Continue to think so vainly, and destruction will come to you. You are destroying yourself. You are like the snail in the Bay of Naples that likes to eat a certain small creature, which the snail cannot digest. The thing eaten in turn devours the snail from within.
You will be made an Islamic Republic and lose all your vaunted freedoms, unless you repent. Unless you turn back to Me, and honor and love Me above your gods, which you must also put away, you will be France no longer but an Islamic Republic, a dictatorship ruled by cruel and blood-thirsty clerics.
Your high culture cannot save you, not your music, art, or philosophy, or architecture, or literature, or language. All that will be swept away by the little thing from Africa you have ingested, and it will leave only an empty shell that was once called France. You once had great promise, but you chose pomp and privilege and you threw righteousness and honor away when you massacred and persecuted the Protestant Huguenots. They were the best of your people, and feared and honored Me, but you drove them out and slaughtered as many as you could get your bloody hands on.
You kept your dead form of religion, which later you discarded entirely in your revolution. From that time on, proud, strong men ruled you, and see to what depths the proud, strong man has brought you, O France!
The troubles are just beginning, for you continue to persecute My people among you--and even imprison them if they preach My gospel. They are the very best of your people, and you best citizens, and if you would listen to them you could spare yourself coming heartache, trouble, and destruction. Yet your foolish, proud, godless legislators hate me and My people--so I turn them too over to the little snail-eater. When he is through, Moslem clerics will rule in your government palaces unless you repent and turn back to Me. I have never ceased calling you, to enter into my sonship and love and peace.
Your lofty cathedrals are empty shells, filled with only tourists who come and go as empty as what they come to photograph. Once they were living temples in which I found worshipful hearts. They can be so again--and you will be saved by My hand, O France. I can make of you a sheep nation, not a goat nation which I will turn away into outer darkness. It is your choice--choose life! The Burden of France is ended.