Messages — Our Lady of La Salette

Come near, my children, be not afraid; I am here to tell you great news.

If my people will not submit, I shall be forced to let fall the arm of my Son. It is so strong, so heavy, that I can no longer withhold it.

For how long a time do I suffer for you! If I would not have my Son abandon you, I am compelled to pray to him without ceasing; and as to you, you take no heed of it.

However much you pray, however much you do, you will never recompense the pains I have taken for you.

Six days I have given you to labor, the seventh I have kept for myself; and they will not give it to me. It is this which makes the arm of my Son so heavy.

Those who drive the carts cannot swear without introducing the name of my Son. These are the two things which make the arm of my Son so heavy.

If the harvest is spoiled, it is all on your account. I gave you warning last year with the potatoes, but you did not heed it. On the contrary, when you found the potatoes spoiled, you swore, you took the name of my Son in vain. They will continue to spoil, and by Christmas there will be none left.

If you have wheat, it is no good to sow it; all you sow the insects will eat, and what comes up will fall into dust when you thrash it.

There will come a great famine. Before the famine comes, the children under seven years of age will be seized with trembling and will die in the hands of those who hold them; the others will do penance by the famine. The walnuts will become bad, and the grapes will rot.

If they are converted, the stones and rocks will change into mounds of wheat, and the potatoes will be self-sown in the fields.

Do you say your prayers well, my children?

You must say them well, morning and evening. When you cannot do better, say at least an Our Father and a Hail Mary; but when you have time, say more.

There are none who go to Mass except a few aged women. The rest work on Sunday all summer; then in the winter, when they know not what to do, they go to Mass only to mock at religion. During Lent, they go to the butcher’s like dogs.

Have you never seen wheat that is spoilt, my children?

But you, my child (to Maximin), must surely have seen some once, when you were at the farm of Coin with your father. The owner of the field said to your father: “Come, take away your cow; I will not give you any more of that wheat.” Your father answered: “No, give me some still; when the cow has eaten that, I will send her to the field which is spoiled.”

Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people.