No doubt, dear Mother, you will think I exaggerate somewhat the night of my soul. If you judge by the poems I have composed this year, it must seem as though I have been flooded with consolations, like a child for whom the veil of Faith is almost rent asunder.  And yet it is not a veil—­it is a wall which rises to the very heavens and shuts out the starry sky.

When I sing of the happiness of Heaven and the eternal possession of God, I do not feel any joy therein, for I sing only of what I wish to believe.  Sometimes, I confess, a little ray of sunshine illumines my dark night, and I enjoy peace for an instant, but later, the remembrance of this ray of light, instead of consoling me, makes the blackness thicker still.

And yet never have I felt so deeply how sweet and merciful is the Lord.  He did not send me this heavy cross when it might have discouraged me, but at a time when I was able to bear it.  Now it simply takes from me all natural satisfaction I might feel in my longing for Heaven.

Dear Mother, it seems to me that at present there is nothing to impede my upward flight, for I have no longer any desire save to love Him till I die.  I am free; I fear nothing now, not even what I dreaded more than anything else, a long illness which would make me a burden to the Community.  Should it please the Good God, I am quite content to have my bodily and mental sufferings prolonged for years.  I do not fear a long life; I do not shrink from the struggle.  The Lord is the rock upon which I stand—­“Who teacheth my hands to fight, and my fingers to war.  He is my Protector and I have hoped in Him."[14] I have never asked God to let me die young, It is true I have always thought I should do so, but it is a favour I have not tried to obtain.

Our Lord is often content with the wish to do something for His Glory, and you know the immensity of my desires.  You know also that Jesus has offered me more than one bitter chalice through my dearly loved sisters.  The holy King David was right when he sang:  “Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity."[15] But such unity can only exist upon earth in the midst of sacrifice.  It was not in order to be with my sisters that I came to this holy Carmel; on the contrary, I knew well that in curbing my natural affection I should have much to suffer.

How can it be said that it is more perfect to separate oneself from home and friends?  Has anyone ever reproached brothers who fight side by side, or together win the martyr’s palm?  It is true, no doubt, they encourage each other; but it is also true that the martyrdom of each is a martyrdom to them all.

And so it is in the religious life; theologians call it a martyrdom.  A heart given to God loses nothing of its natural affection—­on the contrary, this affection grows stronger by becoming purer and more spiritual.  It is with this love, dear Mother, that I love you and my sisters.  I am glad to fight beside you for the glory of the King of Heaven, but I am ready to go to another battlefield, did the Divine Commander but express a wish.  An order would not be necessary:  a simple look, a sign, would suffice.