Letter XXI. To the Same

The Saint exhorts her to be faithful to God.

Madam my very dear Cousin, — Rightly do you find God good, and relish his paternal solicitude in your regard, in that, as you are now in a place where you cannot get time to exercise yourself in meditation, he gives himself more frequently to your heart, to strengthen it with his sacred presence. Be faithful to this divine spouse of your soul; and more and more you will see that by a thousand means he will make clear to you his dear love towards you.

I am not then amazed, my dear cousin, if God, giving you the taste of his presence little by little, disgusts you with the world. There is no doubt, my daughter, that nothing makes one think colocynth so bitter as eating honey. When we come to relish divine things, it will be impossible for the earthly again to give us appetite. And could we, after having considered the goodness, the stability, the eternity of God, love this miserable vanity of the world? We must indeed support and tolerate this vanity of the world; but we must love and affect only the truth of our good God, and may he be ever blessed for leading us to this holy contempt of earthly follies.

Alas! It is true, madame my dear cousin, the poor Madame de Moiron is dead: we should not have expected it last Lent. And truly we all shall die some future day, we know not which. My God! dear daughter, shall we not be blessed if we die with our gentle Saviour in the midst of our heart? So then, we must always hold fast to this, continuing our exercises, our desires, our resolutions, our protestations. It is a thousand times better to die with our Lord than to live without him.

Let us live gaily in him and for him, and let us not frighten ourselves about death; I do not say let us not fear it at all, but I say let us not disturb ourselves. If the death of our Lord is gracious (propice) to us, ours will be good for us. Wherefore let us often think on his: let us greatly cherish his cross and his passion.

You say right, my well beloved daughter, — when we see our friends die, let us mourn them a little, let us regret them a little, with compassion and tenderness, but with tranquillity and patience; and let us profit of their translation to prepare ourselves quickly and joyously for ours.

I have praised God for that this poor deceased had given herself, I think, a little more to devotion this last year; for it is a great sign of the mercy of God on her. It is just a year since she entered into our confraternity, which has well done its duty to her.