How can a soul so imperfect as mine aspire to the plenitude of Love?  What is the key of this mystery?  O my only Friend, why dost Thou not reserve these infinite longings to lofty souls, to the eagles that soar in the heights?  Alas!  I am but a poor little unfledged bird.  I am not an eagle, I have but the eagle’s eyes and heart!  Yet, notwithstanding my exceeding littleless, I dare to gaze upon the Divine Sun of Love, and I burn to dart upwards unto Him!  I would fly, I would imitate the eagles; but all that I can do is to lift up my little wings—­it is beyond my feeble power to soar.  What is to become of me?  Must I die of sorrow because of my helplessness?  Oh, no!  I will not even grieve.  With daring self-abandonment there will I remain until death, my gaze fixed upon that Divine Sun.  Nothing shall affright me, nor wind nor rain.  And should impenetrable clouds conceal the Orb of Love, and should I seem to believe that beyond this life there is darkness only, that would be the hour of perfect joy, the hour in which to push my confidence to its uttermost bounds.  I should not dare to detach my gaze, well knowing that beyond the dark clouds the sweet Sun still shines.

So far, O my God, I understand Thy Love for me.  But Thou knowest how often I forget this, my only care.  I stray from Thy side, and my scarcely fledged wings become draggled in the muddy pools of earth; then I lament “like a young swallow,"[19] and my lament tells Thee all, and I remember, O Infinite Mercy! that “Thou didst not come to call the just, but sinners."[20]

Yet shouldst Thou still be deaf to the plaintive cries of Thy feeble creature, shouldst Thou still be veiled, then I am content to remain benumbed with cold, my wings bedraggled, and once more I rejoice in this well-deserved suffering.

O Sun, my only Love, I am happy to feel myself so small, so frail in Thy sunshine, and I am in peace . . .  I know that all the eagles of Thy Celestial Court have pity on me, they guard and defend me, they put to flight the vultures—­the demons that fain would devour me.  I fear them not, these demons, I am not destined to be their prey, but the prey of the Divine Eagle.

O Eternal Word!  O my Saviour!  Thou art the Divine Eagle Whom I love—­ Who lurest me.  Thou Who, descending to this land of exile, didst will to suffer and to die, in order to bear away the souls of men and plunge them into the very heart of the Blessed Trinity—­Love’s Eternal Home!  Thou Who, reascending into inaccessible light, dost still remain concealed here in our vale of tears under the snow-white semblance of the Host, and this, to nourish me with Thine own substance!  O Jesus! forgive me if I tell Thee that Thy Love reacheth even unto folly.  And in face of this folly, what wilt Thou, but that my heart leap up to Thee?  How could my trust have any limits?