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He would pour those poisonous bitters; if then there were
sins of dishonesty, He would pour something of a stinking

rottenness, and when I would return into myself, I could feel
that stink so well, and the stench was such that it would revolt
my stomach and I would feel faint. And sometimes, when
taking food and, afterwards, when I would bring it up, I could

feel that rot come out of my mouth, mixed with the food.

Sometimes, then, He would bring me into churches, and
even there my Good Jesus was offended. O! how awfully
those works reached His Heart Holy works, yes, but done
roughly; those prayers empty of interior spirit; that piety,

false, apparent it only seemed to give more insult than honour
to Jesus. Ah! yes, that Holy, Pure, Upright Heart could not
receive those works, done so badly. O! how many times He

lamented, saying: “Daughter, even from those people who
are said to be devout, see how many offenses they give Me
even in the Holiest Places. In receiving the very Sacraments,
instead of coming out purified, they come out dirtier.”

Ah! yes, how much pain it was for Jesus to see people
receiving Communion sacrilegiously; priests celebrating the

Holy Sacrifice of the Mass in mortal sin, out of habit; and
Some a horror to say it even out of interest. O! how many
times my Jesus made me see these scenes so painful. How
many times, while the priest was celebrating the Sacrosanct

Mystery, Jesus is forced to go into his hands, because He is
called by the priestly authority. One could see those hands

dripping with rot, blood, or smeared with mud. O! how pitiful
then, was the state of Jesus, so Holy, so Pure, in those hands
which struck horror at the mere sight. It seemed He wanted
to escape from between those hands, but He was forced to

stay until the species of bread and wine would be consumed.

Sometimes, while remaining there with the priest, He

would come hurriedly toward me, all lamenting, and before I
could say it, He Himself would say to me: “Daughter, let Me
pour it into you, for I can take no more. Have pity on My state,

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