Hitherto the inmates of Hohenbourg had been subjected to no written rule.
Our dear saint was their living guide. But notwithstanding the ardor of
their piety, she thought it proper to adopt some definite rule to obviate
the inconstancy of the human heart, and to restrain an excess of fervor.
Assembling all her spiritual children, she gave them, after invoking the
Holy Spirit, a fixed rule, probably drawn from that of S. Augustine.
The steepness of Hohenbourg made it so difficult of ascent for the aged
and infirm, the very ones whom Odile desired the most to aid, that she
resolved to build at its foot, on the south side, a spacious hospice with
a chapel, under the invocation of S. Nicholas.
Berswinde, who was still living, gave up a part of her revenues for the
benefit of the poor who were received there. S. Odile daily descended this
mountain, too steep and rough for others, to visit the hospice. She used
to visit each inmate, and give him alms and advice with all the tenderness
Christianity alone can inspire. Her children shared in her labors. They
loved the freshness and solitude of the spot where the hospice stood, and
there was an abundance of water there, which was lacking on the summit.
The number of the infirm that resorted hither became so large as to
require, night and day, the constant attendance of the Sisters, and they
begged the abbess to build another monastery near S. Nicholas, and
dependent on that of Hohenbourg. Odile consented.
One day, while she was occupied in overseeing the workmen, an aged man
brought three branches of a linden‐tree, begging her to plant them. He
predicted that the faithful would come to sit beneath their shade. Odile
did as he requested, planting the first in the name of the Father, the
second in the name of the Son, and the third in the name of the Holy
Ghost. In fact, successive generations have sought repose beneath them,
according to the old man’s prediction. Odile gave this new monastery the
name of Niedermünster (Lower Minster). She established there one‐half of
the community of Hohenbourg, retaining herself the direction of both
houses. She placed in the new house those who were most zealous in nursing
the sick, and had the greatest aptitude for it.
Many foreign ladies, drawn to Alsace by Odile’s reputation for sanctity,
were among their number. They lived at Niedermünster in obedience to the
rule of Hohenbourg, and led lives of austerity. These two cloisters, says
Father Hugo Peltre, might be compared to two trees, apparently separated,
but really drawing nourishment from the same root.
Odile, though advancing in years and broken down by her excessive
austerities, daily descended the mountain. Neither frost nor rain nor
fierce winds prevented her from visiting the hospice, which was her place
of delight, for there she found a vast field for her charity. She was in
the habit of saying: “Jesus Christ has given us the poor to supply his
place. In caring for them we serve the Saviour in their person.” The whole
of Alsace blessed her name, seeing her constantly occupied in solacing
suffering humanity, in guiding her spiritual children in the paths of
holiness, and in instructing the people in the sublime truths of the
Gospel.
There is a legend that Odile, bent down by the weight of years, was one
day ascending the mountain alone when she saw lying in the path an old man
dying of thirst and apparently breathing his last. Our saint tried to
raise him, but, too feeble to do so, she had recourse to the divine
assistance. After a fervent prayer, remembering what Moses did, she smote
a rock close by with her staff. A stream burst forth immediately, which
restored the old pilgrim to life. This fount is still venerated and
frequented. The water is considered miraculous.