ask anything with eagerness, save the perfect accomplishment of
God's designs upon my soul. I can say these words of the Canticle
of our Father, St. John of the Cross:

"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