 1886 Audience with Leo XIII. November 20, 1887 Entry into the Carmel . April 9, 1888 Clothing . . . . January 10, 1889 Profession. . . . September 8, 1890 Taking of the Veil. . September 24, 1890 Act of Oblation . . June 9, 1895

[ENTRY INTO HEAVEN—September 30, 1897]



SELECTED POEMS OF SOEUR THERESE, THE LITTLE FLOWER OF JESUS

MY SONG OF TO-DAY

Oh! how I love Thee, Jesus! my soul aspires to Thee— And yet for one day only my simple prayer I pray! Come reign within my heart, smile tenderly on me, To-day, dear Lord, to-day!

But if I dare take thought of what the morrow brings, It fills my fickle heart with dreary, dull dismay; I crave, indeed, my God, the Cross and sufferings, But only for to-day!

O sweetest Star of Heaven! O Virgin, spotless, blest, Shining with Jesus' light, guiding to Him my way! Mother! beneath thy veil let my tired spirit rest, For this brief passing day!

Soon shall I fly afar among the holy choirs, Then shall be mine the joy that knoweth no decay; And then my lips shall sing, to Heaven's angelic lyres, The eternal, glad To-day!

June, 1894.

MEMORIES

Selected Stanzas

"I find in my Beloved the mountains, the lonely and wooded vales, the distant isles, the murmur of the waters, the soft whisper of the zephyrs . . . the quiet night with its sister the dawn, the perfect solitude—all that delights and all that fires our love."—St. John of the Cross.

I hold full sweet your memory, My childhood days, so glad, so free. To keep my innocence, dear Lord, for Thee, Thy Love came to me night and day, Alway. . . . . . . .

I loved the swallows' graceful flight, The turtle doves' low chant at night, The pleasant sound of insects gay and bright, The grassy vale where doth belong Their song. . . . . . . .

I loved the glow-worm on the sod; The countless stars, so near to God, But most I loved, in all the sky abroad, The shining moon of silver bright, At night. . . . . . . .

The grass is withered in its bed; The flowers within my hands are dead. Would that my weary feet, Jesu! might tread Thy Heavenly Fields, and I might be With Thee! . . . . . . .

My rainbow in the rain-washed skies— Horizon where my suns arise— My isle in far-off seas—pearl I most prize— Sweet spring and butterflies—I see In Thee! . . . . . . .

In Thee I have the springs, the rills, The mignonette, the daffodils, The Eglantine, the harebell on the hills, The trembling poplar, sighing low And slow. . . . . . . .

The lovely lake, the valley fair And lonely in the lambent air, The ocean touched with silver everywhere— In Thee their treasures, all combined, I find. . . . . . . .

I go to chant, with Angel-throngs, The homage that to Thee belongs. Soon let me fly away, to join their songs! Oh, let me die of love, I pray, One day! . . . . . . .

I hear, e'en I, Thy last and least, The music from Thy Heavenly Feast; There, deign receive me as Thy loving guest And, to my harp, let me but sing, My King! . . . . . . .

Unto the Saints I shall be near, To Mary, and those once treasured here. Life is all past, and dried is every tear; To me my home again is given— In Heaven.

April 28, 1895.

I THIRST FOR LOVE

In wondrous Love, Thou didst come down from Heaven To immolate Thyself, O Christ, for me; So, in my turn, my love to Thee is given— I wish to suffer and to die for Thee.

Thou, Lord, didst speak this truth benign: "To die for one loved tenderly, Of greatest love on earth is sign"; And now, such love is mine— Such love for Thee!

Do Thou abide with me, O Pilgrim blest! Behind the hill fast sinks the dying day. Helped by Thy Cross, I mount the rocky crest; Oh, come, to guide me on my Heavenward Way.

To be like Thee is my desire; Thy Voice finds echo in my soul. Suffering I crave! Thy words of fire Lift me above earth's mire, And sin's control.

Chanting Thy victories, gloriously sublime, The Seraphim—all Heaven—cry to me, That even Thou, to conquer sin and crime, Upon this earth a sufferer needs must be.

For me upon life's dreary way What scorn, what anguish, Thou didst bear! Let me but hide me day by day, Be least of all, alway, Thy lot to share.

Ah, Christ! Thy great example teaches me Myself to humble, honours to despise. A little one—as Thou—I choose to be, Forgetting self, so I may charm Thine Eyes.

My peace I find in solitude, Nor ask I more, dear Lord, than this: Be Thou my sole beatitude, And ever—in Thee—renewed My joy, my bliss!

Thou, the great God Whom earth and Heaven adore, Thou dwell'st a prisoner for me night and day; And every hour I hear Thy Voice implore: "I thirst—I thirst—I thirst—for love alway!"

I, too, Thy prisoner am I; I, too, cry ever unto Thee Thine own divine and tender cry: "I thirst!" Oh, let me die Of love for Thee.

For love of Thee I thirst! fulfil my hope; Augment in me Thine own celestial flame! For love of Thee I thirst! too scant earth's scope: The glorious Vision of Thy Face I claim!

My long, slow martyrdom of fire Still more and more consumeth me. Thou art my joy, my one desire, Jesu! may I expire Of love for Thee.

April 30, 1896.

TO SCATTER FLOWERS

O Jesus! O my Love! each eve I come to fling My springtide roses sweet before Thy Cross divine; By their plucked petals fair, my hands so gladly bring, I long to dry Thine every tear!

To scatter flowers!—that means each sacrifice: My lightest sighs and pains, my heaviest, saddest hours, My hopes, my joys, my prayers—I will not count the price— Behold my flowers!

With deep untold delight Thy beauty fills my soul, Would I might light this love in hearts of all who live! For this, my fairest flowers, all things in my control, How fondly, gladly would I give!

To scatter flowers!—behold my chosen sword For saving sinners' souls and filling Heaven's bowers: The victory is mine—yea, I disarm Thee, Lord, With these my flowers!

The petals in their flight caress Thy Holy Face; They tell Thee that my heart is Thine, and Thine alone. Thou knowest what these leaves are saying in my place: On me Thou smilest from Thy Throne.

To scatter flowers!—that means, to speak of Thee— My only pleasure here, where tears fill all the hours; But soon, with Angel Hosts, my spirit shall be free To scatter flowers.

June 28, 1896.

WHY I LOVE THEE, MARY!

Last Poem written by Soeur Therese

Concluding Stanzas

Henceforth thy shelter in thy woe was John's most humble dwelling; The son of Zebedee replaced the Son Whom Heaven adored. Naught else the Gospels tell us of thy life, in grace excelling; It is the last they say of thee, sweet Mother of my Lord!

But oh! I think that silence means that, high in Heaven's Glory, When time is past, and to their House thy children safe are come, The Eternal Word, my Mother dear, Himself will tell thy story, To charm our souls—thy children's souls—in our Eternal Home.

Soon I shall hear that harmony, that blissful, wondrous singing; Soon, unto Heaven that waits for us, my soul shall swiftly fly. O thou who cam'st to smile on me at dawn of life's beginning! Come once again to smile on me . . . Mother! the night is nigh.

I fear no more thy majesty, so far removed above me, For I have suffered sore with thee: now hear me, Mother mild! Oh, let me tell thee face to face, dear Mary! how I love thee; And say to thee for evermore: I am Thy little child.

May 1897.

NOTE.—The above poems are reprinted from the translation of the Little Flower's poems made by Susan L. Emery, of Dorchester, Mass., U.S.A., and published by the Carmel of Boston. [Ed.]

THE END