leys.

Lately I have been thinking what I could undertake for the
salvation of souls, and these simple words of the Gospel have
given me light. Pointing to the fields of ripe corn, Jesus once
said to His disciples: "Lift up your eyes and see the fields, for
they are already white with the harvest";[19] and again: "The
harvest indeed is great, but the labourers are few; pray ye
therefore the Lord of the harvest that He send forth
labourers."[20]

Here is a mystery indeed! Is not Jesus all-powerful? Do not
creatures belong to Him who hade them? Why does He deign to say:
"Pray ye the Lord of the harvest that He send forth labourers"? It
is because His Love for us is so unsearchable, so tender, that He
wishes us to share in all He does. The Creator of the Universe
awaits the prayer of a poor little soul to save a multitude of
other souls, ransomed, like her, at the price of His Blood.

Our vocation is not to go forth and reap in Our Father's fields.
Jesus does not say to us: "Look down and reap the harvest." Our
mission is even more sublime. "Lift up your eyes and see," saith
our Divine Master, "see how in Heaven there are empty thrones. It
is for you to fill them. . . . You are as Moses praying on the
mountain, so ask Me for labourers and they shall be sent. I only
await a prayer, a sigh! Is not the apostolate of prayer--so to
speak--higher than that of the spoken word? It is for us by prayer
to train workers who will spread the glad tidings of the Gospel
and who will save countless souls--the souls to whom we shall be
the spiritual Mothers. What, then, have we to envy in the Priests
of the Lord?

XIII

MY DARLING SISTER,--The affection of our childhood days has
changed into a closest union of mind and heart. Jesus has drawn us
to Him together, for are you not already His? He has put the world
beneath our feet. Like Zaccheus we have climbed into a tree to
behold Him--mysterious tree, raising us high above all things,
from whence we can say: "All is mine, all is for me: the Earth and
the Heavens are mine, God Himself is mine, and the Mother of my
God is for me."[21]

Speaking of that Blessed Mother, I must tell you of one of my
simple ways. Sometimes I find myself saying to her: "Dearest
Mother, it seems to me that I am happier than you. I have you for
my Mother, and you have no Blessed Virgin to love. . . . It is
true, you are the Mother of Jesus, but you have given Him to me;
and He, from the Cross, has given