July 18, 1890.

MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER,—­I send you a passage from Isaias which will comfort you.  Long ago the Prophet’s soul was filled with the thought of the hidden beauties of the Divine Face, as our souls are now.  Many a century has passed since then.  It makes me wonder what is Time.  Time is but a mirage, a dream.  Already God sees us in glory, and rejoices in our everlasting bliss.  How much good I derive from this thought!  I understand now why He allows us to suffer.

Since Our Beloved has “trodden the wine-press alone,"[12] the wine-press from which He gives us to drink—­on our side let us not refuse to be clothed in blood-stained garments, or to tread out for Jesus a new wine which may quench His thirst!  When “He looks around Him,” He will not be able to say now that “He is alone"[13]—­we shall be there to help Him.

“His look as it were hidden."[14] Alas! it is so even to this day, and no one understands His Tears.  “Open to Me, My Sister, My Spouse,” he says to us, “for My Head is full of dew and My Locks of the drops of the night."[15] Thus Jesus complains to our souls when He is deserted and forgotten . . . To be forgotten. It is this, I think, which gives Him most pain.

And our dear Father!—­it is heartrending, but how can we repine since Our Lord Himself was looked upon “as one struck by God and afflicted"?[16] In this great sorrow we should forget ourselves, and pray for Priests—­our lives must be entirely devoted to them.  Our Divine Master makes me feel more and more that this is what He asks of you and me.

IX

September 23, 1890.

O Celine, how can I tell you all that is happening within me?  What a wound I have received!  And yet I feel it is inflicted by a loving Hand, by a Hand divinely jealous.

All was ready for my espousals;[17] but do you not think that something was still wanting to the feast?  It is true, Jesus had already enriched me with many jewels, but no doubt there was one of incomparable beauty still missing; this priceless diamond He has given me to-day . . .  Papa will not be here to-morrow!  Celine, I confess that I have cried bitterly. . . .  I am still crying so that I can scarcely hold my pen.

You know how intensely I longed to see our dearest Father again; but now I feel that it is God’s Will that he should not be at my feast.  God has allowed it simply to try our love.  Jesus wishes me to be an orphan . . . to be alone, with Him alone, so that He may unite Himself more closely to me.  He wishes, too, to give me back in Heaven this joy so lawfully desired, but which He has denied me here on earth.

To-day’s trial is one of those sorrows that are difficult to understand:  a joy was set before us, one most natural and easy of attainment.  We stretched forth our hands . . . and the coveted joy was withdrawn.  But it is not the hand of man which has done this thing—­it is God’s work.  Celine, understand your Therese, and let us accept cheerfully the thorn which is offered us.  To-morrow’s feast will be one of tears, but I feel that Jesus will be greatly consoled. . . .