description raised to excess her love for the Church, her mother.  She passed days and nights in praying for her, in offering to God the merits of Christ, with continual groans, and in imploring mercy.  Finally, on these occasions, she gathered together all her courage, and offered to take upon herself both the fault and the punishment, like a child presenting itself before the king’s throne, in order to suffer the punishment she had incurred.  It was then said to her, ’See how wretched and miserable thou art thyself; thou who art desirous to satisfy for the sins of others.’  And to her great terror she beheld herself as one mournful mass of infinite imperfection.  But still her love remained undaunted, and burst forth in these words, ’Yes, I am full of misery and sin; but I am thy spouse, O my Lord, and my Saviour!  My faith in thee and in the redemption which thou hast brought us covers all my sins as with thy royal mantle.  I will not leave thee until thou hast accepted my sacrifice, for the superabundant treasure of thy merits is closed to none of thy faithful servants.’  At length her prayer became wonderfully energetic, and to human ears there was like a dispute and combat with God, in which she was carried away and urged on by the violence of love.  If her sacrifice was accepted, her energy seemed to abandon her, and she was left to the repugnance of human nature for suffering.  When she had gone through this trial, by keeping her eyes fixed on her Redeemer in the Garden of Olives, she next had to endure indescribable sufferings of every description, bearing them all with wonderful patience and sweetness.  We used to see her remain several days together, motionless and insensible, looking like a dying lamb.  Did we ask her how she was, she would half open her eyes, and reply with a sweet smile, ‘My sufferings are most salutary.’

At the beginning of Advent, her sufferings were a little soothed by sweet visions of the preparations made by the Blessed Virgin to leave her home, and then of her whole journey with St. Joseph to Bethlehem.  She accompanied them each day to the humble inns where they rested for the night, or went on before them to prepare their lodgings.  During this time she used to take old pieces of linen, and at night, while sleeping, make them into baby clothes and caps for the children of poor women, the times of whose confinements were near at hand.  The next day she would be surprised to see all these things neatly arranged in her drawers.  This happened to her every year about the same time, but this year she had more fatigue and less consolation.  Thus, at the hour of our Saviour’s birth, when she was usually perfectly overwhelmed with joy, she could only crawl with the greatest difficulty to the crib where the Child Jesus was lying, and bring him no present but myrrh, no offering but her cross, beneath the weight of which she sank down half dying at his feet.  It seemed as though she were for the last time making up her earthly accounts with God, and for the last time also offering herself in the place of a countless number of men who were spiritually and corporally afflicted.  Even the little that is known of the manner in which she took upon herself the sufferings of others is almost incomprehensible.  She very truly said:  ’This year the Child Jesus has only brought me a cross and instruments of suffering.’