ring, and if
I listened to myself I should ask Jesus to let me bear the sadness
in your stead! I do not listen, as you see; I should be afraid of
being selfish in wishing for myself the better part--I mean the
suffering. You are right--life is often burdensome and bitter. It
is painful to begin a day of toil, especially when Jesus hides
Himself from our love. What is this sweet Friend about? Does He
not see our anguish and the burden that weighs us down? Why does
He not come and comfort us?

Be not afraid. . . . He is here at hand. He is watching, and it is
He who begs from us this pain, these tears. . . . He needs them
for souls, for our souls, and He longs to give us a magnificent
reward. I assure you that it costs Him dear to fill us with
bitterness, but He knows that it is the only means of preparing us
to know Him as He knows Himself, and to become ourselves Divine!
Our soul is indeed great and our destiny glorious. Let us lift
ourselves above all things that pass, and hold ourselves far from
the earth! Up above, the air is so pure. . . . Jesus may hide
Himself, but we know that He is there.

II

October 20, 1888.

MY DEAREST SISTER,--Do not let your weakness make you unhappy.
When, in the morning, we feel no courage or strength for the
practice of virtue, it is really a grace: it is the time to "lay
the axe to the root of the tree,"[1] relying upon Jesus alone. If
we fall, an act of love will set all right, and Jesus smiles. He
helps us without seeming to do so; and the tears which sinners
cause Him to shed are wiped away by our poor weak love. Love can
do all things. The most impossible tasks seem to it easy and
sweet. You know well that Our Lord does not look so much at the
greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, as at the
love with which we do them. What, then, have we to fear?

You wish to become a Saint, and you ask me if this is not
attempting too much. Celine, I will not tell you to aim at the
seraphic holiness of the most privileged souls, but rather to be
"perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect."[2] You see that your
dream--that our dreams and our desires--are not fancies, since
Jesus Himself has laid their realisation upon us as a commandment.

III

January, 1889.

MY DEAR LITTLE CELINE,--Jesus offers you the cross, a very heavy
cross, and you are afraid of not being able to carry it without
giving way. Why? Our Beloved Himself fell three times on the way
to Calvary,