Letter XXIV. To the Same

On the repose of our hearts in the Will of God.

The Eve of the glorious St. Nicholas, $th December, 1608.

My dearest Child, — Since my return from the visitation, I have had some symptoms of feverish catarrh. Our doctor would not prescribe me any remedy but rest, and I have obeyed him. You know, my daughter, that this is also the remedy I willingly prescribe — tranquillity, and that I always forbid eagerness. Wherefore, in this corporal rest, I have been thinking of the spiritual rest which our souls should have in the will of God, or which this will brings us; but it is impossible to develop the considerations which this requires without a little quite real and honest leisure.

Let us live, my dear daughter, let us live as long as God pleases in this vale of tears, with a complete submission to his sovereign will. Ah! how indebted are we to his goodness, which has made us desire with such resolution to live and die in his love! Without doubt, we desire it, my child, we are resolved upon it: let us hope further that this great Saviour, who gives us the will, will give us also the grace to perfect it*

I was thinking the other day of what some authors say about the halcyons — little birds which build on the sea-shore. They make nests quite round, and so compact that the water cannot penetrate them at all; and * Phil. ii. 13.

only at the top is a little hole by which they can get air and breathe. Within, they place their little ones, so that if the sea surprise them, they may float in safety on the waves without filling or sinking; and the air which enters by the little hole serves as counterpoise, and so balances these little balls and little boats, that they are never overturned.

O my child! how I wish our hearts to be thus, well compressed, well felted in on all sides; that if the tempests and storms of the world fall on them these may not penetrate them; and they must have an opening only on the side of heaven, to breathe to our Lord! And this nest, for whom should it be made, my dear child? For the little brood of him who makes it for God's love, for divine and heavenly affections.

But whilst the halcyons build their nests, and their little ones are still too tender to support properly the shocks of the waves, ah! God has care of them, and is pitiful to them, hindering the sea from carrying them off and seizing them. O God, my daughter, and so this sovereign mercy will secure the nest of our hearts for his holy love, against all the assaults of the world, or he will save us from being attacked. Ah! how I love these birds which are surrounded by waters and live only on air, who hide themselves in the sea and see only the sky! They swim as fish and sing as birds; and what pleases me more is that the anchor is cast above and not below, to steady them against the waves. O my sister, my daughter! may the sweet Jesus deign to make us such that, surrounded by the world and the flesh, we may live by the spirit; that amid the vanities of the world we may always live in heaven; that living with men we may praise him with the angels, and that the assurance of our hopes may be always above, and in Paradise!

O my child, my heart was obliged to cast this thought on this paper, throwing its wishes at the feet of the crucifix, that in all and everywhere the holy divine love may be our great love. Alas! but when will it consume us? And when will it consume our life, to make us die to ourselves, and to make us live again to our Saviour? To him alone be for ever honour, glory, and benediction. My God, dear child, what am I writing to you? O my child, since our invariable purpose and resolution tends unceasingly to the love of God, never are the words of the love of God inopportune for us. Adieu, my child; yes, I say my true child in him whose holy love makes me bound, yea consecrated to be, to live, to die, and to rise again for ever yours, and all yours: Vive Jesus! Vive Jesus, et Nolre-Dame! Amen.