Please say this little prayer for me each day; it sums up all my desires:
"Merciful Father, in the name of Thy sweet Jesus, of the Blessed
Virgin, and all the Saints, I beg Thee to consume my sister with
Thy spirit of love, and to grant her the grace to make Thee
greatly loved."
If Our Lord takes me soon to Himself, I ask you still to continue this prayer, because my longing will be the same in Heaven as upon earth: to love Jesus and to make Him loved.
IV
. . . . . . .
All I desire is God's Holy Will, and if in Heaven I could no longer work for His glory, I should prefer exile to Home.
V
June 21, 1897
You may well sing of the Mercies of God! They shine forth in you with splendour. You love St. Augustine and St. Mary Magdalen, those souls to whom many sins were forgiven because they loved much. I love them too; I love their sorrow, and especially their audacious love. When I see Mary Magdalen come forth before all Simon's guests to wash with her tears her Master's Feet—those Feet that for the first time she touches—I feel her heart has fathomed that abyss of love and mercy, the Heart of Jesus; and I feel, too, that not only was He willing to forgive, but even liberally to dispense the favours of a Divine and intimate friendship, and to raise her to the loftiest heights of prayer.
My Brother, since I also have been given to understand the Love of the Heart of Jesus, I confess that all fear has been driven from mine. The remembrance of my faults humbles me; and it helps me never to rely upon my own strength—which is but weakness—but more than all, it speaks to me of mercy and of love. When a soul with childlike trust casts her faults into Love's all-devouring furnace, how shall they escape being utterly consumed?