She repeated these last words several times.  A little later she added:  “Mother, prepare me to die well.”  The good Mother Prioress encouraged her with these words:  “My child, you are quite ready to appear before God, for you have always understood the virtue of humility.”  Then, in striking words, Therese bore witness to herself: 

“Yes, I feel it; my soul has ever sought the truth. . . .  I have understood humility of heart!”

. . . . . . .

At half-past four, her agony began—­the agony of this “Victim of Divine Love.”  When the Community gathered round her, she thanked them with the sweetest smile, and then, completely given over to love and suffering, the Crucifix clasped in her failing hands, she entered on the final combat.  The sweat of death lay heavy on her brow . . . she trembled . . . but, as a pilot, when close to harbour, is not dismayed by the fury of the storm, so this soul, strong in faith, saw close at hand the beacon-lights of Heaven, and valiantly put forth every effort to reach the shore.

As the convent bells rang the evening Angelus, she fixed an inexpressible look upon the statue of the Immaculate Virgin, the Star of the Sea.  Was it not the moment to repeat her beautiful prayer: 

“O thou who camest to smile on me in the morn of my life, come once again and smile, Mother, for now it is eventide!"[15]

A few minutes after seven, turning to the Prioress, the poor little Martyr asked:  “Mother, is it not the agony? . . . am I not going to die?” “Yes, my child, it is the agony, but Jesus perhaps wills that it be prolonged for some hours.”  In a sweet and plaintive voice she replied:  “Ah, very well then . . . very well . . .  I do not wish to suffer less!”

Then, looking at her crucifix: 

“Oh! . . .  I love Him! . . .  My God, I . . . love . . .  Thee!”

These were her last words.  She had scarcely uttered them when, to our great surprise, she sank down quite suddenly, her head inclined a little to the right, in the attitude of the Virgin Martyrs offering themselves to the sword; or rather, as a Victim of Love, awaiting from the Divine Archer the fiery shaft, by which she longs to die.

Suddenly she raised herself, as though called by a mysterious voice; and opening her eyes, which shone with unutterable happiness and peace, fixed her gaze a little above the statue of Our Lady.  Thus she remained for about the space of a Credo, when her blessed soul, now become the prey of the “Divine Eagle,” was borne away to the heights of Heaven.

. . . . . . .

A few days before her death, this little Saint had said:  “The death of Love which I so much desire is that of Jesus upon the Cross.”  Her prayer was fully granted.  Darkness enveloped her, and her soul was steeped in anguish.  And yet, may we not apply to her also that sublime prophecy of St. John of the Cross, referring to souls consumed by the fire of Divine Love:  “They die Victims of the onslaughts of Love, in raptured ecstasies—­like the swan, whose song grows sweeter as death draws nigh.  Wherefore the Psalmist declared:  ’Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His Saints.’[16] For then it is that the rivers of love burst forth from the soul and are whelmed in the Ocean of Divine Love.”