e, because neither wilt Thou condemn me."

I confess I am much happier because of my weakness than
if--sustained by grace--I had been a model of patience. It does me
so much good to see that Jesus is always sweet and tender towards
me. Truly it is enough to make me die of grateful love.

My little Mother, you will understand how this evening the vessel
of God's Mercy has overflowed for your child. . . . _Even now I
know it! Yea, all my hopes will be fulfilled_ . . .

VERILY THE LORD WILL WORK WONDERS FOR ME, AND THEY WILL INFINITELY
SURPASS MY BOUNDLESS DESIRES.
_____________________________

[1] Soeur Therese here alludes to the probable opinion of
theologians that--as in Baptism--all stain of sin is removed and
all temporal punishment for sin remitted, by the vows taken on the
day of religious profession. [Ed.]

[2] John 8:10.

_____________________________

LETTERS TO SISTER MARY OF THE SACRED HEART

I

February 21, 1888.

MY DEAR MARIE,--You cannot think what a lovely present Papa made
me last week; I believe if I gave you a hundred or even a thousand
guesses you would never find out what it was. Well, my dear Father
bought me a new-born lamb, all white and fleecy. He said that
before I entered the Carmel he wanted me to have this pleasure. We
were all delighted, especially Celine. What touched me more than
anything was Papa's thoughtfulness. Besides, a lamb is symbolic,
and it made me think of Pauline.

So far, so good, but now for the sequel. We were already building
castles in the air, and expected that in two or three days the
lamb would be frisking round us. But the pretty creature died that
same afternoon. Poor little thing, scarcely was it born when it
suffered and died. It looked so gentle and innocent that Celine
made a sketch of it, and then we laid it in a grave dug by Papa.
It appeared to be asleep. I did not want the earth to be its
covering, so we put snow upon our pet, and all was over.

You do not know, dearest Godmother, how this little creature's
death has made me reflect. Clearly we must not become attached to
anything, no matter how innocent, because it will slip from our
grasp when least expected; nothing but the eternal can content us.

II

(Written during her retreat before receiving the habit.)

January 8, 1889.

Your little _Lamb_--as you love to call me, dearest sister--would
borrow from you some strength and courage. I cannot speak to Our
Lord, and He is silen