----
But years passed, and Teresa too, like Our Divine Lord, "advanced in wisdom, and age, and grace with God and men." But never did she lose the simplicity and sweet charm of her childhood days. If then she delighted to cast her flowers before the Eucharistic King, and her heart leaped with joy as her petals touched the sacred Monstrance, she now continued each day to scatter her blossoms before God, but hereafter these flowers were to be her sacrifices and prayers, her joys and sufferings of life, all offered up in the trusting spirit of childhood, with the utmost love and self-abandonment.
"But how should I show my love, since love proves itself by deeds?" she asks, and her answer comes: "Well, the little child will strew flowers. She will embalm the Divine Heart with their fragrance. She will sing Love's canticle in silvery tones."
Well may we fancy her words as joyously reminiscent of those Blessed Sacrament Processions of earlier days, the happy memory of which clung like a perfume to her heart. How redolent with these odors are the thoughts that follow!
"The only way I have of proving my love is to strew flowers before Thee-- that is to say, I will let no tiny sacrifice pass, no look, no word. I wish to profit by the smallest actions, and to do them for Love. I wish to suffer for Love's sake, and for Love's sake even to rejoice; thus shall I strew my flowers. But not one shall I find without scattering its petals before Thee. And I will sing, I will sing always, even if my roses must be gathered for amidst thorns; and the longer and the sharper the thorns, the sweeter shall be my song."
How beautifully Eucharistic, then, the entire concept is! How it reminds us of those ranks of little, white-clad children, with innocence beaming upon their bright and happy faces, as they solemnly strew their blossoms in the path-way of the King, as He is borne aloft between them in His golden Monstrance! And how often, too, the Little Flower scattered those petals of her roses before that Altar Throne in the Carmel's silent chapel, where her soul found its sweetest resting place. "This fragrant shower, these delicate petals of little price, these songs of love from a poor little heart," she knew were pleasing to Jesus, refreshing to His Heart, like as the rose-leaves strewn by children's hands.
"Trifles they are, but Thou wilt smile on them. The Church Triumphant, stooping towards her child, will gather up these scattered rose-leaves, and, placing them in Thy Divine Hands, there to acquire an infinite value, will shower them on the Church Suffering to extinguish its flames, and on the Church Militant to obtain its victory."
Such were the results in large part due to that Eucharistic devotion practised by her from childhood and constantly intensified with the years, until from the shelter of the Carmel she might melodiously sing:
"My Heaven within the Host safe hid and perfect lies,
Where Jesus Christ abides, Divinest, fairest Fair;
From that great fount of love shall life eternal rise,
There night and day my Lord gives heed unto my prayer."
Parents should learn to stimulate in the hearts of their children, even from their tenderest years, those Eucharistic longings and affections which worked so mightily within the soul of little Teresa, and which helped so greatly to keep it always pure, holy and beautiful. Let us not deprive out little ones of their sublimest heritage, the love of Jesus in the Eucharist.
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