Letter 66. To a Superior

Feb, 19, i6i8.

I SEE, my dear daughter, that you are quite suffering and ill, because of the illnesses and sufferings of your children. It is not possible to be a Mother without cares. S. Paul says, ‘‘ Who is weak, and I am not weak?" Some of the Fathers, writing upon this passage, say that a hen is always greatly troubled while leading about her brood, and they liken S. Paul to one, gathering her chickens under her wings. But, my dear daughter, the same Apostle says, “ When I am weak, then am I strong," and “ God's strength is made perfect in weakness." So do you be strong amid the trials of your house. These long illnesses are a good school for charity to those who nurse the sick, and of loving patience to such as have to bear them. The first are like Our Lady and S. John, standing at the foot of the Cross, in tender watchfulness; the others share our Lord’s Passion, and hang with Him upon the

Cross Lift up your heart, my daughter; amid all your troubles grow in courage, and ever behold our Great Redeemer leaning down from Heaven towards you, watching you amid these trials, and holding your heart by an invisible thread, so that it may never break loose from Him.

Dear daughter, you are the bride, not as yet of Jesus Christ Glorified, but of Jesus Christ Crucified; your rings and ornaments are the cross, the hails, and thorns; the feast to which He calls you is of gall, hyssop, and vinegar. In Heaven we shall find the rubies, emeralds, and diamonds; the milk, honey, and manna. I do not say this to dishearten you, but rather because I would share your grief and sadness in loving sympathy. Do not say that you presume upon my kindness by writing such long letters; I am very glad to have them.

That good father calls me a flower and a phoenix, but in truth I am a foul raven, a mere dunghill. Nevertheless, continue to love me, my daughter, for, indeed, God loves me, and gives me an exceeding desire to serve and love Him in purity and holiness. After all we are but too happy to be able to aspire after a glorious Eternity, through the Merits of our Saviour’s Passion, Who raises up our weakness in order to clothe it with His Mercy. To Him be honour and glory, world without end. Amen.

[4*8.] LXIX.