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Ms A 64r

[64r°] prophesying martyrdom. It’s the hand of the Spouse of Virgins, the King of Glory, rendering His faithful servant’s head resplendent. Forever this adorable hand will rest on this head which He has glorified!

At the termination of the audience, [5] my dear Father was grieved to find me in tears. He did his best to console me but without success. In the bottom of my heart I felt a great peace, since I had done everything in my power to answer what God was asking of me. This peace, however, was in the depths only; bitterness filled my soul, for Jesus was silent. [10] He seemed to be absent, nothing served to reveal His presence. That day, too, the sun dared not shine and Italy’s beautiful blue skies, covered with dark clouds, never stopped crying with me. Ah! it was all over; my trip no longer held any attraction for me since its purpose had failed. The final words of the Pontiff should have consoled me, for [15] were they not a real prophecy? In spite of all obstacles, what God willed was really accomplished. He did not allow creatures to do what they willed but what He willed.

I had offered myself, for some time now, to the Child Jesus as His little plaything. I told Him not to use me as a valuable toy children [20] are content to look at but dare not touch, but to use me like a little ball of no value which He could throw on the ground, push with His foot, pierce, leave in a corner, or press to His heart if it pleased Him; in a word, I wanted to amuse little Jesus, to give Him pleasure; I wanted to give myself up to His childish whims. He heard my prayer.

At Rome, Jesus pierced His little plaything; He wanted to see what there was inside it and having seen, content with His discovery, He let His little

 

 

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