The Story of a Soul by Saint Thérèse de Lisieux (best new books to read TXT) 📖

the sweetest of melodies. Since Thou art the true and only Home of our souls, our songs shall not be sung in a strange land.[6] O Beloved Face of Jesus, while we await the Eternal Day when we shall gaze upon Thine Infinite Glory, our only desire is to delight Thy Divine Eyes by keeping our faces hidden too, so that no one on earth may recognize us . . . Dear Jesus, Heaven for us is Thy Hidden Face! VARIOUS PRAYERS

"If you ask the Father anything in My Name, He will give it you."— John 16:23.

O Eternal Father, Thy Only-Begotten Son, the dear Child Jesus, belongs to me since Thou hast given Him. I offer Thee the infinite merits of His Divine Childhood, and I beseech Thee in His Name to open the gates of Heaven to a countless host of little ones who will for ever follow this Divine Lamb.

"Just as the King's image is a talisman through which anything may be purchased in his Kingdom, so through My Adorable Face—that priceless coin of my Humanity—you will obtain all you desire." Our Lord to Sister Mary of St. Peter.[7]

Eternal Father, since Thou hast given me for my inheritance the Adorable Face of Thy Divine Son, I offer that Face to Thee, and I beg Thee, in exchange for this coin of infinite value, to forget the ingratitude of those souls who are consecrated to Thee, and to pardon all poor sinners.

PRAYER TO THE HOLY CHILD

O Jesus, dear Holy Child, my only treasure, I abandon myself to
Thy every whim. I seek no other joy than that of calling forth Thy
sweet Smile. Vouchsafe to me the graces and the virtues of Thy
Holy Childhood, so that on the day of my birth into Heaven the
Angels and Saints may recognise in Thy Spouse: Teresa of the
Child Jesus.

PRAYER TO THE HOLY FACE

O Adorable Face of Jesus, sole beauty which ravisheth my heart, vouchsafe to impress on my soul Thy Divine Likeness, so that it may not be possible for Thee to look at Thy Spouse without beholding Thyself. O my Beloved, for love of Thee I am content not to see here on earth the sweetness of Thy Glance, nor to feel the ineffable Kiss of Thy Sacred Lips, but I beg of Thee to inflame me with Thy Love, so that it may consume me quickly, and that soon Teresa of the Holy Face may behold Thy glorious Countenance in Heaven.

PRAYER

Inspired by the sight of a statue of The Blessed Joan of Arc

O Lord God of Hosts, who hast said in Thy Gospel: "I am not come to bring peace but a sword,"[8] arm me for the combat. I burn to do battle for Thy Glory, but I pray Thee to enliven my courage. . . . Then with holy David I shall be able to exclaim: "Thou alone art my shield; it is Thou, O Lord Who teachest my hands to fight."[9]

O my Beloved, I know the warfare in which I am to engage; it is not on the open field I shall fight. . . . I am a prisoner held captive by Thy Love; of my own free will I have riveted the fetters which bind me to Thee, and cut me off for ever from the world. My sword is Love! with it—like Joan of Arc—"I will drive the strangers from the land, and I will have Thee proclaimed King"—over the Kingdom of souls.

Of a truth Thou hast no need of so weak an instrument as I, but Joan, thy chaste and valiant Spouse, has said: "We must do battle before God gives the victory." O my Jesus! I will do battle, then, for Thy love, until the evening of my life. As Thou didst not will to enjoy rest upon earth, I wish to follow Thy example; and then this promise which came from thy Sacred Lips will be fulfilled in me: "If any man minister to me, let him follow Me, and where I am there also shall My servant be, and . . . him will My Father honour."[10] To be with Thee, to be in Thee, that is my one desire; this promise of fulfilment, which Thou dost give, helps me to bear with my exile as I wait the joyous Eternal Day when I shall see Thee face to face.

PRAYER TO OBTAIN HUMILITY

Written for a Novice

O JESUS! When Thou wast a wayfarer upon earth, Thou didst say:—"Learn of Me, for I am Meek and Humble of Heart, and you shall find rest to your souls."[11] O Almighty King of Heaven! my soul indeed finds rest in seeing Thee condescend to wash the feet of Thy Apostles—"having taken the form of a slave."[12] I recall the words Thou didst utter to teach me the practice of humility: "I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so you do also. The servant is not greater than his Lord . . . If you know these things, you shall be blessed if you do them."[13] I understand, dear Lord, these words which come from Thy Meek and Humble Heart, and I wish to put them in practice with the help of Thy grace.

I desire to humble myself in all sincerity, and to submit my will to that of my Sisters, without ever contradicting them, and without questioning whether they have the right to command. No one, O my Beloved! had that right over Thee, and yet Thou didst obey not only the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph, but even Thy executioners. And now, in the Holy Eucharist, I see Thee complete Thy self-abasement. O Divine King of Glory, with wondrous humility, Thou dost submit Thyself to all Thy Priests, without any distinction between those who love Thee and those who, alas! are lukewarm or cold in Thy service. They may advance or delay the hour of the Holy Sacrifice: Thou art always ready to come down from Heaven at their call.

O my Beloved, under the white Eucharistic Veil Thou dost indeed appear to me Meek and Humble of Heart! To teach me humility, Thou canst not further abase Thyself, and so I wish to respond to Thy Love, by putting myself in the lowest place, by sharing Thy humiliations, so that I may "have part with Thee"[14] in the Kingdom of Heaven.

I implore Thee, dear Jesus, to send me a humiliation whensoever I try to set myself above others.

And yet, dear Lord, Thou knowest my weakness. Each morning I resolve to be humble, and in the evening I recognise that I have often been guilty of pride. The sight of these faults tempts me to discouragement; yet I know that discouragement is itself but a form of pride. I wish, therefore, O my God, to build all my trust upon Thee. As Thou canst do all things, deign to implant in my soul this virtue which I desire, and to obtain it from Thy Infinite Mercy, I will often say to Thee: "Jesus, Meek and Humble of Heart, make my heart like unto Thine." _____________________________

[1] John 16:23.

[2] Ps. 39[40]:4.

[3] Cant. 4:6.

[4] Cf. Cant. 5:2.

[5] Cf. Isa. 53:3.

[6] Cf. Ps. 136[137]:4.

[7] Sister Mary of St. Peter entered the Carmel of Tours in 1840. Three years later she had the first of a series of revelations concerning devotion to the Holy Face as a means of reparation for blasphemy. See Life of Léon Papin-Dupont, known as "The Holy Man of Tours."

[8] Matt. 10:34.

[9] Cf. Ps. 143[144]:1, 2.

[10] John 12:26.

[11] Matt. 11:29.

[12] Phil. 2:7.

[13] John 13:15-17.

[14] Cf. John 13:8.

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MOTTO OF THE LITTLE FLOWER

From St. John of the Cross

"LOVE IS REPAID BY LOVE ALONE"

_____________________________

"MY DAYS OF GRACE"

Birthday . . . . January 2, 1873
Baptism . . . . January 4, 1873
The Smile of Our Lady . May 10, 1883
First Communion . . May 8, 1884
Confirmation . . . June 14, 1884
Conversion. . . . December 25, 1886
Audience with Leo XIII. November 20, 1887
Entry into the Carmel . April 9, 1888
Clothing . . . . January 10, 1889
Profession. . . . September 8, 1890
Taking of the Veil. . September 24, 1890
Act of Oblation . . June 9, 1895

[ENTRY INTO HEAVEN—September 30, 1897]

_____________________________

SELECTED POEMS OF SOEUR THÉRÈSE, THE LITTLE FLOWER OF JESUS MY SONG OF TO-DAY

Oh! how I love Thee, Jesus! my soul aspires to Thee—
   And yet for one day only my simple prayer I pray!
Come reign within my heart, smile tenderly on me,
      To-day, dear Lord, to-day!

But if I dare take thought of what the morrow brings,
   It fills my fickle heart with dreary, dull dismay;
I crave, indeed, my God, the Cross and sufferings,
      But only for to-day!

O sweetest Star of Heaven! O Virgin, spotless, blest,
   Shining with Jesus' light, guiding to Him my way!
Mother! beneath thy veil let my tired spirit rest,
      For this brief passing day!

Soon shall I fly afar among the holy choirs,
   Then shall be mine the joy that knoweth no decay;
And then my lips shall sing, to Heaven's angelic lyres,
      The eternal, glad To-day!

June, 1894.

MEMORIES

Selected Stanzas

"I find in my Beloved the mountains, the lonely and wooded vales, the distant isles, the murmur of the waters, the soft whisper of the zephyrs . . . the quiet night with its sister the dawn, the perfect solitude—all that delights and all that fires our love."—St. John of the Cross.

I hold full sweet your memory,
My childhood days, so glad, so free.
To keep my innocence, dear Lord, for Thee,
Thy Love came to me night and day,
      Alway.
. . . . . . .

I loved the swallows' graceful flight,
The turtle doves' low chant at night,
The pleasant sound of insects gay and bright,
The grassy vale where doth belong
      Their song.
. . . . . . .

I loved the glow-worm on the sod;
The countless stars, so near to God,
But most I loved, in all the sky abroad,
The shining moon of silver bright,
      At night.
. . . . . . .

The grass is withered in its bed;
The flowers within my hands are dead.
Would that my weary feet, Jesu! might tread
Thy Heavenly Fields, and I might be
      With Thee!
. . . . . . .

My rainbow in the rain-washed skies—
Horizon where my suns arise—
My isle in far-off seas—pearl I most prize—
Sweet spring and butterflies—I see
      In Thee!
. . . . . . .

In Thee I have the springs, the rills,
The mignonette, the daffodils,
The Eglantine, the harebell on the hills,
The trembling poplar, sighing low
      And slow.
. . . . . . .

The lovely lake, the valley fair
And lonely in the lambent air,
The ocean touched with silver everywhere—
In Thee their treasures, all combined,
      I find.
. . . . . . .

I go to chant, with Angel-throngs,
The homage that to Thee belongs.
Soon let me fly away, to join their songs!
Oh, let me die of love, I pray,
      One day!
. . . . . . .

I hear, e'en I, Thy last and least,
The music from Thy Heavenly Feast;
There, deign receive me as Thy loving guest
And, to my harp, let me but sing,
      My King!
. . . . . . .

Unto the Saints