One evening she exclaimed:  “Oh, how I love Our Blessed Lady!  Had I been a Priest, how I would have sung her praises!  She is spoken of as unapproachable, whereas she should be represented as easy of imitation. . . .  She is more Mother than Queen.  I have heard it said that her splendour eclipses that of all the Saints as the rising sun makes all the stars disappear.  It sounds so strange.  That a Mother should take away the glory of her children!  I think quite the reverse.  I believe that she will greatly increase the splendour of the elect . . .  Our Mother Mary!  Oh! how simple her life must have been!” and, continuing her discourse, she drew such a sweet and delightful picture of the Holy Family that all present were lost in admiration.

A very heavy cross awaited her before going to join her Spouse.  From August 16 to September 30, the happy day of her death, she was unable to receive Holy Communion, because of her continual sickness.  Few have hungered for the Bread of Angels like this seraph of earth.  Again and again during that last winter of her life, after nights of intolerable pain, she rose at early morn to partake of the Manna of Heaven, and she thought no price too heavy to pay for the bliss of feeding upon God.  Before depriving her altogether of this Heavenly Food, Our Lord often visited her on her bed of pain.  Her Communion on July 16, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, was specially touching.  During the previous night she composed some verses which were to be sung before Communion.

Thou know’st the baseness of my soul, O Lord, Yet fearest not to stoop and enter me.  Come to my heart, O Sacrament adored!  Come to my heart . . . it craveth but for Thee!  And when Thou comest, straightway let me die Of very love for Thee; this boon impart!  Oh, hearken Jesus, to my suppliant cry:  Come to my heart!

In the morning, when the Holy Viaticum was carried to the Infirmary, the cloisters were thickly strewn with wild flowers and rose-petals.  A young Priest, who was about to say his first Mass that day in the Chapel of the Carmel, bore the Blessed Sacrament to the dying Sister; and at her desire, Sister Mary of the Eucharist—­whose voice was exceptionally sweet—­sang the following couplet: 

Sweet martyrdom! to die of love’s keen fire: 
The martyrdom of which my heart is fain! 
Hasten, ye Cherubim, to tune your lyre;
I shall not linger long in exile’s pain!
. . . . . . .

Fulfill my dream, O Jesus, since I sigh
Of love to die!

A few days later Therese grew worse, and on July 30 she received Extreme Unction.  Radiant with delight the little Victim of Love said to us:  “The door of my dark prison is ajar.  I am steeped in joy, especially since our Father Superior has assured me that to-day my soul is like unto that of a little child after Baptism.”