heard by creatures. Besides, the Field-flower could
never contain it in its cup. One must be so little to draw near to
Jesus, and few are the souls that aspire to be little and unknown.
"Are not the river and the brook," they urge, "of more use than a
dewdrop? Of what avail is it? Its only purpose is to refresh for
one moment some poor little field-flower."

Ah! They little know the true _Flower of the field._ Did they know
Him they would understand better Our Lord's reproach to Martha.
Our Beloved needs neither our brilliant deeds nor our beautiful
thoughts. Were He in search of lofty ideas, has He not His Angels,
whose knowledge infinitely surpasses that of the greatest genius
of earth? Neither intellect nor other talents has He come to seek
among us. . . . He has become the _Flower of the field_ to show
how much He loves simplicity.

_The Lily of the valley_ asks but a single dewdrop, which for one
night shall rest in its cup, hidden from all human eyes. But when
the shadows shall begin to fade, when the _Flower of the field_
shall have become the _Sun of Justice,_[26] then the dewdrop--the
humble sharer of His exile--will rise up to Him as love's vapour.
He will shed on her a ray of His light, and before the whole court
of Heaven she will shine eternally like a precious pearl, a
dazzling mirror of the Divine Sun.

XV

August 2, 1893.

MY DEAR CELINE,--What you write fills me with joy; you are making
your way by a royal road. The Spouse in the Canticles, unable to
find her Beloved in the time of repose, went forth to seek Him in
the city. But in vain . . . it was only without the walls she
found Him. It is not in the sweetness of repose that Jesus would
have us discover His Adorable Presence. He hides Himself and
shrouds Himself in darkness. True, this was not His way with the
multitude, for we read that all the people were carried away as
soon as He spoke to them.

The weaker souls He charmed by His divine eloquence with the aim
of strengthening them against the day of temptation and trial, but
His faithful friends were few that day when "He was silent"[27] in
the presence of His judges. Sweet melody to my heart is that
silence of the Divine Master!

He would have us give Him alms as to a poor man, and puts
Himself--so to speak--at our mercy. He will take nothing that is
not cheerfully given, and the veriest trifle is precious in His
Divine Eyes. He stretches forth His Hand to receive a little love,
t