e that
every cup must contain its drop of gall. I find that trials are a
great help towards detachment from the things of earth: they make
one look higher than this world. Nothing here can satisfy, and we
can find rest only in holding ourselves ready to do God's will.

My frail barque has great difficulty in reaching port. I sighted
it long since, and still I find myself afar off. Yet Jesus steers
this little barque, and I am sure that on His appointed day it
will come safely to the blessed haven of the Carmel. O Pauline!
when Jesus shall have vouchsafed me this grace, I wish to give
myself entirely to Him, to suffer always for Him, to live for Him
alone. I do not fear His rod, for even when the smart is keenest
we feel that it is His sweet Hand which strikes.

It is such joy to think that for each pain cheerfully borne we
shall love God more through eternity. Happy should I be if at the
hour of my death I could offer Jesus a single soul. There would be
one soul less in hell, and one more to bless God in Heaven.

II

(Written during her retreat before receiving the habit.)

January, 1889.

Dryness and drowsiness--such is the state of my soul in its
intercourse with Jesus! But since my Beloved wishes to sleep I
shall not prevent Him. I am only too happy that He does not treat
me as a stranger, but rather in a homely way. He riddles his
"little ball" with pin-pricks that hurt indeed, though when they
come from the Hand of this loving Friend, the pain is all
sweetness, so gentle in His touch. How different the hand of man!

Yet I am happy, most happy to suffer! If Jesus Himself does not
pierce me, He guides the hand which does. Mother! If you knew how
utterly indifferent to earthly things I desire to be, and of how
little concern to me are all the beauties of creation. I should be
wretched were I to possess them. My heart seems so vast when I
think of the goods of earth--all of them together unable to fill
it. But by the side of Jesus how small does it appear! He is full
good to me--this God who soon will be my Spouse. He is divinely
lovable for not permitting me to be the captive of any passing
joy. He knows well that if He sent me but a shadow of earthly
happiness I should cling to it with all the intense ardour of my
heart, and He refuses even this shadow . . . He prefers to leave
me in darkness, rather than afford me a false glimmer which would
not be Himself.

I do not wish creatures to have one atom of