ived . . . I
have reached the hour so coveted by us all. It is indeed true that
Our Lord chooses the little ones to confound the great ones of
this earth. I do not rely upon my own strength but upon Him Who,
on the Cross, vanquished the powers of hell.

"I am a spring flower which the Divine Master culls for His
pleasure. We are all flowers, planted on this earth, and God will
gather us in His own good time--some sooner, some later . . . I,
little flower of one day, am the first to be gathered! But we
shall meet again in Paradise, where lasting joy will be our
portion.

"Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus, using the words of the angelic
martyr--Theophane Venard."

Toward the end of September, when something was repeated to her
that had been said at recreation, concerning the responsibility of
those who have care of souls, she seemed to revive a little and
gave utterance to these beautiful words: "To him that is little,
mercy is granted.[11] It is possible to remain _little_ even in
the most responsible position, and is it not written that, at the
last day, 'the Lord will arise to save the meek and lowly ones of
the earth'?[12] He does not say 'to judge,' but 'to save!'"

As time went on, the tide of suffering rose higher and higher, and
she became so weak, that she was unable to make the slightest
movement without assistance. Even to hear anyone whisper increased
her discomfort; and the fever and oppression were so extreme that
it was with the greatest difficulty she was able to articulate a
word. And yet a sweet smile was always on her lips. Her only fear
was lest she should give her Sisters any extra trouble, and until
two days before her death she would never allow any one to remain
with her during the night. However, in spite of her entreaties,
the Infirmarian would visit her from time to time. On one occasion
she found Therese with hands joined and eyes raised to Heaven.
"What are you doing?" she asked; "you ought to try and go to
sleep." "I cannot, Sister, I am suffering too much, so I am
praying. . . ." "And what do you say to Jesus?" "I say nothing--I
only love Him!"

"Oh! how good God is!" . . . she sometimes exclaimed. "Truly He
must be very good to give me strength to bear all I have to
suffer." One day she said to the Mother Prioress: "Mother, I would
like to make known to you the state of my soul; but I cannot, I
feel too much overcome just now." In the evening Therese sent her
these lines, written i