Letter VIII. To the Same

Same Subject.

Alas! my God! dearest mother, how surprised was I to learn from your letter, as it were all on a sudden, the length and the danger of your malady! For believe, I pray, that my heart cherishes you filially. God be praised that you seem to have almost got free.

Truly, I see well that for the future you must grow familiar with maladies and infirmities in this decline of age in which you are. Lord Jesus! what true happiness to a soul dedicated to God, to be well exercised by tribulation before departing this life! My dearest mother, how can one know sincere and strong love save amid thorns, crosses, languors, and above all, when the languors are accompanied with longueurs (i.e., are long).

In such way our dear Saviour has shown his unmeasured love by the measure of his labours and pains. My dearest mother, dearly make love to the Spouse of your heart on the bed of pain; for it is on this bed that he has made love to your heart, even before it came into the world, seeing it as yet only in his Divine intention.

Ah! this Saviour has counted all your pains, all your sufferings, and has bought, at the price of his blood, all the patience and all the love necessary to apply holily all your labours to his glory and your salvation. Be content quietly to will to be all that God wants you to be. Never will I fail to beseech the Divine Majesty for the perfection of your heart, which mine loves, cherishes, and tenderly honours.

Adieu, my dearest mother, and my dearest child, again; let us be God's eternally, ourselves and our affections and our little pains and our great ones, and all that the Divine goodness wills to be ours; and I am in him, my dearest mother, absolutely your true son, &c.