October 28, 1947prev home next
The supernatural joy, the joy which cannot be described, which would be nearly fatal unless, along with the gift, You communicated supernatural strength capable of withstanding this immense joy, of holding You on my lap, on the linen, as Mary held You as a wailing Newborn in the Bethlehem Grotto.... And the compassion - which is also ecstasy, though filled with pain and tears - of holding You, dead, on my lap, in your painful appearance as the Immolated One, as your Mother held You at the foot of the Cross....
Thank You, Lord. I am not worthy of these divine favors....
The warmth of your little pink body as a newborn Baby went straight to my heart. My dear Infant Jesus! To kiss your tender flesh, your little hands reaching out, your tiny, pink feet, your minute, innocent eyes and mouth - oh, how innocent! And the chill of your Body heavy with death, red with blood, bruised with blows, and not knowing where to kiss You so as not to graze against one of your wounds or bruises, and weeping over You alone.... This chill of. your dead Body also went straight to my heart.... Did you feel the flames of my compassionate love, which would have liked to provide warmth to your frozen Body?