But fly and love thro’ all the way.
This, I believe, was the language of your honoured mother’s heart, who is now joined with the heavenly choir above. Methinks I hear her say, “Daughter, follow me as I followed Christ; aspire after the highest degrees of holiness, for the more holy you are, the nearer shall you sit to the God-Man Christ Jesus, the deeper insight shall you have into the beatific vision.” This, honoured Madam, is a great motive to my soul to copy after my glorious Jesus. Blessed be God, that made my letter savory to your soul. For this, and all other mercies, I desire to lie in the dust, and kiss the Redeemer’s feet. I do not wonder that Mary loved to sit there: I do not wonder that another Mary wiped them with the hairs of her head. Was my Lord here, I should wish for a thousand alabaster boxes of ointment, to break for him. But Jesus says, “Give me thy heart, and I desire no more.” My soul replies,
Take my poor heart, and let it be
For ever clos’d to all but thee;
Seal thou my breast, and let me wear
That pledge of love for ever there.
How blest are they who still abide,
Close shelter’d in thy bleeding side;
Who life and strength from thence derive,
And by thee move, and in thee live.