13 - Story of a Soul by Saint Therese of Lisieux

Marie Francoise Therese Martin, lovingly known as The Little Flower, was born on January 2, 1873, in Alencon, France, to Louis Martin and Zelie Guerin. As the youngest of nine siblings, she faced profound loss early in life when her mother passed away when she was just three years old. The family relocated to Lisieux to be closer to relatives, setting the stage for Therese’s spiritual journey. At the tender age of 15, Therese entered the Carmelite convent in Lisieux on April 9, 1888, despite facing significant opposition. It was within those sacred walls that she penned her spiritual autobiography, LHistoire dune Ame (The Story of a Soul), out of obedience and love. Her sisters followed her path into religious life, with one joining her at the Carmel and another becoming a Poor Clare at the Visitation Convent in Caen. Thereses life was brief; she succumbed to tuberculosis on September 30, 1897, at the Carmel of Lisieux. Her legacy lives on, as she was beatified on April 29, 1923, and canonized on May 17, 1925. (Summary written by Ann Boulais.)

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Epilogue of the Story of a Soul. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Recording by Anne Boulat. The Story of a Soul, The
Autobiography of Saint Terres of Le Sieux, translated by Thomas Taylor.

(00:24):
Epilogue a victim of Divine love. Many pages of this story,
said its writer will never be read upon earth. It
is necessary to repeat and emphasize her words. There are
sufferings which are not to be disclosed here below. Our
Lord has jealously reserved to himself the right to reveal
their merit and glory in the clear vision, where all

(00:45):
veils shall be removed. My God, she cried on the
day of her religious profession, give me martyrdom of soul
or body, or rather give me both the one and
the other. And our Lord, who as she herself avowed,
fulfilled all her desires, granted this one also, and in
more abundant measure than the rest. He caused the floods

(01:07):
of infinite tenderness pent up in his divine heart to
overflow into the soul of his little spouse. This was
the martyrdom of love so well described in her melodious song.
But it was her own doctrine that said, to dedicate
oneself as a victim of love is not to be
dedicated to sweetness and consolations. It is to offer oneself

(01:27):
to all that is painful and bitter, because love lives
only by sacrifice, and the more we would surrender ourselves
to love, the more we must surrender ourselves to suffering. Therefore,
because she desired to attain the loftiest height of love,
the divine Master led her thither by the rugged path
of sorrow, and it was only on its bleak summit

(01:48):
that she died a victim of love. We have seen
how great was her sacrifice in leaving her happy home
and the father who loved her so tenderly. It may
be imagined that this sacrifice was softened because the Carmels
she found again her two elder and dearly loved sisters.
On the contrary, this afforded the young postulant many an
occasion for repressing her strong natural affections. The rules of

(02:11):
solitude and silence were strictly observed, and she only saw
her sisters at recreation. Had she been less mortified, she
might often have sat beside them, But by preference she
sought out the company of those religious who were least
agreeable to her, and no one could tell whether or
not she bore a special affection towards her own sisters.

(02:31):
Some time after her entrance she was appointed as aide
to Sister Agnes of Jesus, her dear Pauline. This was
a fresh occasion for sacrifice. Theres knew that all unnecessary
conversation was forbidden, and therefore she never allowed herself even
the least word, Oh, my little mother. She said later,
how I suffered. I could not open my heart to you,

(02:53):
and I thought you no longer knew me. After five
years of this heroic silence, Sister Agnes of Jesus was
elected prioress. On the evening of the election, Terres might
well have rejoiced that henceforth she could speak freely to
her little mother and as of old, pour out her soul.
But sacrifice had become her daily food. If she sought

(03:15):
one favor more than another, it was that she might
be looked on as the lowest and the least, and
among all the religious, not one saw less of the
Mother Prioress. She desired to live the life of Carmel
with all the perfection required by Saint Teresa, and although
a martyr to habitual dryness, her prayer was continuous. On

(03:36):
one occasion, a novice entering her cell was struck by
the heavenly expression of her countenance. She was sewing industriously
and yet seemed lost in deep contemplation. What are you
thinking of, the young sister asked, I am meditating on
the our father. Teres answered, it is so sweet to
call God our father, and tears glistened in her eyes.

(03:58):
Another time she said, I can not well see what
more I shall have in heaven than I have now.
I shall see God, it is true. But as to
being with him, I am that already even on earth.
The flame of divine love consumed her, And this is
what she herself relates. A few days after the oblation
of myself to God's merciful love, I was in the choir,

(04:20):
beginning the way of the Cross, when I felt myself
suddenly wounded by a dart of fire, so ardent that
I thought I should die. I do not know how
to explain this transport. There is no comparison to describe
the intensity of that flame. It seemed as though an
invisible force plunged me wholly into fire. But oh, what fire,
what sweetness. When Mother Prioress asked her if this rapture

(04:44):
was the first she had experienced, she answered simply, dear Mother,
I have had several transports of love, and one in
particular during my novitiate, when I remained for a whole
week far removed from this world, it seemed as though
a veil were thrown over all earth things. But I
was not then consumed by a real fire. I was
able to bear those transports of love without expecting to

(05:07):
see the ties that bound me to Earth give way.
Whilst on the day of which I now speak, one minute,
one second more and my soul must have been set free,
alas I found myself again on earth, and dryness at
once returned to my heart. True, the divine hand had
withdrawn the fiery dart, but the wound was unto death.

(05:27):
In that close union with God, theres acquired a remarkable
mastery over self. All sweet virtues flourished in the garden
of her soul. But do not let us imagine that
these wondrous flowers grew without effort on her part. In
this world, there is no fruitfulness without suffering, either physical pain,
secret sorrow, or trials known sometimes only to God. When

(05:48):
good thoughts and generous resolutions have sprung up in our
souls through reading the lives of the saints, we ought
not to content ourselves, as in the case of profane books,
with paying a certain tribute of admiration to the genius
of their authors. We should rather consider the price which,
doubtless they have paid for that supernatural good they have produced.
Dam Gerranger. And if today Teres transformed so many hearts,

(06:13):
and the good she does on earth is beyond reckoning,
we may well believe she bought it all at the
price with which Jesus bought back our souls by suffering
and the cross. Not the least of these sufferings was
the unceasing war she waged against herself, refusing every satisfaction
to the demands of her naturally proud and impetuous nature.

(06:33):
While still a child, she had acquired the habit of
never excusing herself or making a complaint. At the carmel,
she strove to be the little servant of her sisters
in religion, and in that same spirit of humility, she
endeavored to obey all without distinction. One evening, during her illness,
the community had assembled in the garden to sing a
hymn before an altar of the Sacred Heart. Sore Thees,

(06:56):
who was already wasted by fever, joined them with difficulty, and,
arriving quite exhausted, was obliged to sit down at once.
When the hymn began, one of the sisters made her
a sign to stand up without hesitation. The humble child rose, and,
in spite of the fever and great oppression from which
she was suffering, remained standing to the end. The infirmarian

(07:18):
had advised her to take a little walk in the
garden for a quarter of an hour each day. This
recommendation was for her a command. One afternoon, a sister,
noticing what an effort it cost her, said, soretreres, you
would do much better to rest. Walking like this cannot
do you any good. You only tire yourself. That is true,

(07:39):
she replied, but do you know what gives me strength?
I offer each step for some missionary. I think that possibly,
over there, far away, one of them is weary and
tired in his apostolic labors, and to lessen his fatigue,
I offer mine to the good God. She gave her
novices some beautiful examples of a detachment. One year, the

(07:59):
relaytionations of the sisters and the servants of the convent
had sent bouquets of flowers for Mother Pryorus's feast. Theres
was arranging them most tastefully when a lay sister said crossly,
it is easy to see that the large bouquets have
been given by your friends. I suppose those sent by
the poor will again be put in the background. A
sweet smile was the only reply, and notwithstanding the unpleasing effect,

(08:22):
she immediately put the flowers sent by the servants in
the most conspicuous place. Struck with admiration, the lay sister
went at once to the Prioress to accuse herself of
her unkindness and to praise the patience and humility shown
by Soretrees. After the death of Terrez, that same sister,
full of confidence, pressed her forehead against the feet of

(08:43):
the saintly nun once more, asking forgiveness for her fault.
At the same instant, she felt herself cured a cerebral anemia,
from which she had suffered for many years, and which
had prevented her from applying herself either to reading or
mental prayer, far from avoiding humiliations when theres sought them eagerly,
And for that reason, she offered herself as aide to

(09:04):
a sister who she well knew was difficult to please,
and her generous proposal was accepted. One day, when she
had suffered much from the sister, a novice asked her
why she looked so happy. Great was her surprise on
receiving the reply, it is because Sister n has just
been saying disagreeable things to me. What pleasure she has

(09:24):
given me. I wish I could meet her now and
give her a sweet smile. As she was still speaking,
the sister in question knocked at the door, and the
astonished novice could see for herself how the saints forgive
sore Therese acknowledged later on, she soared so high above
earthly things that humiliations did but make her stronger to
all these virtues. She joined a wonderful courage. From her

(09:47):
entrance into the carmel at the age of fifteen, she
was allowed to follow all the practices of its austere rule.
The fasts alone accepted. Sometimes her companions in the novitiate,
seeing how pale she looked, tried to to obtain a
dispensation for her, either from the night office or from
rising at the usual hour in the morning. But the
mother Prioress would never yield to these requests. A soul

(10:10):
of such metal, she would say, ought not to be
dealt with as a child. Dispensations are not meant for her.
Let her be for God sustains her. Besides, if she
is really ill, she should come and tell me herself. Footnote.
Mother Mary of Gonzaga died December seventeenth, nineteen o four,
at the age of seventy one. Mother Agnes of Jesus

(10:31):
Pauline was at that time Prioris, the former herself in
the line of Saint anthonya Patua, recognized in Soretres a
heroic soul, filled with holiness and capable of becoming one
day and excellent Prioris. With this end in view, she
trained her with a strictness for which the young saint
was most grateful. In the arms of Mother Mary of Gonzaga,

(10:53):
the little Flower of Jesus was welcome to the carmel,
and in those arms she died happy. She declared not
to have it, and that hour as superior as her
little mother, in order the better to exercise her spirit
of faith in authority. Editor and footnote. But it was
always a principle with theres that we should go to
the end of our strength before we complain. How many

(11:16):
times did she assist at Matten's suffering from vertico or
violent headaches. I am able to walk, she would say,
and so I ought to be at my duty. And
thanks to this undaunting energy she performed acts that were heroic.
It was with difficulty that her delicate stomach accustomed itself
to the frugal fare of the caramel. Certain things made

(11:36):
her ill, but she knew so well how to hide
this that no one ever suspected it. Her neighbor at
table said that she had tried in vain to discover
the dishes that she preferred, and the kitchen sisters, finding
her so easy to please, invariably served her with what
was left. It was only during her last illness, when
she was ordered to say what disagreed with her, that

(11:58):
her mortifications came to light. When Jesus wishes us to suffer,
she said, at that time there can be no evading it.
And so when Sister Mary of the Sacred Heart was
procureatrix footnote, as will be remembered, this was Marie, her
eldest sister editor and footnote. She endeavored to look after
me with a mother's tenderness. To all appearances, I was

(12:20):
well cared for. And yet what mortifications did she not
impose upon me? For she served me according to her
own taste, which was entirely opposed to mine. Therez's spirit
of sacrifice was far reaching. She eagerly sought what was
painful and disagreeable as her rightful share. All that God
asked she gave him without hesitation or reserve. During my postulancy,

(12:44):
she said, it cost me a great deal to perform
certain exterior penances customary in our convents. But I never
yielded to these repugnances. It seemed to me that the
image of my crucified Lord looked at me with beseeching
eyes and begged these sacrifices. Her vigilance was so keen
that she never left unobserved any little recommendations of the

(13:05):
mother prioress, or any of the small rules which render
the religious life so meritorious. One of the old nuns,
having remarked her extraordinary fidelity on this point. Ever afterwards
regarded her as a saint. Soretres was accustomed to say
that she never did any great penances. That was because
her fervor counted as nothing the few that were allowed her.

(13:27):
It happened, however, that she fell ill through wearing for
too long a time a small iron cross studded with
sharp points that pressed into her flesh. Such a trifle
would not have caused this, she said afterwards, if God
had not wished thus to make me understand that the
greater austerities of the saints are not meant for me,
nor for the souls that walk in the path of

(13:47):
spiritual childhood. The souls that are the most dear to
my Father, Our Lord once said to Saint Theresa are
those he tries the most, and the greatness of their
trials is the measure of his love. Theres was a
soul most dear to God, and he was about to
fill up the measure of his love by making her
pass through a veritable martyrdom. The reader will remember the

(14:08):
call on Good Friday, April third, eighteen ninety six, when
to use her own expression, she heard the distant murmur
which announced the approach of the bridegroom. But she had
still to endure long months of pain before the blessed
hour of her deliverance. On the morning of that good Friday,
she made so little of the hemorrhage of the previous
night that Mother Pryorus allowed her to practice all the

(14:30):
penances prescribed by the rule for that day. In the afternoon,
a novice saw her cleaning windows. Her face was livid,
and in spite of her great energy, it was evident
that her strength was almost spent. Seeing her fatigue, the novice,
who loved her dearly, burst into tears and begged Lee
to obtain her some little reprieve. But the young novice

(14:51):
mistress strictly forbade her, saying that she was quite able
to bear this slight fatigue on the day on which
Jesus had suffered and died. Soon, a persist and cough
made the mother Prioress feel anxious. She ordered soortres a
more strengthening diet, and the cough ceased for some time. Truly,
sickness is too slow, a liberator exclaimed, our dear little sister,

(15:12):
I can only rely upon love. She was strongly tempted
to respond to the appeal of the carmelites of Hanoi,
who much desired to have her, and began a novena
to the Venerable Theophane Vannard to obtain her cure. Footnote.
The Blessed Theophane Vannard was born at Saint Luke in
the Diocese of Poitier, on the feast of the Presentation

(15:32):
of Our Lady November twenty one, eighteen twenty nine. He
was martyred at Qucho Tong King on the feast of
the Presentation of Our Lord February two, eighteen sixty one,
at the age of thirty two. A long and delightful
correspondence with his family, begun in his college days and
completed from his cage at Qucho, reveals a kinship of

(15:53):
posey as well as of sanctity and of the love
of home between the two spring flowers. The beauty of
his soul was so visible in his boyish face that
he was spared all torture during his two months in
the cage. In nineteen o nine, the year in which
theres became servant of God, by the commencement of the
episcopal process, her patron received the honors of beatification. Another

(16:18):
child of France, Joan, its martyr maid, whose praises have
been sung in affectionate verse by the saints of Saint
Luke and Lcieux, was beatified that same year editor en footnote.
But alas that novena proved but the beginning of a
more serious phase of her malady. Like her divine master,
she passed through the world doing good. Like him, she

(16:39):
had been forgotten and unknown, and now still following in
his footsteps, she was to climb to the hill of Calvary,
accustomed to see her always suffering, yet always joyous and
brave Mother Prioress, doubtless inspired by God, allowed her to
take part in the community exercises, some of which tired
her extremely. At night, she would courageously mount the stairs alone,

(17:02):
pausing at each step to take breath. It was with
difficulty that she reached her cell and then in so
exhausted a state that, sometimes, as she avowed later, it
took her quite an hour to undress. After all this exertion,
it was upon a hard palate that she took her rest.
Her nights too were very bad, and when asked if
she would like someone to be near her in her

(17:23):
hours of pain, she replied, oh no. On the contrary,
I am only too glad to be in a cell
away from my sisters that I may not be heard.
I am content to suffer alone as soon as I
am pitied and loaded with attentions. My happiness leaves me
what strength of soul these words betray Where we find sorrow,
She found joy. What to us is too hard to bear,

(17:46):
being overlooked and ignored by creatures became to her a
source of delight, and her divine spouse knew well how
to provide that bitter joy she found so sweet. Painful
remedies had often to be applied. One day, when she
had suffered from them more than usual, she was resting
in her cell during recreation and overheard a sister in
the kitchen speaking of her thus sore. Therees will not

(18:08):
live long, and really, sometimes I wonder what our mother
Prioress will find to say about her when she dies.
Footnote an allusion to the obituary notice sent to each
of the French Carmels when the Carmel light nun dies
in that country. In the case of those who die.
In the Odor of Sanctity, These notices sometimes run to
considerable length. Four notices issued from the Carmel of Lucue

(18:30):
are of great interest to the clients of soreterrees are
in the course of publication at the Orphans Press Rokedale,
those of the Carmel's saintly foundress, Mother Genevieve of Saint Teresa,
whose death is referred to in chapter eight, Mother Mary
of Gonzaga, the Prioress of Terres, Sister Mary of the Eucharis,
Marie Garrin, the Cousin of Terres chapter three, and most

(18:54):
interesting of all, the long sketch partly autobiographal of Mother
Mary of Saint Angela's Marie Ange, the trophy of Terrez,
brought by her intercession to the Carmel in nineteen o two,
where the writer made her acquaintance in the following spring.
She became prioris in nineteen o eight, dying eighteen months later.

(19:14):
In the Odor of Sanctity, aged only twenty eight editor
en footnote, she will be sorely puzzled for this little sister,
amiable as she is, has certainly never done anything worth
speaking about. The infirmarian, who had also overheard the remark,
turned to Terrez and said, if you relied upon the

(19:35):
opinion of creatures, you would indeed be disillusioned to day
the opinion of creatures. She replied, Happily, God has given
me the grace to be absolutely indifferent to that. Let
me tell you something which showed me once and for
all how much it is worth. A few days after
my clothing, I went to our dear mother's room, and
one of the sisters who happened to be there, said,

(19:56):
on seeing me, dear Mother, this novice certainly does you
credit how well she looks. I hope she may be
able to observe the rule for many years to come.
I was feeling decidedly pleased at this compliment, when another
sister came in and, looking at me, said, poor little
sore therees, how very tired you seem. You quite alarm me.
If you do not soon improve, I am afraid you

(20:18):
will not be able to keep the rule very long.
I was then only sixteen, but this little incident made
such an impression on me that I never again set
store on the varying opinion of creatures. On another occasion,
someone remarked, it is said that you have never suffered much. Smiling,
she pointed to a glass containing medicine of a bright
red color. You see this little glass, she said, One

(20:40):
would suppose that it contain a most delicious draft, whereas
in reality it is more bitter than anything else. I
take it is the image of my life. To others
it has been all rose color. They have thought that
I continually drink of a most delicious wine. Yet to
me it has been full of bitterness. I say bitterness,
And yet my life has not been a bitter one,

(21:02):
for I have learned to find my joy and sweetness
in all that is bitter. You are suffering very much
just now, are you not? Yes? But I have so
longed to suffer. How it distresses us to see you
in such pain, and to think it may increase, said
her novices, Oh, do not grieve about me. I have
reached a point where I can no longer suffer, because

(21:23):
all suffering is become so sweet. Besides, it is quite
a mistake to trouble yourselves as to what I may
still have to undergo. It is like meddling with God's work.
We who run in the way of love must never
allow ourselves to be disturbed by anything. If I did
not simply live from one moment to another, it would
be impossible for me to be patient. But I only

(21:43):
look at the present. I forget the past, and I
take good care not to forestall the future. When we
yield to discouragement or despair, it is usually because we
think too much about the past and the future. But
pray much for me, for it is often just when
I cry to Heaven for help that I feel abandon
How do you manage not to give way to discouragement?

(22:04):
At such times? I turn to God and all his
saints and thank them, notwithstanding I believe they want to
see how far my trust may extend. But the words
of Job have not entered my heart in vain. Even
if God should kill me, I would still trust in him.
Footnote cross reference Job thirteen, verse fifteen, and footnote I own.

(22:26):
It has taken a long time to arrive at this
degree of self abandonment, but I have reached it now,
and it is the Lord himself who has brought me there.
Another time, she said, our Lord's will fills my heart
to the brim, and hence, if aught else is added,
it cannot penetrate to any depth, but like oil on
the surface of limpid waters, glides easily across. If my

(22:48):
heart were not already brimming over and must needs be
filled by the feelings of joy and sadness that alternate
so rapidly, then indeed would it be flooded by a
wave of bitter pain. But these quick exceeding changes scarcely
ruffle the surface of my soul, and in its depths
there reigns a peace that nothing can disturb. And yet
her soul was enveloped in thick darkness, and her temptations

(23:11):
against faith, ever conquered, but ever returning, were there to
rob her of all feeling of happiness at the thought
of her approaching death. Were it not for this trial,
which is impossible to understand, she would say, I think
I should die of joy at the prospect of soon
leaving this earth. By this trial, the divine Master wished
to put the finishing touches to her purification, and thus

(23:32):
enable her to not only walk with rapid steps, but
to run in her little way of confidence and abandonment.
Her words repeatedly prove this, I desire neither death nor life,
were our Lord to offer me my choice, I would
not choose. I only will what he wills. It is
what he does that I love. I do not fear
the last struggle, nor any pains, however great my illness

(23:55):
may bring. God has always been my help. He has
led me by the hand from my earliest childhood, and
on him I rely. My agony may reach the furthest limits,
but I am convinced He will never forsake me. Such
confidence in God of necessity stirred the fury of the devil,
of him who, at life's close tries every ruse to

(24:16):
sow the seeds of despair in the hearts of the dying.
Last night I was seized by a terrible feeling of anguish,
she confessed to Mother Agnes of Jesus. On one occasion,
I was lost in darkness, and from out of it
came in a cursed voice. Are you certain God loves you?
Has he himself told you so? The opinion of creatures
will not justify you in his sight. These thoughts had

(24:39):
long tortured me. When your little note, like a message
from heaven, was brought to me, you recall to me,
dear mother, the special graces Jesus had lavished upon me,
and as though you had had a revelation concerning my trial,
you assured me I was deeply loved by God and
was on the eve of receiving from his hands. My
te didnal crown. Immediately, peace and joy were restored to

(25:03):
my heart. Yet the thought came to me, it is
my little mother's affection that makes her write these words straightway.
I felt inspired to take up the Gospels, and, opening
the book at random, I lighted on a passage which
had hitherto escaped me. He whom God hath sent, speaketh
the words of God, for God doth not give the
spirit by measure John three, verse thirty four. Then I

(25:26):
fell asleep, fully consoled. It was you, dear mother, whom
the Good God sent me, and I must believe you
because you speak the words of God. For several days
during the month of August, theres remained so to speak
beside herself and implored that prayers might be offered for her.
She had never before been seen in this state, and
in her inexpressible anguish, she kept repeating, Oh, how necessary

(25:50):
it is to pray for the agonizing if one only knew.
One night, she entreated the infirmarian to sprinkle her bed
with holy water, saying, I am besieged by the devil.
I do not see him, but I feel him. He
torments me and holds me with an iron grip, that
I may not find one crumb of comfort. He augments
my woes, that I may be driven to despair, and

(26:12):
I cannot pray. I can only look at our blessed
lady and say, Jesus, how needful is that prayer? We
say at compline pro call reched edan somnia et nochium phantasmata,
freeus from the phantoms of the night. Something mysterious is
happening within me. I am not suffering for myself, but
for some other soul, and Satan is angry. The informarian startled,

(26:37):
lighted a blessed candle, and the spirit of darkness fled,
never to return. But the sufferer remained to the end
in a state of extreme anguish. One day, while she
was contemplating the beautiful heavens, someone said to her, soon
your home will be there beyond the blue sky. How
lovingly you gaze at it. She only smiled, But afterwards

(26:57):
she said to the mother Prioress, dear mother, the sisters,
do not realize my sufferings. Just now, when looking at
the sky, I merely admire the beauty of the material heaven.
The true heaven seems more than ever closed against me.
At first their words troubled me, but an interior voice whispered, yes,
you are looking at heaven out of love. Since your

(27:18):
soul is entirely delivered up to love. All your actions,
even the most indifferent, are marked with its divine seal.
At once I was consoled. In spite of the darkness
which enveloped her. Her divine savior sometimes left the door
of her prison ajar. Those were moments in which her
soul lost itself in transports of confidence and love. Thus

(27:38):
it happened. Then, on a certain day, when walking in
the garden, supported by one of her own sisters, she
stopped at the charming spectacle of a hen, sheltering its
pretty little ones under its wing. Her eyes filled with tears,
and turning to her companion, she said, I cannot remain
here any longer. Let us go in. And even when
she reached her cell, her tears continued to fall, and

(28:00):
it was some time before she could speak. At last,
she looked at her sister with a heavenly expression, and said,
I was thinking of our Lord and the beautiful comparison
he chose in order to make us understand his ineffable tenderness.
This is what he has done for me all the
days of my life. He has completely hidden me under
his wing. I cannot express all that just stirred my heart.

(28:22):
It is well for me that God conceals himself and
lets me see the effects of his mercy. But rarely,
and as it were, from behind the lattices. Were it
not so, I could never bear such sweetness. Disconsolate at
the prospect of losing their treasure, the community began a
novena to our Lady of Victories on June five, eighteen
ninety seven, in the fervent hope that she would once

(28:43):
again miraculously raise the drooping little flower. But her answer
was the same as that given by the blessed Martyr
Theophane Vunard, and they were forced to accept with generosity
the bitterness of the coming separation. At the beginning of July,
her state became very serious, and she was at last
removed to the infirmary. Seeing her empty cell and knowing

(29:04):
she would never return to it, Mother, Agnes of Jesus
said to her, when you are no longer with us,
how sad I shall feel when I look at this
cell for consolation. Little mother, you can think how happy
I am up there, And remember that much of my
happiness was acquired in that little cell. For she added,
raising her beautiful eyes to heaven, I have suffered so

(29:26):
much there, and I should have been happy to die there.
As she entered the infirmary, she looked towards the miraculous
statue of our lady, which had been brought thither. It
would be impossible to describe that. Look what is it
you see, said her sister Marie, the witness of her
miraculous cure as a child, And theres answered, never has

(29:46):
she seemed to me so beautiful. But to day it
is the statue, whereas that other day, as you know well,
it was not the statue. And from that time she
often received similar consolations. One evening she exclaimed, Oh, how
I love our blessed lady. Had I been a priest,
how I would have sung her praises. She is spoken

(30:07):
of as unapproachable, whereas she should be represented as easy
of imitation. She is more mother than Queen. I have
heard it said that her splendor eclipse is that of
all the saints, as the rising sun makes all the
stars disappear. It sounds so strange that a mother should
take away the glory of her children. I think quite
the reverse. I believe that she will greatly increase the

(30:29):
splendor of the elect Our Mother Mary. Oh, how simple
her life must have been. And continuing her discourse, she
drew such a sweet and delightful picture of the Holy
Family that all present were lost in admiration. A very
heavy cross awaited her before going to join her spouse.
From August sixteenth to September thirty, the happy day of

(30:51):
her death, she was unable to receive Holy communion because
of her continual sickness. Few have hungered for the bread
of angels like this seraph of Earth. Again and again.
During the last winter of her life, after nights of
intolerable pain, she rose at early morn to partake of
the manna of heaven, and she thought no price too
heavy to pay for the bliss of feeding upon God.

(31:12):
Before depriving her altogether of this heavenly food, Our Lord
often visited her on her bed of pain. Her communion
on July sixteenth. The feast of our Lady of Mount
Carmel was specially touching. During the previous night, she composed
some verses which were to be sung before communion. Thou
knowest the baseness of my soul, O Lord, yet fearest

(31:33):
not to stoop and enter me. Come to my heart,
O sacrament adored. Come to my heart. It craveth but
for THEE. And when thou comest straightway, let me die
of very love for THEE. This boon impart. Oh hearken
Jesus to my suppliant cry, come to my heart. In
the morning, when the Holy Viactium was carried to the infirmary,

(31:54):
the cloisters were thickly strewn with wild flowers and rose petals.
A young priest who was about to say his first
Mass that day in the chapel of the Carmel, bore
the blessed sacrament to the dying sister, and at her desire,
Sister Mary of the Eucharist, whose voice was exceptionally sweet,
sang the following couplet, sweet Martyrdom, to die of Love's

(32:16):
keen fire, the martyrdom of which my heart is fain
hasten Ye cherubim to tune your lyre. I shall not
linger long in exile's pain fulfill my dream, O Jesus,
since I sigh of love to die. A few days
later theres grew worse, and on July thirty she received
extreme unction. Radiant with delight, the little victim of love

(32:36):
said to us, the door of my dark prison is ajar.
I am steeped in joy, since our father's superior has
assured me that to day my soul is like unto
that of a little child after baptism. No doubt, she
thought she was quickly to join the white Robe band
of the Holy Innocence. She little knew that two months
long of martyrdom had still to run their course. Dear mother,

(32:57):
she said, I entreat you give me leave to die.
Let me offer my life for such and such an attention,
naming it to the Prioress. And when the permission was refused,
she replied, well, I know that just at this moment
our lord has such a longing for a tiny bunch
of grapes which no one will give him, that he
will perforce have to come and steal it. I do

(33:19):
not ask anything. This would be to stray from my
path of self surrender. I only beseech our lady to
remind her Jesus of the title of thief, which he
takes to himself in the Gospels, so that he may
not forget to come and carry me away. One day,
Soretrees took an ear of corn from a sheaf they
had brought her. It was so laden with grain that

(33:40):
it bent on its stock, and after gazing upon it
for some time, she said to the mother Prioress Mother,
that ear of corn is the image of my soul.
God has loaded it with graces for me and for
many others, and it is my dearest wish ever to
bend beneath the weight of God's gifts, acknowledging that all
comes from Him. She was right. Her soul was indeed

(34:01):
laden with graces, and it was easy to discern the
spirit of God speaking his praises out of the mouth
of that innocent child. Had not this spirit of truth
already dictated these words to the Great Teresa of Avella.
Let those souls who have reached to perfect union with
God hold themselves in high esteem with a humble and
holy presumption. Let them keep unceasingly before their eyes the

(34:24):
remembrance of the good things they have received, and beware
of the thought that they are practicing humility in not
recognizing the gifts of God. Is it not clear that
the constant remembrance of gifts bestowed serves to increase the
love of the giver? How can he who ignores the
riches he possesses spend them generously upon others. But the
above was not the only occasion on which the Little

(34:45):
Theres of Lucieux gave utterance to words that proved prophetic footnote.
When asked before her death how they should pray to
her in Heaven, sore Therese, with her wonted simplicity, made answer,
you will call me Little Theres Petit Therese. And at Gallipoli,
on the occasion of her celebrated apparition in the carmel there,

(35:06):
when the prioress, taking her to be Saint Teresa of Vavela,
addressed her as our holy mother, the visitor, adopting her
then official title, replied, nay, I am not our holy mother.
I am the servant of God, sore Therese of Lisieux.
This her own name of sore Therese, has been retained
in the present edition unless it was advisable to set

(35:29):
down her name in full, Sister Teresa, of the Child
Jesus and of the Holy Face. The name of the
Little Flower, borrowed by her from the blessed Theophane Vannard,
and used so extensively in the pages of her manuscript,
is the one by which she is best known in
English speaking lands. Editor and footnote. In the month of

(35:49):
April eighteen ninety five, while she was still in excellent health,
she said, in confidence to one of the older nuns,
I shall die soon. I do not say that it
will be in a few months, but in two or
three years at most. I know it because of what
is taking place in my soul. The novices betrayed surprise
when she read their inmost thoughts. This is my secret,

(36:11):
she said to them. I never reprimand you without first
invoking our blessed Lady and asking her to inspire me
as to what will be most for your good. And
I am often astonished myself at the things I teach you.
At such times, I feel that I make no mistake,
and that it is Jesus who speaks by my lips.
During her illness, one of her sisters had experienced some

(36:32):
moments of acute distress, amounting almost to discouragement at the
thought of the inevitable parting. Immediately afterwards, she went to
the infirmary, but was careful not to let any sign
of grief be seen. What was her surprise when theres
in a sad and serious tone, thus addressed her, we
ought not to weep like those who have no hope.

(36:54):
One of the mothers, having come to visit her, did
her a trifling service. How happy I should be thought
if this angel would only say, I will repay you
in heaven. At that instant, sore Therese, turning to her, said, mother,
I will repay you in heaven. But more surprising than
all was her consciousness of the mission for which our

(37:14):
Lord had destined her. The veil which hides the future
seemed lifted, and more than once she revealed to us
its secrets in prophecies which have already been realized. I
have never given the good God aught but love. It
is with love he will repay. After my death. I
will let fall a shower of roses. At another time,

(37:35):
she interrupted a sister who was speaking to her of
the happiness of heaven by the sublime words It is
not that which attracts me and what attracts you? Asked
the other. Oh, it is love to love, to be beloved,
and to return to earth to win love for our love.
One evening she welcomed Mother Agnes of Jesus with an

(37:55):
extraordinary expression of joy. Mother, she said, some notes for
from a concert far away have just reached my ears
and have made me think that soon I shall be
listening to the wondrous melodies of Paradise. The thought, however,
gave me but a moment's joy. One hope alone makes
my heart beat fast. The love that I shall receive
and the love I shall be able to give. I

(38:17):
feel that my mission is soon to begin, my mission
to make others love God. Is I love Him to
each Soul's my little way I will spend my heaven
in doing good upon earth. Nor is this impossible, since
the very heart of the beatific vision the angels keep
watch over us. No, there can be no rest for
me until the end of the world. But when the

(38:37):
angels shall say time is no more, then I shall rest.
Then I shall be able to rejoice because the number
of the elect will be complete. And what is this
little way that you would teach to souls. It is
the way of spiritual childhood, the way of trust and
absolute self surrender. I want to point out to them
the means that I have always found so perfectly success,

(39:00):
to tell them that there is but one thing to
do here below. We must offer Jesus the flowers of
little sacrifices and win him by a caress. That is
how I have won him, and that is why I
shall be made so welcome. Should I guide you wrongly
by my little way of love, she said to a novice,
do not fear that I shall allow you to continue therein.

(39:21):
I should soon come back to earth and tell you
to take another road. If I do not return, then
believe in the truth of these my words. We can
never have too much confidence in the Good God. He
is so mighty, so merciful. As we hope in him,
so shall we receive. On the eve of the feast
of our Lady of Mount Carmel, a novice said to her,

(39:43):
I think that if you were to die tomorrow after
holy communion, I should be quite consoled. It would be
such a beautiful death. Theres answered, quickly, die after holy
communion upon a great feast. Nay, not so. In my
little way, everything is most ordinary. All that I do,
little souls must be able to do likewise. And to

(40:04):
one of her missionary brothers, she wrote, what draws me
to my heavenly home is the summons of my Lord,
together with the hope that at length I shall love
him as my heart desires, and shall be able to
make him loved by a multitude of souls who will
bless him throughout eternity. In another letter to China, I
trust fully that I shall not remain idle in heaven

(40:25):
my desires to continue my work for the Church and
for souls. I ask this of God, and I am
convinced he will hear my prayer. You see that if
I quit the battlefield so soon, it is not from
a selfish desire of repose. For a long time now,
suffering has been my heaven here upon earth, and I
can hardly conceive how I shall be acclimatized to a

(40:45):
land where joy is unmixed with sorrow. Jesus will certainly
have to work a complete change in my soul, else
I could never support the ecstasies of paradise. It was
quite true suffering had become her heaven upon earth. She
welcomed it as we do happiness. When I suffer much,
she would say, when something painful or disagreeable happens to me,

(41:06):
instead of a melancholy look, I answer by a smile.
At first I did not always succeed, but now it
has become a habit which I am glad to have acquired.
A certain sister entertained doubts concerning the patience of Terrez.
One day during a visit. She remarked that the invalid's
face wore an expression of unearthly joy, and she sought

(41:26):
to know the reason. It is because the pain is
so acute just now, theres replied, I have always forced
myself to love suffering and to give it a glad welcome.
Why are you so bright this morning, asked Mother Agnes
of Jesus, because of two little crosses. Nothing gives me
little joys like little crosses. And another time. You have

(41:46):
had many trials today, Yes, but I love them. I
love all the good God sends me. Your sufferings are terrible, No,
they are not terrible. Can a little victim of love
find anything terrible that is sent by her spouse? Each
moment he sends me what I am able to bear,
and nothing more. And if he increase the pain, my
strength is increased as well. But I could never ask

(42:10):
for greater sufferings. I am too little a soul. They
would then be of my own choice. I should have
to bear them all without him, and I have never
been able to do anything when left to myself. Thus
spoke that wise and prudent virgin on her death bed,
and her lamp filled to the brim with the oil
of virtue, burn brightly to the end. If, as the

(42:30):
Holy Spirit reminds us in the Book of Proverbs, a
man's doctrine is proved by his patients footnote cross reference
Proverbs nineteen, verse eleven, and footnote. Those who have heard
her may well believe in her doctrine, for she has
proved it by a patience no test could overcome. At
each visit, the doctor expressed his admiration, if only you

(42:53):
knew what she has to endure. I have never seen
anyone suffer so intensely, with such a look of supernatural joy.
I shall not be able to cure her. She was
not made for this earth. In view of her extreme weakness,
he ordered some strengthening remedies. Theres was at first distressed
because of their cost, but afterwards she admitted, I am

(43:13):
no longer troubled at having to take those expensive remedies,
for I have read that when they were given to
Saint Gertrude. She was gladdened by the thought that it
would redound to the good of our benefactors. Since our
Lord himself has said, whatever you do to the least
of my little ones, you do unto me Matthew twenty five,
verse forty nine, I am convinced that medicines are powerless

(43:35):
to cure me, she added, But I have made a
covenant with God that the poor missionaries, who have neither
time nor means to take care of themselves, may profit thereby.
She was much moved by the constant gifts of flowers
made to her by her friends outside the convent, and
again by the visits of a sweet little red breast
that loved to play about her bed. She saw in
these things the hand of God. Mother. I feel deeply

(43:58):
the many touching proofs of God's love for me. I
am laden with them. Nevertheless, I continue in the deepest gloom.
I suffer much, very much, and yet my state is
one of profound peace. All my longings have been realized.
I am full of confidence. Shortly afterwards she told me
this touching little incident. One evening, during the Great Silence,

(44:20):
the infirmarian brought me a hot water bottle for my
feet and put tincture of iodine on my chest. I
was in a burning fever and parched with thirst, and
whilst submitting to these remedies, I could not help saying
to our Lord, my Jesus, thou seest, I am already burning,
and they have brought me more heat and fire. Oh,
if they had brought me even half a glass of water,

(44:41):
what a comfort it would have been. My Jesus, thy
little child is so thirsty, but she is glad to
have this opportunity of resembling THEE more closely, and thus
helping THEE to save souls. The infirmarian soon left me,
and I did not expect to see her again until
the following morning. What was my surp when she returned
a few minutes later with a refreshing drink. It has

(45:03):
just struck me that you may be thirsty, she said,
so I shall bring you something every evening. I looked
at her, astounded and when I was once more alone,
I melted into tears. Oh how good Jesus is, how
tender and loving, how easy it is to reach his heart.
On September sixth, the little spouse of Jesus received a
touching proof of the loving thought of his sacred heart.

(45:26):
She had frequently expressed a wish to possess a relic
of her special patron, the venerable Theophane Vnard, But as
her desire was not realized, she said no more. She
was quite overcome. Therefore, when Mother Prioress brought her the
long fore treasure received that very day, she kissed it
repeatedly and would not consent to part with it. It

(45:46):
may be asked why she was so devoted to this
young martyr. She herself explained the reason in an affectionate
interview with her own sisters. Theophane Vnard is a little saint.
His life was not marked by anything extraordinary. He had
an ardent devotion to our immaculate Mother and a tender
love of his own family. Dwelling on these words, she added,

(46:08):
and I too love my family with a tender love.
I fail to understand those saints who do not share
my feelings as a parting gift. I have copied for
you some passages from his last letters home. His soul
and mind have many points of resemblance, and his words
do but re echo my thoughts. We give here a
copy of that letter, which one might have believed was

(46:29):
composed by Terres herself. I can find nothing on earth
that can make me truly happy. The desires of my
heart are too vast, and nothing of what the world
calls happiness can satisfy it. Time for me will soon
be no more. My thoughts are fixed on eternity. My
heart is full of peace, like a tranquil lake or
a cloudless sky. I do not regret this life on earth.

(46:52):
I thirst for the waters of life eternal. Yet a
little while and my soul will have quitted this earth,
will have finished, her exile, will have ended her combat.
I go to Heaven. I am about to enter the
abode of the blessed, to see what the eye hath
never seen, to hear what the ear hath never heard,
to enjoy those things the heart of man hath not conceived.

(47:13):
I have reached the hour so coveted by us all.
It is indeed true that our Lord chooses the little
ones to confound the great ones of this earth. I
do not rely upon my own strength, but upon him
who on the cross vanquished the powers of Hell. I
am a spring flower which the Divine Master calls for
his pleasure. We are all flowers planted on this earth,

(47:35):
and God will gather us in his own good time,
some sooner, some later. I, little flower of one day,
am the first to be gathered. But we shall meet
again in paradise, where lasting joy will be our portion.
Sister Theresa of the Child Jesus, using the words of
the angelic murdyr Theophane Bernard, toward the end of September,

(47:57):
when something was repeated to her that had been said
at recreation concerning the responsibility of those who have care
of souls, she seemed to revive a little and gave
utterance to these beautiful words to him. That is little
mercy is granted Wisdom six, verse seven. It is possible
to remain little, even in the most responsible position. And

(48:17):
is it not written that at the last day the
Lord will arise to save the meek and lowly ones
of the earth. Footnote cross reference Psalm seventy five seventy six,
verse ten, and footnote, he does not say to judge,
but to save. As time went on, the tide of
suffering rose higher and higher, and she became so weak

(48:38):
that she was unable to make the slightest movement without assistance,
even to hear anyone whisper increased her discomfort, and the
fever and oppression were so extreme that it was with
the greatest difficulty she was able to articulate a word,
and yet a sweet smile was always on her lips.
Her only fear was lest she should give her sisters
any extra trouble, and until two days before her death,

(49:00):
she would never allow anyone to remain with her during
the night. However, in spite of her entreaties, the infirmarian
would visit her from time to time. On one occasion
she found tores with hands joined and eyes raised to Heaven.
What are you doing, she asked, You ought to try
to go to sleep. I cannot, sister, I am suffering
too much, so I am praying. And what do you

(49:22):
say to Jesus? I say nothing. I only love him.
Oh how good God is? She sometimes exclaimed, Truly he
must be very good to give me strength to bear
all I have to suffer. One day, she said to
the mother Prioress, Mother, I would like to make known
to you the state of my soul, but I cannot.
I feel too much overcome. Just now in the evening,

(49:44):
theres sent her these lines written in pencil with a
trembling hand. Oh my God, how good thou art to
the little victim of thy merciful love. Now, even when
thou joinest these bodily pains to those of my soul,
I cannot bring myself to say the anguish of death
half encompassed me. Footnote cross reference Psalm seventeen eighteen, verse five,

(50:06):
and footnote. I rather cry out in my gratitude. I
have gone down into the valley of the shadow of death.
But I fear no evil because thou, o Lord, art
with me. Footnote cross reference Psalm twenty two twenty three,
verse four, and footnote. Her little mother said to her,
some think that you are afraid of death that may

(50:28):
easily come to pass. She answered, I do not rely
on my own feelings, for I know how frail I am.
It will be time enough to bear that cross if
it comes meantime. I wish to rejoice in my present happiness.
When the chaplain asked me, if I was resigned to die,
I answered, Father, I need rather to be resigned to live.
I feel nothing but joy at the thought of death.

(50:50):
Do not be troubled, dear mother, if I suffer much
and show no sign of happiness at the end, did
not our Lord himself die a victim of love? And
see how great it was his agony at last don
the eternal day. It was Thursday, September thirty, eighteen ninety seven.
In the morning, the sweet Victim, her eyes fixed on
our Lady's statue, spoke thus of her last night on earth. Oh,

(51:14):
with what fervor I have prayed to her, And yet
it has been pure agony, without a ray of consolation.
Earth's air is failing me. When shall I breathe the
air of heaven? For weeks she had been unable to
raise herself in bed, but at half past two in
the afternoon, she sat up and exclaimed, Dear Mother, the
chalice is full to overflowing. I could never have believed

(51:36):
that it was possible to sever so intensely. I can
only explain it by my extreme desire to save souls.
And a little while after yes, all that I have
written about my thirst for suffering is really true. I
do not regret having surrendered myself to love. She repeated
these last words several times. A little later she added, Mother,

(51:57):
prepare me to die. Well, the good mother Prius encouraged
her with these words, my child, you are quite ready
to appear before God, for you have always understood the
virtue of humility. Then, in striking words, Teresbore witnessed to herself, Yes,
I feel it. My soul has ever sought the truth.
I have understood the humility of heart. At half past four,

(52:20):
her agony began the agony of this victim of divine love.
When the community gathered round her, she thanked them with
the sweetest smile, and then, completely given over to love
and suffering. The crucifix clasped in her failing hands, she
entered on the final combat. The sweat of death lay
heavy on her brow. She trembled, But as a pilot

(52:41):
when close to harbor, is not dismayed by the fury
of the storm. So this soul, strong in faith, saw
close at hand the beacon lights of heaven, and valiantly
put forth every effort to reach the shore. As the
convent bells rang, the evening Angelus. She fixed an inexpressible
look upon the statue of the Immaculate Virgin of the Sea.

(53:01):
Was it not the moment to repeat her beautiful prayer?
O Thou who camest to smile on me in the
morn of my life, come once again and smile mother,
For now it is even tide. Footnote from the last
poem written by sore to Res and footnote. A few
minutes after seven, turning to the Prioress, the poor little
martyr asked, mother, is it not the agony? Am I

(53:24):
not going to die? Yes, my child, it is the agony.
But Jesus perhaps wills that it be prolonged for some hours.
In a sweet and plaintive voice, she replied, ah, very well, then,
very well, I do not wish to suffer less. Then,
looking at her crucifix, Oh, I love him, my God,
I love thee. These were her last words. She had

(53:48):
scarcely uttered them, when, to our great surprise, she sank
down quite suddenly, her head inclined a little to the right,
in the attitude of the virgin martyrs offering themselves to
the sword, or rather as a victim of love awaiting
from the divine archer, the fiery shaft by which she
longs to die. Suddenly she raised herself, as though called

(54:08):
by a mysterious voice, and, opening her eyes, which shone
with unutterable happiness and peace, fixed her gaze a little
above the statue of our lady. Thus she remained for
about the space of a credo, when her blessed soul,
now become the prey of the divine eagle, was borne
away to the heights of heaven. A few days before
her death, this little saint had said, the death of love,

(54:31):
which I so much desire, is that of Jesus upon
the cross. Her prayer was fully granted, Darkness enveloped her,
and her soul was steeped in anguish. And yet may
we not apply to her also that sublime prophecy of
Saint John of the Cross, referring to souls consumed by
the fire of divine love. They die victims of the
onslaughts of love, in raptured ecstasies, like the swan, whose

(54:55):
song grows sweeter as death draws nigh. Wherefore the Psalmist declared,
prescious in the sight of the Lord is the death
of his saints. Psalm one fifteen one sixteen, verse fifteen.
For then it is the rivers of love that burst
forth from the soul and are overwhelmed in the ocean
of divine love. No sooner had her spotless soul taken

(55:16):
its flight, than the joy of that last rapture imprinted
itself on her brow, and a radiant smile illumined her face.
We placed a palm branch in her hand, and the
lilies and roses that adorned her in death were figures
of her white robe of baptism, made red by her
martyrdom of love. On the Saturday and Sunday, a large
crowd passed before the grating of the nun's chapel to

(55:37):
gaze on the mortal remains of the Little Flower of Jesus.
Hundreds of metals and rosaries were brought to touch the
little Queen as she lay in the triumphant beauty of
her last sleep. On October fourth, the day of the funeral,
there gathered in the chapel of the carmel a goodly
company of priests. The honor was surely due to one
who had prayed so earnestly for those called to that

(55:58):
sacred office after a life a solemn blessing. This grain
of priceless wheat was cast into the furrow by the
hands of Holy Mother Church. Who shall tell how many
ripen ears have sprung forth since, how many the sheaves
that are yet to come. Amen. Amen, I say to you,
unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground die, itself,

(56:18):
remaineth alone. But if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
John twelve, verses twenty four twenty five. Once more the
word of the Divine Reaper has been magnificently fulfilled. The
prioress of the Caramel and of the epilogue, end of
the Story of a Soul, The Autobiography of Saint Herez

(56:41):
of Lcieux, translated by Thomas Taylor,