She
was the great passion of every soul, she, the Virgin most powerful, the
Virgin most merciful, the Mirror of Justice, the Seat of Wisdom.* All
hands were stretched towards her, Mystical Rose in the dim light of the
chapels, Tower of Ivory on the horizon of dreamland, Gate of Heaven
leading into the Infinite. Each day at early dawn she shone forth, bright
Morning Star, gay with juvenescent hope. And was she not also the Health
of the weak, the Refuge of sinners, the Comforter of the afflicted?
France had ever been her well-loved country, she was adored there with an
ardent worship, the worship of her womanhood and her motherhood, the
soaring of a divine affection; and it was particularly in France that it
pleased her to show herself to little shepherdesses. She was so good to
the little and the humble; she continually occupied herself with them;
and if she was appealed to so willingly it was because she was known to
be the intermediary of love betwixt Earth and Heaven. Every evening she
wept tears of gold at the feet of her divine Son to obtain favours from
Him, and these favours were the miracles which He permitted her to
work,--these beautiful, flower-like miracles, as sweet-scented as the
roses of Paradise, so prodigiously splendid and fragrant.
* For the information of Protestant and other non-Catholic readers
it may be mentioned that all the titles enumerated in this passage
are taken from the Litany of the Blessed Virgin.--Trans.
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