Epistle to the Corinthians. I read that all
cannot become Apostles, Prophets, and Doctors; that the Church is
composed of different members; that the eye cannot also be the
hand. The answer was clear, but it did not fulfill my desires, or
give to me the peace I sought. "Then descending into the depths of
my nothingness, I was so lifted up that I reached my aim."[13]

Without being discouraged I read on, and found comfort in this
counsel: "Be zealous for the better gifts. And I show unto you a
yet more excellent way."[14] The Apostle then explains how all
perfect gifts are nothing without Love, that Charity is the most
excellent way of going surely to God. At last I had found rest.

Meditating on the mystical Body of Holy Church, I could not
recognise myself among any of its members as described by St.
Paul, or was it not rather that I wished to recognise myself in
all? Charity provided me with the key to my vocation. I understood
that since the Church is a body composed of different members, the
noblest and most important of all the organs would not be wanting.
I knew that the Church has a heart, that this heart burns with
love, and that it is love alone which gives life to its members. I
knew that if this love were extinguished, the Apostles would no
longer preach the Gospel, and the Martyrs would refuse to shed
their blood. I understood that love embraces all vocations, that
it is all things, and that it reaches out through all the ages,
and to the uttermost limits of the earth, because it is eternal.

Then, beside myself with joy, I cried out: "O Jesus, my Love, at
last I have found my vocation. My vocation is love! Yes, I have
found my place in the bosom of the Church, and this place, O my
God, Thou hast Thyself given to me: in the heart of the Church, my
Mother, I will be LOVE! . . . Thus I shall be all things: thus
will my dream be realised. . . ."

Why do I say I am beside myself with joy? This does not convey my
thought. Rather is it peace which has become my portion--the calm
peace of the sailor when he catches sight of the beacon which
lights him to port. O luminous Beacon of Love! I know how to come
even unto Thee, I have found the means of borrowing Thy Fires.

I am but a weak and helpless child, yet it is my very weakness
which makes me dare to offer myself, O Jesus, as victim to Thy
Love.

In olden days pure and spotless holocausts alone were acceptable
to the Omnipotent God. Nor could His Justice