“I drank deep in the cellar of my Friend, And, coming forth again, Knew naught of all this plain, And lost the flock I erst was wont to tend.  My soul and all its wealth I gave to be His Own; No more I tend my flock, all other work is done, And all my exercise is Love alone."[7]

Or rather: 

“Love hath so wrought in me Since I have known its sway, That all within me, whether good or ill, It makes subservient to the end it seeks, And soon transforms my soul into itself."[8]

Full sweet is the way of Love.  It is true one may fall and be unfaithful to grace; but Love, knowing how to profit by everything, quickly consumes whatever is displeasing to Jesus, leaving in the heart only a deep and humble peace.  I have obtained many spiritual lights through the works of St. John of the Cross.  When I was seventeen and eighteen they were my only food; but, later on, and even now, all spiritual authors leave me cold and dry.  However beautiful and touching a book may be, my heart does not respond, and I read without understanding, or, if I understand, I cannot meditate.  In my helplessness the Holy Scriptures and the Imitation are of the greatest assistance; in them I find a hidden manna, genuine and pure.  But it is from the Gospels that I find most help in the time of prayer; from them I draw all that I need for my poor soul.  I am always discovering in them new lights and hidden mysterious meanings.  I know and I have experienced that “the Kingdom of God is within us."[9] Our Lord has no need of books or teachers to instruct our souls.  He, the Teacher of Teachers, instructs us without any noise of words.  I have never heard Him speak, yet I know He is within me.  He is there, always guiding and inspiring me; and just when I need them, lights, hitherto unseen, break in.  This is not as a rule during my prayers, but in the midst of my daily duties.  Sometimes, however, as this evening, at the close of a meditation spent in utter dryness, a word of comfort is given to me:  “Here is the Master I give thee, He will teach thee all that thou shouldst do.  I wish thee to read in the Book of Life in which is contained the science of love. . . ."[10]

The Science of Love!  How sweetly do these words echo in my soul!  That science alone do I desire.  Having given all my substance for it, like the Spouse in the Canticles, “I think that I have given nothing."[11] After so many graces, may I not sing with the Psalmist that “the Lord is good, that His Mercy endureth for ever"?[12]

It seems to me that if everyone were to receive such favours God would be feared by none, but loved to excess; that no one would ever commit the least wilful fault—­and this through love, not fear.

Yet all souls cannot be alike.  It is necessary that they should differ from one another in order that each Divine Perfection may receive its special honour.  To me, He has given His Infinite Mercy, and it is in this ineffable mirror that I contemplate his other attributes.  Therein all appear to me radiant with Love.  His Justice, even more perhaps than the rest, seems to me to be clothed with Love.  What joy to think that Our Lord is just, that is to say, that He takes our weakness into account, that He knows perfectly the frailty of our nature!  Of what, then, need I be afraid?