The angel of children

My name is Micaël. I am one of the Spirits appointed to the guardianship of children. What a sweet mission! And what happiness it brings to the soul! You ask whether I am referring to the guardianship of children? But do they not have their mothers, good angels appointed to that guardianship? And why is a Spirit still needed to attend to them? Do you then not think of those who no longer have that good mother? Unfortunately there are such children, and many? And will the mother herself not sometimes have need of help? Who rouses her in the midst of her first sleep? Who makes her sense the danger? Who thinks of relieving her when the affliction is grave? We do, always we; we who turn the mischievous child away from the precipice toward which it runs; who turn away from it the harmful animals and keep away the fire that might mingle with its blond hair. Our mission is gentle! It is still we who inspire in them compassion for the poor, gentleness, kindness; no child, even the worst of them, could anger us. There is always an instant in which its little heart lies open to us. Some of you will be astonished at this mission. But do you not often say: there is a God for children? above all for poor children? No, there is not a God, but angels, friends. And how else could you explain these miraculous deliverances? There exist still many other powers whose existence you do not even suspect. There is the Spirit of flowers, of perfumes; there are thousands of them, whose missions, more or less elevated, would seem to you delightful and enviable, after your harsh life of trials. I shall exhort them to come into your midst. At this moment I am rewarded for a life entirely devoted to children. Married young to a man who had several children, I did not have the happiness of having any of my own. Wholly devoted to them, God, the good and sovereign Lord, granted me to be still a guardian of children. A sweet and holy mission! I repeat it, whose influence the mothers here present could not deny. Farewell, I go to the bedside of my little charges. The hour of sleep is my hour, and I must visit all those little closed eyes. Know that the good angel who watches over them is not an allegory, but a truth.