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 "only the hand of God, directing all for the good of her soul." In crosses and trials she often wrote: "The hand of Jesus it is that guides everything—we ought to see only Him in all things." When a wholly unexpected and most bitter disappointment came to her, so great that her tears flowed freely, she wrote to her sister: "Oh, what a blow! But I feel that it is struck by a hand divinely jealous…. It is Jesus who has guided this affair; it is He, and I have recognized His touch of love…. It is not a human hand that has done this; it is Jesus, His eyes have fallen upon us. Let us accept with a good heart the thorn that Jesus presents to us…." Having offered herself to the Child Jesus as a little ball, when she suffered much, she said: "Jesus riddles His 'little ball' with pin-pricks that hurt indeed, though when they come from the hand of this loving Friend, the pain is all sweetness, so gentle is the touch." Seeing His "hand of love" in all, she had no fears: "I am a 'slender reed,' planted on the shore of the waters of love and tribulation, but reeds bend without breaking, and how could I get broken, since whatever happens, I see only the gentle hand of Jesus!" Hence she concludes: "I am happy, most happy, to suffer! If Jesus Himself does not pierce me He guides the hand that does." If I but looked behind the veil in pain, be it exterior or interior, and saw only the "gentle hand of Jesus," what strength, peace, and joy would be mine in suffering!

(3) —The presence of God and the seeing of His gentle hand in all suffering did not in the least lessen the exquisite physical pain or mental anguish of St. Therese. She suffered most intensely just the same, but it was in deep peace, for she had made it her rule to live only in the present moment, realizing that the cross of the present is ever accompanied by its measure of grace, and thus rendered bearable, while grace is not at hand for the anticipated crosses of the future. She has given expression to her view in her beautiful poem: "My Song of Today":—

What matters it, O Lord, if dark the future hover?