The pen of Soeur Therese herself must now take up the narrative. It will do so in words that do not merely tell of love but set the heart on fire, and at the same time lay bare the workings of God in a soul that "since the age of three never refused the Good God anything." The writing of this Autobiography was an act of obedience, and the Prioress who imposed the task sought, in all simplicity, her own personal edification. But the fragrance of its pages was such that she was advised to publish them to the world. She did so in 1899 under the title of _L'Histoire d'une Ame._ An English version by M. H. Dziewicki appeared in 1901. This new translation relates more fully the story of the childhood, girlhood, and brief convent days of Soeur Therese. It tells of her "Roses," and sets forth again, in our world-wide tongue, her world-wide embassy--the ever ancient message of God's Merciful Love, the ever new _way_ to Him of "confidence and self-surrender." The Editor. ______________________________ [1] The baptismal entry, with its numerous signatures, is shown to visitors, and a tablet in the baptistry of the beautiful Gothic church tells the pilgrim that here the "Little Queen" was made a child of God. [Ed.] [2] _"As Little Children"_: the abridged life of Soeur Therese. Published at the Orphans' Press, Rochdale. [3] Francis Thompson. ______________________________ THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SOEUR THERESE OF LISIEUX, ENTITLED BY HERSELF: "THE STORY OF THE SPRINGTIME OF A LITTLE WHITE FLOWER" ______________________________ CHAPTER I EARLIEST MEMORIES It is to you, dear Mother, that I am about to confide the story of my soul. When you asked me to write it, I feared the task might unsettle me, but since then Our Lord has deigned to make me understand that by simple obedience I shall please Him best. I begin therefore to sing what must be my eternal song: "the Mercies of the Lord."[1] Before setting about my task I knelt before the statue of Our Lady which had given my family so many proofs of Our Heavenly Mother's loving care.[2] As I knelt I begged of that dear Mother to guide my hand, and thus ensure that only what was pleasing to her should find place here. Then opening the Gospels, my eyes fell on these words: "Jesus, going up into a mountain, called unto Him whom He would Himself."[3] They threw a clear light upon the mystery of my vocation and of my entire life, and above all upon the favours which Our Lord has granted to my soul. He does not call those who are worthy, but those whom He will. As St. Paul says: "God will have mercy on whom He will have mercy.[4] So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy."[5]