As he spoke the blood mounted to his forehead, his eyes shone like stars, his whole visage seemed on fire with enthusiasm.

Dom Bruno, astonished at the vehemence of his words, opened his arms, and clasping him to his heart received him at once among his children. Then turning to those who stood around him, "My brothers," he said, "his is an undeniable vocation. May God of His clemency often send such labourers into the harvest of the Chartreuse." And to the young postulant, "Have confidence, my son, God will help you, and will love you, and you will love Him, and will serve Him among us. This is the miracle we expect you to work."

You will ask me, perhaps, what use our Blessed Father could make of this example. I will tell you. When he was admitting any young girl into your congregation, my sisters, he invariably referred to it. He used to speak to her only of Calvary, of the nails, the thorns, the crosses, of inward mortification, of surrender of will, and crucifixion of private judgment, of dying wholly to self, in order to live only with God, in God, and for God: in fine, of living no longer according to natural inclinations and feelings, but absolutely according to the spirit of faith, and of your congregation.

Did anyone object that your Order was not so rigorous, or severe, as he made it out to be; but that, on the contrary, the life led by its members was easy, without many outward austerities, as was proved by the fact that even the infirm and sickly were admitted into it, and attained to the same sanctity as the rest, he replied: "Believe me, that if the body is there preserved as if it were a vessel of election, the spirit is there tested and tried in all possible ways, since the spirit that fails to stand every possible trial is no stone fit for the building up of this congregation."

He went on to quote from the life of St. Bernard. Against that holy man it was once urged that the austerities and bodily macerations practised in his Order frightened away young men, and deterred them from entering it, "Many," said the Saint, "see our crosses, but see not how well we are able to carry them. It happens to our crosses, as it does to those which are painted on the walls of a church when the Bishop in consecrating it makes a second cross upon them with holy oil. The people see the cross made by the painter, but they do not see that with which the Bishop has covered it. Our crosses, so plainly visible, are softened by very many inward consolations, which are concealed from the eyes of worldlings because they understand not the spiritual things of God, nor see how we can find peace in this bitterness which so repels those whose only thought is of themselves, and of their own pleasures. In very truth," our Blessed Father continued, "the worldling may notice in the rosebed of religion only the loveliness of the flowers, and the sweetness of their perfume, but these conceal many a thorn. The crosses of community life are hidden because the sisters of this congregation have by interior mortification to make up for what is lacking in external austerities.

"This law of your Institute has been established out of consideration for the weak and infirm, who may be admitted among you, and to whose service the stronger members have to devote themselves. This is the reason why all who purpose to enter the Order have to resolve to make war to the death against their private judgment, and still more against their self-will and self-love. This is why all ought to mortify all their passions and affections, and absolutely to bend their understanding under the yoke of obedience, to live, in short, no longer according to the old man, but entirely according to the new man, in holiness and in justice. So to live as to bear a continual cross even until death, and dying upon it, with the Son of God, to say, With Christ I am nailed to the Cross, and I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me."[1]

[Footnote 1: Gal. ii. 19, 20.]

UPON FOLLOWING THE COMMON LIFE.

He always praised common life very highly. His exalted opinion of its merits made him refuse to allow the Sisters of the Visitation to practise extraordinary austerities in respect to dress or food. For these matters he prescribed rules such as can easily be observed by anyone who wishes to lead a christian life in the world. His spiritual daughters, following this direction, imitate the example of Jesus Christ, of His Blessed Mother, and of the disciples of our Lord, who led no other kind of life. For the rest, they have at all times to submit themselves to the discretion and judgment of their superiors, whose duty it is to decide for them on the expediency of extraordinary mortifications after hearing the circumstances of the case of any individual sister.

Our Saint himself often, indeed, practised bodily mortifications, but always with judgment and prudence, for he knew full well that the object of such austerities is the preservation of purity of soul, not the destruction of bodily health.

In one word, he practically set the life of Jesus Christ before that of St. John the Baptist.

UPON THE JUDGING OF VOCATIONS.

Although our Blessed Father has given you the fullest possible instructions on this subject, in his seventeenth Conference, entitled, On voting in a Community, I see that you are not quite satisfied in the matter.

I know very well that your dissatisfaction does not arise from any unworthy motive, but only from a conscientious desire to do your duty to God, and to the sisters whom you have in a way to judge. To relieve your minds of doubt, I am about to supplement the teaching of that Conference with a few thoughts suggested to me at various times by Blessed Francis himself, which I put before you in words of my own.

In the first place, we must be careful never to confuse the terms vocation and avocation, for their meaning is very different.

An avocation is the condition of life in which we serve God.

A vocation is His call to that condition of life. When we call a servant to command him to do something, the calling him is one thing, his obeying and employing himself as directed quite another; and this, even if he do the work precisely as he is told, and no more. Now, there are two sorts of vocation. The first is the call to faith or grace; the second, the call to a particular avocation in life.

To follow the first vocation, viz., to Faith, is necessary for salvation, since he who refuses to listen to this call and to obey its voice risks the loss of his immortal soul. A pagan or heretic called by God to embrace Christianity or to submit to the Catholic Church, and to the end neglecting this call, must needs be lost, for out of the true Church there is no salvation. Again, if a member of the true Church who is spiritually dead in mortal sin, refuse to listen to the call, or vocation, of preventing grace which bids him return to God by confession, or by contrition of heart, he is in a state of damnation.

Not so, however, with the second kind of call or vocation. As this is only to some particular condition of life in the world or the cloister, although we must not neglect it, but must listen with respect to what it may please God to say to our heart, yet essentially it is not of vital importance to the welfare of our soul that we should follow such a call, since, at the most, it is but an inward counsel, which may be acted upon or not according to our choice.

And now remember that the counsels given in Holy Scripture are not precepts.[1] Our Blessed Father has often said that it would be not only an error, but a heresy, to maintain that there is any kind of legitimate calling or avocation in which it is impossible to save one's soul. On the contrary, in each, grace is offered, by means of which we may safely walk before God in holiness and justice all the days of our life.

To deny this would be to cut off from the hope of salvation, not thousands only, but millions of men and women, those, namely, who are engaged all their lives long in occupations which they have undertaken, not only without a vocation from God, but sometimes even against their own inclination.

This is the teaching of this Blessed Father in his Philothea, where he says, "It is an error, nay, a heresy, to wish to exclude the highest holiness of life from the soldier's barrack, the mechanic's workshop, the courts of princes, or the household of married people."

He used to say that it is not sufficient merely to love our calling, but that our most earnest endeavours as true and faithful Christians should be to strive to attain perfection in that same calling.

He remarked, too, that we do wrong to waste time in arguing as to what that perfection consists in. The glory of God should be the one aim of every devout soul.

Only by the practice of virtue can that final end be reached, and no virtue unaccompanied by charity avails to attain to it. Therefore, charity is the bond of all perfection, nay, itself is all perfection.

He attached much more importance to the spirit in which a vocation is followed out, than to the mere fact of its being embraced.

And this because the salvation of our souls, which we shall owe to God's grace, does not depend so much on the nature of our particular vocation or calling, but on our own persevering faithful submission to the will of God, which will of God is the salvation of us all.

Now, as we can save our souls, so we can also lose them in any calling whatsoever.

Would you desire a more unmistakable vocation than that of King Saul, or one more glorious than that of Judas? Yet both were lost. Where will you find one more troubled, and more interrupted by sin, than that of King David? Yet in spite of all that happened to him, how happy was its issue.

The vocation of a certain young lady who resolved upon taking the veil, but only out of a sort of despair, and because irritated against her family, was nevertheless approved by our Blessed Father, who to justify his approval gave the following explanation.

"As regards the vocation of this young lady, I consider it good, mingled though it be in her mind with imperfections and desirable though it would have been that she should have come to God simply and solely for the sake of the happiness of being wholly His. Remember that those whom God calls to Himself are not all drawn by Him with the same kind, or degree, of motives.

"There are but few who give themselves absolutely to His service from the one only desire to be His, and to serve Him alone.

"Among the women whose conversion the Gospel has made famous, Magdalen alone came through love, and with love.

"The adulteress came through public shame, the woman of Samaria from private and individual self-reproach, the woman of Canaan in order to be healed of bodily infirmity. Again, among the saints, St. Paul, the first hermit, at the age of fifteen, took refuge in his cave to escape persecution. St. Ignatius Loyola came through distress and suffering, and so on with hundreds of others. We must not expect all to begin by being perfect. It matters little how we commence, provided only that we are firmly resolved to go on well, and to end well. Certainly Leah intruded with scant courtesy into Rachel's promised place, as the wife of Jacob, yet she afterwards conducted herself so irreproachably, and behaved with such modesty and sweetness, that to her rather than to Rachel was vouchsafed the blessing of being an ancestress of our Lord.

"Those who were compelled to come into the marriage feast in the Gospel, ate, and drank of the best, nor, had they been the guests for whom the banquet was prepared, could they have fared better. If, then, we would have a pledge of their good living and perseverance, we must lock at the good dispositions of those who enter Religion rather than at the motives which impel them: for there are many souls who would not have entered the convent at all if the world had smiled upon them, and whom we nevertheless may find to be resolute in trampling under their feet the vanities of that same world."

[Footnote 1: 1 Cor. vii.]

UPON PRUDENCE AND SIMPLICITY.

"I know not," said our Blessed Father, on one occasion, "what this poor virtue of prudence has done to me that I find it so difficult to love it: if I do so at all, it is only because I have no choice in the matter, seeing that it is the very salt of life, and a light to show us the way out of its difficulties.

"On the other hand, the beauty of simplicity charms me. I would rather possess the harmlessness of one dove than the wisdom of a hundred serpents. I know that a combination of wisdom and simplicity is useful, and that the Gospel recommends it to us;[1] but I am of opinion that in this matter it should be as it is with certain medicines, in which a minute dose of poison is mixed with many wholesome drugs. If the doses, of serpent and dove were equal, I would not trust the medicine; the serpent can kill the dove, the dove cannot kill the serpent. Besides, there is a sort of prudence that is human and worldly which Scripture calls carnal wisdom,[2] as it is only used for wrong-doing, and is so dangerous and so subtle that those who possess it are unconscious of their own danger. They deceive others, yet are the first to be themselves deceived.

"I am told that in an age so crafty as our own prudence is necessary, if only to prevent our being wronged. I say nothing against this dictum, but I do believe that more in harmony with the mind of the Gospel is that which teaches us that it is great wisdom in the sight of God to suffer men to devour us, and to take away our goods,[3] bearing the loss of them joyfully, knowing that a better and a more secure substance awaits us. In a word, a good Christian should always choose rather to be the anvil than the hammer, the robbed than the robber, the victim than the murderer, the martyr than the tyrant. Let the world rage, let the prudence of so-called philosophy stand aghast, let the flesh despair; it is better to be good and simple than clever and wicked."

[Footnote 1: Matt. x. 16.] [Footnote 2: Rom. viii. 6.] [Footnote 3: 2 Cor. xi. 20.]

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.

Some of the friends of our Saint, actuated by this spirit of worldly prudence, having seen the flattering reception given by the public to his Philothea, which had at once been translated into various languages, advised him not to write any more books, as it was impossible that any other work from his pen should meet with equal success.

These remarks were unwelcome to our Blessed Father, who afterwards said to me: "These good people no doubt love me, and their love makes them speak as they do, out of the abundance of their hearts; but if they will only be so good as to turn their eyes for a moment from me, vile and wretched as I am, and fix them upon God, they will soon change their note; for if it has pleased Him to give His blessing to that first little book of mine, why should He deny it to my next? And if from little Philothea He made His glory to shine forth, as He brought forth the light from darkness,[1] and the sacred fire from the clay[2], is His arm thereby shortened, or His power diminished? Can He not make living and thirst-quenching water flow forth from the jaw-bone of an ass? But these good people do not dwell upon such considerations; they think solely of my personal glory, as if we ought to desire credit for ourselves, and not rather ascribe all to God, who works in us whatever good seems to emanate from us.

"Now, according to the spirit of the Gospel, so far from its being right to depend upon the applause of the world, St. Paul declares that if we please men, we are not the servants of God,[3] the friendship of the world being enmity with God. If then that little book has brought to me some vain and unmerited praise, it would be well worth my while to build upon its foundation some inferior work, so as to beat down the smoke of this incense, and earn that contempt from men which makes us so much the more pleasing to God, because we are thereby more and more crucified to the world."

[Footnote 1: Gen. i. 2, 3.] [Footnote 2: Mach. i. 19, 22.] [Footnote 3: Gal. i. 10.]

UPON MENTAL PRAYER.

I once asked our Blessed Father if it was not better to take one single point for mental prayer, and to draw from this point one single affection and resolution, as I thought that by taking three points and deducing from them very many affections and resolutions great confusion and perplexity of mind were occasioned. He replied that unity and simplicity in all things, but especially in spiritual exercises, must always be preferred to multiplicity and complexity, but that to beginners, and to those little skilled in this exercise, several points should be proposed so as fully to occupy their minds.

I enquired whether, supposing that a single point were taken, it would not be better to dwell likewise upon only one affection and resolution rather than upon several. He answered that when Spring is richest in flowers, bees make the least honey, because they are so delighted to flutter from flower to flower that they do not give themselves time to extract the essence and spirit of which they form their combs. Drones make a great deal of noise and produce a very small result. And to the question whether it was not better often to repeat and dwell upon the same affection and resolution, rather than to develop and expand it by thinking it out, he replied that we ought to imitate painters and sculptors, who work by repeating again and again the strokes of their brush and chisel, and that in order to make a deep impression on the heart it is often necessary to go over the same thing many times.

He added that as those sink, who in swimming move their legs and arms too rapidly, it being necessary to stretch them leisurely and easily, so also those who are too eager in mental prayer, faint away in their thoughts, their distracted meditations causing them only pain and dissatisfaction.

I am asked to explain that saying attributed by our Blessed Father to the great St. Anthony, that he who prays ought to have his mind so fixed upon God, as even to forget that he is praying. Here is the explanation in our Saint's own words. He says in one of his Conferences: "The soul must be kept steadfastly in this path (that, namely, of love and confidence in God) without allowing it to waste its powers in continually trying to ascertain what precisely it is doing and whether its work is satisfactory. Alas! our satisfactions and consolations do not always satisfy God: they only feed that miserable love and care of ourselves which has to do neither with God nor with the thought of God. Certainly, children whom our Lord has set before us as models of the perfection to be aimed at by us are, generally speaking, especially in the presence of their parents, quite untroubled about what is to happen. They cling to them without a thought of providing for themselves. The pleasures their parents procure them they accept in good faith and enjoy in simplicity, without any curiosity whatever as to their causes or effects. The love they feel for their parents and their reliance upon them is all they need. Those whose one desire is to please the Divine Lover have neither inclination nor leisure to turn back upon themselves, for their minds tend continually in the direction whither love carries them."[1]

There is a saying of Tauler's, that holy man who wrote a book on mystic theology, which our Blessed Francis held in high esteem, and was never weary of inculcating upon those of his disciples who were anxious to lead a devout life, or who, having already entered upon it, needed encouragement to make progress in it. Tauler was asked where he, who was so great a contemplative, and who held such close and familiar communication with God, had found God. He answered, "Where I found myself." On being further asked where he had found himself, he said, "Where I forgot myself in God."

He went on to say, "We must lose ourselves in order to find ourselves in God, as it is written: He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that hateth his life in this—world keepeth it unto life eternal.[2] No man can serve two masters, God and mammon.[3] To follow one you must of necessity quit the other. There is no fellowship between light and darkness or between Christ and Belial.[4]

"The two lovers who built, one the City of Jerusalem, the other the City of Babylon, of whom St. Augustine speaks, have nothing in common. It is the struggle of Esau and Jacob over again."

[Footnote 1: Conf. xii.] [Footnote 2: John xii. 25.] [Footnote 3: St. Matt. 24.] [Footnote 4: Cor. vi. 14, 15.]

UPON ASPIRATIONS.

As the Saint's own ordinary and favourite spiritual exercise was the practice of the presence of God, so he advised those whom he directed in the ways of holiness to devote themselves most earnestly to recollection, and to the use of frequent aspirations or ejaculatory prayers.

On one occasion I asked him whether there would be more spiritual loss in omitting the exercise of mental prayer or in omitting that of recollection and aspirations. He answered that the omission of mental prayer might be repaired during the day or night by frequent withdrawal of the mind into God and by aspirations to Him, but that mental prayer unaccompanied by aspirations was, in his estimation, like a bird with clipped wings. He went on to say that: "by recollection we retire into God, and draw God into ourselves, as it is written: I opened my mouth, and panted, because I longed for Thy commandments,[1] by which is meant the mouth of the heart to which God always graciously inclines His ear. In the Canticle the bride says that her Beloved led her into His cellar of wine, he set in order charity in me.[2] Or, as another version has it, He enrolled me under the banner of His love. Just as wine is stored up in vaults or cellars, and as soldiers gather under their standards or banners; so all the faculties of our soul gather together around the goodness and love of God by short spiritual retreats, made from time to time throughout the day. But when are they made, and in what place? At any moment, and in any place, and there is no meal, or company, or employment, or occupation of any sort which can hinder them, just as they on their part neither hinder nor interfere with anything that has to be done. On the contrary, this is a salt which seasons every kind of food, or rather a sugar which never spoils any sauce. It consists only in inward glances from ourselves and from God, from ourselves into God, and from God into ourselves, without pictures or speech, or any outward aid; and the simpler this recollection is the better it is. As regards aspirations, they also are short but swift dartings of the soul into God, and can be made by a simple mental glance cast towards Him. Cast thy care, or thoughts, upon the Lord,[3] says David. The more vigorously an arrow is shot from the bow the more swift is its flight. The more vehement and loving is an aspiration, the more truly is it a spiritual lightning-flash. These transports or aspirations, of which we have so many formulas, are the better the shorter they are. One of St. Bruno seems to me excellent on account of its brevity: O goodness of God; that also of St. Francis, My God and my all! and that of St. Augustine, Oh! to love, to go forward, to die to self, to reach God!"

Our Blessed Father treats excellently of these two exercises in his Philothea, and recommends them strongly, saying that they hold to one another, as did Jacob and Esau at their birth, and follow one another, as do respiration and aspiration. And just as in respiration we draw the fresh outer air into our lungs, and by aspiration drive out that into which the heat of our bodies has entered, so by the breath of recollection we draw God into ourselves, or retire into God, and by aspirations we cast ourselves into the arms of His goodness.

Happy the soul that often thus breathes, and thus aspires, for she abides in God and God in her.

[Footnote 1: Psalm cxviii, 131.] [Footnote 2: Cant. ii. 4.] [Footnote 3: Psalm liv. 23.]

UPON INTERIOR RECOLLECTION AND EJACULATORY PRAYERS.

The two exercises which he especially recommended to his penitents were interior recollection and ejaculatory aspirations and prayers. By them, he said, the defects of all other spiritual exercises might be remedied, and without them those others were saltless, that is, without savour. He called interior recollection the collecting or gathering up of all the powers of the soul into the heart, there to hold communion with God, alone with Him, heart to heart.

This Blessed Francis could do in all places and at all hours without being hindered by any company or occupations. This recollection of God and of ourselves was the favourite exercise of the great St. Augustine, who so often exclaimed: "Lord, let me know Thee, and know myself!" and of the great St. Francis, who cried out: "Who art Thou, my God and my Lord? and who am I, poor dust and a worm of the earth?" This frequent looking up to God and then down upon ourselves keeps us wonderfully to our duties, and either prevents us from falling, or helps us to raise ourselves quickly from our falls, as the Psalmist says: I set the Lord always in my sight: for He is at my right hand, that I be not moved.[1]

Thou hast held me by my right hand; and by Thy will thou hast conducted me, and with Thy glory Thou hast received me.[2] He teaches us how to practise this exercise in his Philothea, where, dealing with the subject of aspirations or ejaculatory prayers, he says: "In this exercise of spiritual retreat and ejaculatory prayers lies the great work of devotion. We may make up for the deficiency of all other prayers, but failure in this can scarcely ever be repaired. Without it we cannot well lead the contemplative life, and can only lead the active life very imperfectly; without it repose is idleness, and labour only vexation. This is why I conjure you to embrace it with your whole heart, and never to lay it aside."[3]

[Footnote 1: Psalm xv. 8.] [Footnote 2: Psalm lxxii. 24.] [Footnote 3: Part ii. c. xii. and xiii.]

UPON DOING AND ENDURING.

His opinion was that one ounce of suffering was worth more than a pound of action; but then it must be of suffering sent by God, and not self-chosen. Indeed, to endure pain which is of our own choosing is rather to do than to suffer, and, speaking in general, our having chosen it spoils our good work, because self-love has insinuated itself into our motives. We wish to serve God in one way, while He desires to be served in another; we wish what He wishes, but not as He wishes it. We do not submit ourselves wholly and as we should do to His will.

A person who was very devout and who was accustomed to spend much time in mental prayer, being attacked with severe headache, was forbidden by her doctor to practise this devotion, as it increased her suffering and prevented her recovery. The patient much distressed at this prohibition wrote to consult our Blessed Father on the subject, and this is his reply:

"As regards meditation," he says, "the doctors are right. While you are so weak, you must abstain from it; but to make up you must double your ejaculatory prayers, and offer them all to God as an act of acquiescence in His good pleasure, which, though preventing you from meditating, in no way separates you from Himself, but, on the contrary, enables you to unite yourself more closely to Him by the practice of calm and holy resignation. What matters it how or by what means we are united to God? Truly, since we seek Him alone, and since we find Him no less in mortification than in prayer, especially when He visits us with sickness, the one ought to be as welcome to us as the other. Moreover, ejaculatory prayers and the silent lifting of the heart to God, are really a continued meditation, and the patient endurance of pain and distress is the worthiest offering we can possibly make to Him who saved us through suffering. Read also occasionally some good book that will fill up what is wanting to you of food for the spirit."

UPON MORTIFICATION AND PRAYER.

Our Blessed Father considered that mortification without prayer is like a body without a soul; and prayer without mortification like a soul without a body. He desired that the two should never be separated, but that, like Martha and Mary, they should without disputing, nay, in perfect harmony, unite in serving our Lord. He compared them to the scales in a balance, one of which goes down when the other goes up. In order to raise the soul by prayer, we must lower the body by mortification, otherwise the flesh will weigh down the soul and hinder it from rising up to God, whose spirit will not dwell with a man sunk in gross material delights or cares.

The lily and the rose of prayer and contemplation can only grow and flourish among the thorns of mortification. We cannot reach the hill of incense, the symbol of prayer, except by the steep ascent on which we find the myrrh of mortification, needed to preserve our bodies from the corruption of sin.

Just as incense, which in Scripture represents prayer, does not give forth its perfume until it is burned, neither can prayer ascend to Heaven unless it proceeds from a mortified heart. Mortification averts temptations, and prayer becomes easy when we are sheltered under the protecting wings of mortification. When we are dead to ourselves and to our passions we begin to live to God. He begins to feed us in prayer with the bread of life and understanding, and with the manna of His inspirations. In fine, we become like that pillar of aromatic smoke to which the Bride is compared, compounded of all the spices of the perfumer.[1]

Our Blessed Father's maxim on this subject was that: "We ought to live in this world as if our soul were in heaven and our body in the tomb."

[Footnote 1: Cant. iii. 6.]

UPON THE PRESENCE OF GOD.

The practice of recollection of the presence of God was so much insisted upon by our Blessed Father that, as you know, my sisters, he recommended it to your Congregation to be the daily bread and constant nourishment of your souls.

He used to say that to be recollected in God is the occupation of the blessed; nay, more, the very essence of their blessedness. Our Lord in the Gospel says that the angels see continually, without interruption or intermission, the face of their Father in heavens and is it not life eternal to see God and to be always in His most holy presence, like the angels, who are called the supporters of His throne.

You know that whenever you are gathered together for recreation, one of you is always appointed as a sort of sentinel to watch over the proper observance of this holy practice, pronouncing from time to time, aloud, these words: "Sisters, we remind your Charities of the holy presence of God," adding, if it has been a day of general communion, "and of the holy communion of to-day."

Our Blessed Father on this subject says in his Devout Life: "Begin all your prayers, whether mental or vocal, by an act of the presence of God, Adhere strictly to this rule, the value of which you will soon realize."[1]

And again: "Most of the failures of good people in the discharge of their duty come to pass because they do not keep themselves sufficiently in the presence of God."

If you desire more instruction on the matter, read again what he has written about it in the same book.

[Footnote 1: Part ii. chap. 1.]

HIS UNITY OF SPIRIT WITH GOD.

He who is joined to the Lord is one spirit,[1] says St. Paul.

Our Blessed Father had arrived at that degree of union with God which is in some sort a unity, because the will of God in it becomes the soul of our will, that is, its life and moving principle, even as our soul is the life and the moving principle of our body. Hence his rapturous ejaculation: "Oh! how good a thing it is to live only in God, to labour only in God, to rejoice only in God!"

Again, he expresses this sentiment even more forcibly in the following words: "Henceforth, with the help of God's grace, I will no longer desire to be anything to any one, or that any one be anything to me, save in God, and for God only. I hope to attain to this when I shall have abased myself utterly before Him. Blessed be God! It seems to me that all things are indeed as nothing to me now, except in Him, for whom and in whom I love every soul more and more tenderly."

Elsewhere he says: "Ah! when will this poor human love of attentions, courtesies, responsiveness, sympathy, and favours be purified and brought into perfect accordance with the all pure love of the Divine will? When will our self-love cease to desire outward tokens of God's nearness and rest content with the changeless and abiding assurance which He gives to us of His eternity? What can sensible presence add to a love which God has made, which He supports, and which He maintains? What marks can be lacking of perseverance in a unity which God has created? Neither presence nor absence can add anything to a love formed by God Himself."

[Footnote 1: 1 Cor. vi. 17.]

HIS GRATITUDE TO GOD FOR SPIRITUAL CONSOLATIONS.

In one of his letters written to a person both virtuous and honourable, in whom he had great confidence, he says: "If you only knew how God deals with my heart, you would thank Him for His goodness to me, and entreat Him to give me the spirit of counsel and of fortitude, so that I may rightly act upon the inspirations of wisdom and understanding which He communicates to me." He often expressed the same thought to me in different words. "Ah!" he would say, "how good must not the God of Israel be to such as are upright of heart, since He is so gracious to those even who have a heart like mine, miserable, heedless of His graces, and earth-bound! Oh! how sweet is His spirit to the souls that love Him and seek Him with all their might! Truly, His name is as balm, and it is no wonder that so many ardent spirits follow Him with enthusiastic devotion, eagerly and joyously hastening to Him, led by the sweetness of His attractions. Oh! what great things we are taught by the unction of divine goodness! Being at the same time illumined by so soft and calm a light that we can scarcely tell whether the sweetness is more grateful than the light, or the light than the sweetness! Truly, the breasts of the Spouse are better than wine, and sweeter than all the perfumes of Arabia.[1]

"Sometimes I tremble for fear that God may be giving me my Paradise in this world! I do not really know what adversity is; I have never looked poverty in the face; the pains which I have experienced have been mere scratches, just grazing the skin; the calumnies spoken against me are nothing but a gust of wind, and the remembrance of them dies away with the sound of the voice which utters them. It is not only that I am free from the ills of life, I am, as it were, choked with good things, both temporal and spiritual. Yet in the midst of all I remain ungrateful and insensible to His goodness. Oh! for pity's sake, help me sometimes to thank God, and to pray Him not to let me have all my reward at once!

"He, indeed, shows that He knows my weakness and my misery by treating me thus like a child, and feeding me with sweetmeats and milk, rather than with more solid food. But oh, when will He give me the grace, after having basked in the sunshine of His favours, to sigh and groan a little under the burden of His Cross, since to reign with Him, we must suffer with Him, and to live with Him, we must die together with Him? Assuredly we must either love or die, or rather we must die that we may love Him; that is to say, die to all other love to live only for His love, and live only for Him who died that we may live eternally in the embrace of His divine goodness."

[Footnote 1: Cantic. i. 1, 2.]

UPON THE SHEDDING OF TEARS.

Although he was himself very easily moved to tears, he did not set any specially high value on what is called the gift of tears, except when it proceeds, not from nature, but directly from the Father of light, who sends His rain upon the earth from the clouds. He told me once that, just as it would be contrary to physical laws for rain, in place of falling from heaven to earth, to rise from earth to heaven; so it was against all order that sensible devotion should produce that which is supernatural. For this would be for nature to produce grace. He compared tears shed, in moments of mental excitement, by persons gifted with a strong power of imagination, to hot rains which fall during the most sultry days of summer, and which scorch rather than refresh vegetation. But when supernatural devotion, seated in the higher powers of the soul, breaking down all restraining banks, spreads itself over the whole being of man, he compared the tears it causes him to shed to a mighty, irresistible and fertilising torrent, making glad the City of God. Tears of this sort, he thought much to be desired, seeing that they give great glory to God and profit to the soul. Of those who shed such tears, he said, the Gospel Beatitude speaks when it tells us that: Blessed are they that weep.[1]

In one of his letters he writes as follows: "I say nothing, my good daughter, about your imagining yourself hard of heart, because you have no tears to shed. No, my child, your heart has nothing to do with this. Your lack of tears proceeds not from any want of affectionate resolve to love, God, but from the absence of sensible devotion, which does not depend at all upon our heart, but upon our natural temperament, which we are unable to change. For just as in this world it is impossible for us to make rain to fall when we want it, or to stop it at our own good pleasure, so also it is not in our power to weep from a feeling of devotion when we want to do so, or, on the other hand, not to weep when carried away by our emotion. Our remaining unmoved at prayer and meditation proceeds, not from any fault of ours, but from the providence of God, who wishes us to travel by land, and often by desert land, rather than by water, and who wills to accustom us to labour and hardship in our spiritual life." On this same subject I once heard him make one of his delightful remarks: "What!" he cried, "are not dry sweetmeats quite as good as sweet drinks? Indeed they have one special advantage. You can carry them about with you in your pocket, whereas the sweet drink must be disposed of on the spot. It is childish to refuse to eat your food when none other is to be had, because it is quite dry. The sea is God's, for He made it, but His hands also laid the foundations of the dry land, that is to say, of the earth. We are land animals, not fish. One goes to heaven by land as easily as by water. God does not send the deluge every day. Great floods are not less to be feared than great droughts!"

[Footnote 1: Matt. v. 5.]

UPON JOY AND SADNESS.

As the blessedness of the life to come is called joy in Scripture, Good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord, so also—it is in joy that the happiness of this present life consists. Not, however, in all kinds of joy, for the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment,[1] that is to say, lasts but for a moment.

It is said of the wicked that they spend their days in wealth, and in a moment go down to hell,[2] and that mourning taketh hold of the end of false joy.[3]

True, joy can only proceed from inward peace, and this peace from the testimony of a good conscience, which is called a continual feast.[4]

This is that joy of the Lord, and in the Lord, which the Apostle recommends so strongly, provided it be accompanied by charity and modesty.

Our Blessed Father thought so highly of this joyous peace and peaceful joy that he looked upon it as constituting the only true happiness possible in this life. Indeed he put this belief of his into such constant practice that a great servant of God, one of his most intimate friends, declared him to be the possessor of an imperturbable and unalterable peace.

On the other hand, he was as great an enemy to sadness, trouble, and undue hurry and eagerness, as he was a friend to peace and joy. Besides all that he says on the subject in his Philothea and his Theotimus, he writes thus to a soul who, under the pretext of austerity and penance, had abandoned herself to disquietude and grief: Be at peace, and nourish your heart with the sweetness of heavenly love, without which man's heart is without life, and man's life without happiness. Never give way to sadness, that enemy of devotion. What is there that should be able to sadden the servant of Him who will be our joy through all eternity? Surely sin, and sin only, should cast us down and grieve us. If we have sinned, when once our act of sorrow at having sinned has been made, there ought to follow in its train joy and holy consolation.

[Footnote 1: Job xx. 5.] [Footnote 2: Job xxi. 13.] [Footnote 3: Prov. xiv. 13.] [Footnote 4: Ibid. xv. 15.]

UPON THE DEGREES OF TRUE DEVOTION.

Loving devotion, or devout love, has three degrees, which are: 1. When we perform those exercises which relate to the service of God, but with some sluggishness. 2. When we betake ourselves to them with readiness. 3. When we run and even fly to execute them with joy and with eagerness.

Our Blessed Father illustrates this by two very apt comparisons.

"Ostriches never fly, barn door fowls fly heavily, close to the ground, and but seldom; eagles, doves, and swallows fly often, swiftly and high. Thus sinners never fly to God, but keep to the ground, nor so much as look up to Him.

"Those who are in God's grace but have not yet attained to devotion, fly to God by their good actions rarely, slowly, and very heavily; but devout souls fly to God frequently and promptly and soar high above the earth."[1] His second comparison is this:

"Just as a man when convalescent from an illness walks as much as is necessary, but slowly and wearily, so the sinner being healed from his iniquity walks as much as God commands him to do, but still only slowly and heavily, until he attains to devotion. Then, like a man in robust health, he runs and bounds along the way of God's commandments; and, more than that, he passes swiftly into the paths of the counsels and of heavenly inspirations. In fact, charity and supernatural devotion are not more different from one another than flame from fire, seeing that charity is a spiritual fire, and when its flame burns fiercely is called devotion. Thus devotion adds nothing to the fire of charity except the flame, which renders charity prompt, active, and diligent, not only in observing the commandments of God, but also in the practice of the counsels and heavenly inspirations."

[Footnote 1: The Devout Life. Part i. c. i.]

THE TEST OF TRUE DEVOTION.

It was his opinion that the touchstone of true devotion is the regulation of exercises of piety according to one's state of life. He often compared devotion to a liquid which takes the form of the vessel into which it is put. Here are his words to Philothea on the subject [1]: "Devotion," he says, "must be differently practised by a gentleman, by an artisan, by a servant, by a prince, by a widow, by a maiden, by a wife, and not only must the practice of devotion be different, but it must in measure and in degree be accommodated to the strength, occupations, and duties of each individual. I ask you, Philothea, would it be proper for a Bishop to wish to lead the solitary life of a Carthusian monk? If a father of a family were as heedless of heaping up riches as a Capuchin; if an artisan spent the whole day in church like a monk; if a monk, like a Bishop, were constantly in contact with the world in the service of his neighbour, would not the devotion of each of these be misplaced, ill-regulated, and laughable? Yet this mistake is very often made, and the world, which cannot or will not distinguish between devotion and indiscretion in those who think themselves devout, murmurs against and blames piety in general, though in reality piety has nothing to do with mistakes such as these."

He goes on to say: "When creating them, God commanded the plants to bring forth their fruits, each according to its kind; so He commands christians, who are the living plants of His Church, to produce fruits of devotion, each according to his state of life and calling."

At the close of the same chapter, our Blessed Father says: "Devotion or piety, when it is real, spoils nothing, but on the contrary perfects everything. Whenever it clashes with the legitimate calling of those who profess it, you may be quite certain that such devotion is spurious. 'The bee,' says Aristotle, 'draws her honey from a flower, without injuring that flower in the least, and leaves it fresh and intact as she found it.'"

[Footnote 1: The Devout Life. Part i. c, 3.]

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A SERVANT OF GOD.

Some think that they are not making any progress in the service of God unless they feel sensible devotion and interior joy continually, forgetting that the road to heaven is not carpeted with rose leaves but rather bristling with thorns. Does not the divine oracle tell us that through much tribulation we must enter the Kingdom of Heaven? And that it is only taken by those who do violence to themselves? Our Blessed Father writes thus to a soul that was making the above mistake:

"Live wholly for God, and for the sake of the love which He has borne to you, do you bear with yourself in all your miseries. In fact, the being a good servant of God does not mean the being always spiritually consoled, the always feeling sweet and calm, the never feeling aversion or repugnance to what is good. If this were so, neither St. Paul, nor St. Angela, nor St. Catherine of Siena, could have served God well. To be a servant of God is to be charitable towards our neighbour, to have, in the superior part of our soul, an unswerving resolution to follow the will of God, joined to the deepest humility and a simple confidence in Him; however many times we fall, always to rise up again; in fine, to be patient with ourselves in our miseries, and with others in their imperfections."

Another error into which good people fall is that of always wanting to find out whether or not they are in a state of grace. If you tranquillize them on this point, then they begin to torment themselves as to the exact amount of progress they have made, and are actually making, in this happy state of grace, as though their progress were in any way their own work. They quite forget that though one may plant and another water, it is God who gives the increase.

In order to cure this spiritual malady, which borders very closely upon presumption, he gives in another of his letters the following wise counsel:

"Remember that all that is past is nothing, and that every day we should say with David: Now only am I beginning to love my God truly. Do much for God, and do nothing without love, let this be your aim, eat and drink for this."

THAT DEVOTION DOES NOT ALWAYS SPRING FROM CHARITY.

"Do not deceive yourself," he once said to me, "people may be very devout, and at the same time very wicked." "But," I said, "they are then surely not devout, but hypocrites!" "No, no," he answered, "I am speaking of true devotion." As I was quite unable to solve this riddle, I begged him to explain it to me, which he did most kindly, and, if I can trust my memory, more or less as follows:

"Devotion is of itself and of its own nature a moral and acquired virtue, not one that is supernatural and infused, otherwise it would be a theological virtue, which it is not. It is then a virtue, subordinate to that which is called Religion, and according to some is only one of its acts;[1] as religion again is subordinate to one of the four cardinal virtues, namely justice. Now you know that all the moral virtues, and even the theological ones of faith and hope, are compatible with mortal sin, although become, as it were, shapeless and dead, being without charity, which is their form, their soul, their very life. For, if one can have faith so great as to be able to move mountains, without charity, and yet, precisely because charity is absent, be utterly worthless and wicked; if it is possible to be a true prophet and yet a bad man, as were Saul, Balaam, and Caiphas; to work miracles as Judas is believed to have done, and yet to be sinful as he was; if we can give all our goods to the poor, and suffer martyrdom by fire, without having charity, much more may we be devout without being charitable, since devotion is a virtue less estimable in its nature than those which we have mentioned. You must not then think it strange when I tell you that it is possible to be devout and yet wicked, since we may have faith, mercy, patience, and constancy to the extent of which I have spoken, and yet, with all that be stained with many deadly vices, such as pride, envy, hatred, intemperance, and the like."

"What then," I asked, "is a truly devout man?" He answered: "I tell you again that, though in sin, one may be truly devout. But such devotion, though a virtue, is dead, not living," I rejoined: "But how can this dead devotion be real?" "In the same way," he replied, "as a dead body is a real body, soulless though it be." I rejoined: "But a dead body is not really a man." He answered: "It is not a true man, whole and perfect, but it is the true body of a man, and the body of a true man though dead. Thus, devotion without charity is true, though dead and imperfect. It is true devotion dead and shapeless, but not true devotion living and fully formed. It is only necessary to draw a distinction between the words, true, and complete or perfect, which is done so clearly by St. Thomas,[2] in order to find the solution of your difficulty. He who possesses devotion without charity has true, but not perfect or complete devotion; in him who has charity, devotion is not only true but perfect. By charity he becomes good, and by devotion devout; losing charity he loses supernatural goodness and becomes sinful or bad, but does not necessarily cease to be devout. This is why I told you that one could be devout and yet wicked. So also by mortal sin we do not necessarily lose faith or hope, except we deliberately make an act of unbelief or of despair."

He had expressed a somewhat similar idea in the first chapter of his Philothea, though I had not then noticed it. These are his words:

"Devotion is nothing more than a spiritual agility and vivacity, helped by which charity acts more readily; or better, helped by which we more readily elicit acts of charity. It belongs to charity to make us keep God's commandments, but it belongs to devotion to make us keep them promptly and diligently. This is why he who does not observe all the commandments of God cannot be considered either good or supernaturally devout, since in order to be good we must have charity, and to be devout we must have besides charity great alertness and promptitude in doing charitable actions."[3]

In another of his books, speaking to Theotimus, he says:

"All true lovers of God are equal in this, that all give their heart to God, and with all their strength; but they are unequal in this, that they give it diversely and in different manners, whence some give all their heart, with all their strength, but less perfectly than others. This one gives it all by martyrdom; this, all by virginity; this, all by the pastoral office; and whilst all give it all by the observance of the commandments, yet some give it with less perfection than others."[4]

We must remember that true devotion cannot be restricted to the practice of one virtue only; we must employ all our powers in the worship and service of God. One of the chief maxims of Blessed Francis was that the sort of devotion which is not only not a hindrance but actually a help to us in our legitimate calling is the only true one for us, and that any other is false for us. He illustrates this teaching to Philothea by saying that devotion is like a liquid which takes the shape of the vessel into which it is put. He even went further, boldly declaring that it was not simply an error but a heresy to exclude devotion from any calling whatever, provided it be a just and legitimate one. This shows the mistake of those who imagine that we cannot save our souls in the world, as if salvation were only for the Pharisee, and not for the Publican, nor for the house of Zaccheus. This error which approaches very nearly to that of Pelagius, makes salvation to be dependent on certain callings, as though the saving of our souls were the work of nature rather than of grace. Our Blessed Father supports his teaching in this matter by many examples, proving that in every condition of life we may be holy and may consequently save our souls, and arrive at a very high degree of glory.

He concludes by saying: "Some even have been known to lose perfection in solitude, which is often so helpful for its attainment, and to have regained it in a busy city life which seems to be so unfavourable to it. Wherever we are, we can and ought to aspire to the perfect life."

[Footnote 1: S. Thomas 2a, 2ae, Quaest, lxxxi., art. 2.] [Footnote 2: 2a, 2ae, Quaest, lxxxii. to lxxxviii.] [Footnote 3: The Devout Life, Part i., chap. 1.] [Footnote 4: Book x., chap. 3.]

UPON PERFECT CONTENTMENT IN THE PRIVATION OF ALL CONTENT.

It is true that the devout life, which is nothing but an intense and fervent love of God, is an angelic life and full of contentment and of extraordinary consolation. It is, however, also true that those who submit themselves to the discipline of God, even while experiencing the sweetness of this divine love, must prepare their soul for temptation. The path which leads to the Land of Promise is beset with difficulties—dryness, sadness, desolation, and faint-hearted fears—and would end in bewildering discouragement, did not Faith and Hope, like Joshua and Caleb, show us the fair fruits of this much to be desired country, and thus animate us to perseverance.

But He who brings light out of darkness, and roses out of thorns, who helps us in all our tribulations, and performs wonders in heaven and earth, makes the happy souls whom He leads through His will to His glory to find perfect content in the loss of all content, both corporal and spiritual when once they recognize that it is the will of God that they should go to Him by the way of darkness, perplexity, crosses, and anguish.

In saying this I am putting into my own words the thoughts of our Blessed Father as expressed in the eleventh chapter of the sixth book of his Treatise on the Love of God.

UPON THE WILL OF GOD.

Meditating this morning on that passage of Holy Scripture which tells us that the life of man is in the good will of God,[1] I reflected that to live according to the will of the flesh, that is, according to the human will, is not really life, since the prudence of the flesh is death; but that to live according to the will of God is the true life of the soul, since the grace attached to that divine will imparts a life to our soul far higher than the life our soul imparts to our body.

The divine will is our sanctification, and this sanctification is the gate of eternal life; of that true life in comparison with which the life which we lead on earth is more truly a death. To live in God, in whom is true life, is to live according to His will.

Our life, then, is to do His will. This made St. Paul say that he lived, yet not he himself, but that Jesus Christ lived in him,[2] because he had only one will and one mind with Jesus Christ, I was rejoiced to find that unconsciously my thoughts on this subject had followed closely in the track of our Blessed Father's when he meditated on the same passage. This I discovered on reading these words in one of his letters:

"This morning, being alone for a few moments, I made an act of extraordinary resignation which I cannot put on paper, but reserve until God permits me to see you, when you shall know it by word of mouth. Oh! how blessed are the souls who live on the will of God alone. Ah! if even to taste a little of that blessedness in a passing meditation is so sweet to the heart which accepts that holy will with all the crosses it offers, what must the happiness be of a soul all steeped in that will? Oh! my God, what a blessed thing is it not to bring all our affections into a humble and absolute subjection to the divine love! This we have said, this we have resolved to do, and our hearts have taken the greatest glory of the love of God for their sovereign law. Now the glory of this holy love consists in its power of burning and consuming all that is not itself, that all may be resolved and changed into it. God exalts Himself upon our annihilation of ourselves and reigns upon the throne of our voluntary servitude."

[Footnote 1: Psalm xxix. 6.] [Footnote 2: Gal. ii. 20.]

HIS RESIGNATION TO THE WILL OF GOD.

It happened that Blessed Francis fell ill at the very time when his predecessor in the Bishopric of Geneva was imploring the Holy See to appoint him as his coadjutor.

The illness was so serious that the physicians despaired of his life, and this our Blessed Father was told. He received the announcement quite calmly, and even joyfully, as though he saw the heavens open and ready to receive him, and being entirely resigned to the will of God both in life and in death, said only:

"I belong, to God, let Him do with me according to His good pleasure."

When someone in his presence said that he ought to wish to live if not for the service of God at least that he might do penance for his sins, he answered thus: "It is certain that sooner or later we must die, and whenever it may be, we shall always have need of the great mercy of God: we may as well fall into His pitiful hands to-day as to-morrow. He is at all times the same, full of kindness, and rich in mercy to all those who call upon Him: and we are always evil, conceived in iniquity, and subject to sin even from our mother's womb. He who finishes his course earlier than others has less of an account to render. I can see that there is a design afoot to lay upon me a burden not less formidable to me than death itself. Between the two I should find it hard to choose. It is far better to submit myself to the care of Providence: far better to sleep upon the breast of Jesus Christ than anywhere else. God loves us. He knows better than we do what is good for us. Whether we live, or whether we die, we are the Lord's.[1] He has the keys of life, and of death.[2] They who hope in Him are never confounded.[3] Let us also go, and die with Him." And when someone said it was a pity he should die in the flower of his age (he was only thirty-five), he answered: "Our Lord was still younger when He died. The number of our days is before Him, He can gather the fruits which belong to Him at any season. Do not let us waste our time and thoughts over circumstances; let us consider only His most holy will. Let that be our guiding star; it will lead us to Jesus Christ whether in the cribs or on Calvary. Whoever follows Him shall not walk in darkness but shall have the light of eternal life, and shall be no more subject to death."

These were the words, this was the perfect resignation, of our Blessed Father. Who can say we have not here the cause of the prolongation of his days, even as a like resignation led to the prolonging of those of King Ezechias.

[Footnote 1: Rom. xiv. 8] [Footnote 2: Apoc. i. 18.] [Footnote 3: Psalm xxiv. 3.]

THAT WE MUST ALWAYS SUBMIT OURSELVES TO GOD'S HOLY WILL.

In 1619, when our Saint was in Paris with the Prince of Savoy, a gentleman of the court fell dangerously ill. He sent for Blessed Francis, who, when visiting him, remarked with some surprise that, although he bore his physical sufferings with great patience, he fretted grievously about other troubles seemingly of very small moment. He was distressed at the thought of dying away from home, at being unable to give his family his last blessing, at not having his accustomed physician by his side, etc. Then he would begin to worry about the details of his funeral, the inscription on his tombstone, and so on. Nothing was right in his surroundings; the sky of Paris, his doctors and nurses, his servants, his bed, his rooms, all were matters of complaint. "Strange inconsistency!" exclaimed the holy Bishop. "Here is a brave soldier and a great statesman, fretted by the merest trifles, and unhappy because he cannot die in exactly the circumstances which he would have chosen for himself." I am glad to be able to add that in spite of all this the poor man made a holy and a happy end.

But Blessed Francis afterwards said to me: "It is not enough to will what God wills, we must also desire that all should be exactly, even in the minutest detail and particular, as God wills it to be. For instance, in regard to sickness we should be willing to be sick because it pleases God that we should be so; and sick of that very sickness which God sends us, not of one of a different character; and sick at such time, and in such place, and surrounded by such attendants, as it may please God to appoint. In short, we must in all things take for our law the most holy will of God."

HIS SUBLIME THOUGHTS ON HOLY INDIFFERENCE.

Many of the saints, and especially St. Catherine of Siena, St. Philip Neri, and St. Ignatius Loyola, have spoken in the most beautiful and elevated language of that holy indifference which, springing from the love of God, makes life or death and all the circumstances of the one or the other equally acceptable to the soul which realizes that all is ordered by the will of God.

Let us hear what our Blessed Father says on this subject in his Treatise on the Love of God.

"God's will is the sovereign object of the indifferent soul; wheresoever she sees it she runs after the odour of its perfumes, directing her course ever thither where it most appears, without considering anything else. She is conducted by the divine will, as by a beloved chain; which way soever it goes she follows it: she would prize hell with God's will more than heaven without it; nay, she would even prefer hell before heaven if she perceived only a little more of God's good-pleasure in that than in this, so that if—to suppose what is impossible—she should know that her damnation would be more agreeable to God than her salvation, she would quit her salvation and run to her damnation."[1]

This is, indeed, a bold and daring proposition, but to convince you how tenaciously he clung to it I would remind you of his words in the Conferences;[2] on the same subject: "The saints who are in heaven are so closely united to the will of God that if there were even a little more of His good-pleasure in hell than in paradise they would quit paradise to go there." And again in the same Conference: "Whether the malady conquers the remedies or the remedies get the better of the malady should be a matter of perfect indifference. So much so that if sickness and health were put before us and our Lord were to say to us: 'If thou choose health I will not deprive thee of a single particle of my grace, if thou choose sickness I shall not in any degree increase that grace, but in the choice of sickness there is a little more of my good-pleasure,' the soul which has wholly forsaken herself and abandoned herself into the hands of our Lord will undoubtedly choose sickness solely because it is more pleasing to God. Nay, though this might mean a whole lifetime spent on her couch in constant suffering, she would not for any earthly consideration desire to be in any other condition than this."

[Footnote 1: Bk. ix., c. 5.] [Footnote 2: Conf. ii.]

NOTHING, SAVE SIN, HAPPENS TO US BUT BY THE WILL OF GOD.

"Nothing happens to us," Blessed Francis was accustomed to say, "whether of good or of evil, sin alone excepted, but by the will of God." Good, because God is the source of all good. Every best gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.[1] Evil, for, Shall there be evil in the city which the Lord hath not done?[2] The evil here spoken of is that of pain or trouble, seeing that God cannot will the evil of crime, which is sin, though he permits it, allowing the human will to act according to the natural liberty which He has given to it. Properly speaking, sin cannot be said to happen to us, because what happens to us must come from without, and sin, on the contrary, comes from within, proceeding from our hearts, as holy Scripture expressly states, telling us also that iniquity comes from our fatness,[3] that is to say, from our ease and luxury.

Oh, what a happiness it would be for our souls if we accustomed ourselves to receive all things from the fatherly hand of Him who, in opening it, fills all things living with blessing! What unction should we not draw from this in our adversities! What honey from the rock, what oil from the stones! And with how much moderation should we not behave in prosperity, since God sends us both the one and the other, that we may use both to the praise and glory of His grace.

[Footnote I: St. James i. 17.] [Footnote II: Amos iii. 6.] [Footnote III: Psalm lxxii. 7.]

UPON THE SAME SUBJECT.

I must confess to you, my sisters, that I was astonished to read in one of our Saint's letters that our Lord Jesus Christ did not possess the quality of indifference in the sensitive part of His nature.

I will give the exact words in which this wonderful fact is stated. "This virtue of indifference," he says, "is so excellent that our old Adam, and the sensitive part of our human nature, so far as its natural powers go, is not capable of it, no, not even in our Lord, who, as a child of Adam, although exempt from all sin, and from everything pertaining to sin, yet in the sensitive part of his nature and as regards his human faculties was in no way indifferent, but desired not to die upon the Cross. Indifference, and the exercise of it, is entirely reserved for the spirit, for the supreme portion of our nature, for faculties set on fire by grace, and in fine for Himself personally, inasmuch as He is divine and human, the New Man. How, then, can we complain when as far as this lower portion of our nature is concerned we find ourselves unable to be indifferent to life, and to death, to health, and to sickness, to honour and to ignominy, to pleasure and to pain, to comfort and to discomfort, when, in a word, we feel in ourselves that conflict going on which the vessel of election experienced in such a manner as to make him exclaim: Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"[1]

The love of ourselves is so deeply rooted in our nature that it is impossible wholly to rid ourselves of it. Even grace does not do away with our self-love, but only reduces it to the service of divine charity.

By the love of self I mean a natural, just, and legitimate love, so legitimate indeed as to be commanded by the law of God which bids us love our neighbour as ourselves; that is to say, according to God's will, which is not only the one way in which we can rightly love our neighbour, but also the one way in which we are commanded to love ourselves.

Nevertheless, this love of ourselves, however just and reasonable it may be, turns only too easily, and too imperceptibly, into a self-love, which is unlawful and forbidden, but into which even persons the most earnest and the most spiritual are at times surprised.

We often think we love someone, or something in God, and for God, when it is really only in ourselves, and for ourselves, that we do so. We think sometimes that we have only an eye to the interests of God, which is His glory, when it is really our own glory which we are seeking in our work. This is when we stop short voluntarily at the creature to the prejudice of the Creator; as comes to pass in all sin, whether mortal or venial. We must therefore watch and be constantly on our guard lest we fall into this snare. From it we must snatch our soul as we would a bird from the snare of the fowler. We shall be safe if we remember that every just and lawful love in us is always either in actual touch with the love of God, or can be brought into such touch, whilst self-love is never in such touch, nor can ever be brought into it.

This is the test by which we can detect the false coin that is mixed up with the true.

[Footnote 1: Rom. vii. 24.]

UPON ABANDONING OURSELVES TO GOD.

I cannot tell you, my sisters, how great a point our Blessed Father made of self-abandonment, i.e., self-surrender into the hands of God. In one place he speaks of it as: "The cream of charity, the odour of humility, the flower of patience, and the fruit of perseverance. Great," he says, "is this virtue, and worthy of being practised by the best beloved children of God."[1] And again, "Our Lord loves with a most tender love those who are so happy as to abandon themselves wholly to His fatherly care, letting themselves be governed by His divine Providence without any idle speculations as to whether the workings of this Providence will be useful to them to their profit, or painful to their loss, and this because they are well assured that nothing can be sent, nothing permitted by this paternal and most loving Heart, which will not be a source of good and profit to them. All that is required is that they should place all their confidence in Him, and say from their heart, Into Thy hands I commend my spirit, my soul, my body, and all that I have, to do with them as it shall please Thee."[2]

You are inclined, my sisters, to say that we are not all of us capable of such entire self-renunciation, that so supreme an act of self-abandonment is beyond our strength. Hear then, too, what our Blessed Father goes on to say. These are his words in the same Conference: "Never are we reduced to such an extremity that we cannot pour forth before the divine majesty the perfume of a holy submission to His most holy will, and of a continual promise never wilfully to offend Him."

[Footnotes 1, 2: Conf. 2.]

UPON INTERIOR DESOLATION.

As there are, more thorns than roses in our earthly life, and more dull days than sunny ones, so also in our spiritual life our souls are more frequently clouded by a sense of desolation, dryness, and gloom, than irradiated by heavenly consolations and brightness.

Yet our Blessed Father says that "those are mistaken who think that, even in Christians, whose conscience does not accuse them of sins unconfessed, but on the contrary bears good witness for them, a heavy heart and sorrow-laden mind is a proof of God's displeasure.

"Has God not said that He is with us in tribulation, and is not His Cross the mark of the chosen? At the birth of Jesus, while the shepherds were surrounded by the light which shone from heaven and their ears filled with the songs of angels, Mary and Joseph were in the stable in the darkness of night, the silence only broken by the weeping of the Holy Child. Yet who would not rather be with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in that shadowy gloom than with the shepherds even in their ecstasy of heavenly joy? St. Peter, indeed, amid the glories of Thabor said: It is good to be here, let us make here three tabernacles.[1] But Holy Scripture adds: Not knowing what he said.

"The faithful soul loves Jesus covered with wounds and disfigurements on Calvary, amid the darkness, the blood, the crosses, the nails, the thorns, and the horror of death: loves Him, I say, as dearly, as fervently as in His triumph, and cries out from a full heart amid all this desolation:

"Let us make here three tabernacles, one for Jesus, one for His holy Mother, and one for His beloved disciple."

[Footnote 1: Luke ix, 33.]

UPON THE PRESENCE IN OUR SOULS OF THE GRACE OF GOD.

There is, I think, no greater temptation than one which assails many good people, namely, the desire to know for certain whether or not they are in a state of grace.

To a poor soul entangled in a perfect spider's web of doubt and mistrust, our Blessed Father wrote the following consoling words: "To try and discover whether or not your heart is pleasing to God is a thing you must not do, though you may undoubtedly try to make sure that His Heart is pleasing to you. Now, if you meditate upon His Heart it will be impossible but that it should be well pleasing to you, so sweet is it, so gentle, so condescending, so loving towards those of His poor creatures who do but acknowledge their wretchedness: so gracious to the unhappy, so good to the penitent. Ah! who would not love this royal Heart, which to us is as the heart both of a father and of a mother?"

As regards interior desolation there are some souls who seem to think that no devotion is worthy of the name which is not sensible and full of emotion.

To one who complained to our Blessed Father of having lost all relish for exercises of piety, he wrote in the following words: "The love of God consists neither in consolations nor in tenderness—otherwise our Lord would not have loved His father when He was sorrowful unto death, nor when He cried out, My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?[1] That is to say, then, when He performed the greatest act of love that it is possible to imagine.

"The truth is, we are always hungering after consolation, for a little sugar to be added to our spiritual food; in other words, we always want to experience our feelings of love and tenderness, and thereby to be cheered and comforted."

[Footnote 1: Matt. xxvii. 46.]

UPON OUR DESIRE TO SAVE OUR SOUL.

Faith teaches us, by means of the Holy Scriptures, that God ardently desires that we should be saved,[1] and that none should perish. His will is our sanctification, that is to say, He wishes us to be holy. Moreover, to prove that His desire is neither barren nor unhelpful, He gives us in His holy Church all the graces necessary for our salvation, so that if we are lost it will only be because of our own wilful malice.

Unfortunately, however, though it may be that all desire to save their souls, all are not willing to accept the means offered them for so doing. Hence the disorders which we see in the world around us and the truth, that, while many are called few are chosen. On this subject our Blessed Father speaks as follows in his Theotimus:

"We are," he says, "to will our salvation in such sort as God wills it; now He wills it by way of desire, and we also must incessantly desire it, in conformity with His desire. Nor does He will it only, but, in effect, gives us all necessary means to attain to it. We then, in fulfilment of the desire we have to be saved, must not only wish to be saved, but, in effect, must accept all the graces which He has provided for us, and offers us. With regard to salvation itself, it is enough to say: I desire to be saved. But, with regard to the means of salvation, it is not enough to say: I desire them. We must, with an absolute resolution, will and embrace the graces which God presents to us; for our will must correspond with God's will. And, inasmuch as He gives us the means of salvation, we ought to avail ourselves of such means, just as we ought to desire salvation in such sort as God desires it for us, and because He desires it."[2]

[Footnote 1: 1 Tim. ii. 4.] [Footnote 2: The Love of God. Bk. viii. 4.]

UPON GOOD NATURAL INCLINATIONS.

Blessed Francis always impressed upon us the necessity of making use for the glory of God of any good inclinations natural to us. "If you possess such," he would say, "remember that they are gifts, of which you will have to render an account. Take care, then, to employ them in the service of Him who gave them to you. Engraft upon this wild stock the shoots of eternal love which God is ready to bestow upon you, if, by an act of perfect self-renunciation, you prepare yourself to receive them."

There are people who are naturally inclined to certain moral virtues, such as silence, sobriety, modesty, chastity, humility, patience, and the like, and who, however little they may cultivate these virtues, make great progress in them. This was the case with many of the great pagan philosophers as we know, and it is quite true, that with all of us, the bent and inclination of the mind towards the acquisition of any kind of excellence, whether moral or physical, is an immense assistance. Still, we must bear in mind the fact that the acquiring of every moral virtue and every physical power, nay, of the whole world itself, is nothing, if, in gaining them, we should lose our own soul. St. Paul tells us this,[1] and for the same reason, our Blessed Father warns us not to keep our talents wrapped up in a napkin, not to hide their light under the bushel of nature, but to trade with them according to the intention of Him who is their author and distributor. He reminds us that this divine Giver who bestowed them on us in order thereby to increase His exterior glory, promises us a reward if we use them as He means us to do, and threatens us with punishment if we are careless in the matter.

You ask me how we are to deal with these inclinations and manage these talents or virtues? Well, you have the answer to that question in the words of our Blessed Father which I quoted: "Engraft on the wild stock of natural inclination shoots of divine charity."

[Footnote 1: 1 Cor. xiii. 1, 3.]

HOW TO SPEAK OF GOD.

St. Francis loved those words of St. Peter: If any man speak, let him speak as the words of God. If any man minister, let him do it as of the power which God administreth,[1] and of St. Paul: All things whatsoever you do, whether in word or in work, do them in the name (that is to say, to the honour and glory) of our Lord Jesus Christ.[2]

That we may carry out this excellent precept in our actions, our Blessed Father gives us some remarkable teaching. In one of his letters he says: "We must never speak of God or of things relating to His worship, that is, of religion, carelessly, and in the way of ordinary conversation, but always with great respect, esteem, and devotion."

This advice applies to those who speak of God, and of religious matters as they would of any ordinary topics of conversation, without taking into account the circumstances of time, place, or persons. St. Jerome complained of this abuse, saying that whilst there are masters and experts in every art and science, only on matters of theology and Holy Scripture, the foundations of all arts and sciences, can few be found to speak well. Yet questions relating to them are discussed most flippantly at table, and in public places; the hare-brained youth, the uneducated labourer, and the dotard, give their opinions freely on the highest mysteries of the Faith.

Again, Blessed Francis says: "Always speak of God as of God, that is to say, reverently and devoutly, not in a self-sufficient, preaching spirit, but with gentleness, charity, and humility."[3]

In the same book he gives his advice to Philothea in the following words: "Never, then, speak of God or of religion for form's sake, or to make conversation, but always with attention and devotion. I tell you this, that you may not be guilty of an extraordinary sort of vanity, which is observable in many who profess to be devout. These people, on all possible occasions, throw in expressions of piety and fervour without the least thought of what they are saying, and, having uttered these phrases, imagine that they themselves are such, as their words would indicate, which is not at all the case."

[Footnote 1: 1 St. Peter iv. 11.] [Footnote 2: Col. iii 17.] [Footnote 3: Part iii., chap. 26.]

UPON ECCENTRICITIES IN DEVOTION.

Blessed Francis had a great dislike of any kind of affectation or singularity practised by devout persons, whether in Religious houses or in the world. He went so far as to say that it rendered their piety not merely offensive, but ridiculous.

He wished every one to conform as far as possible to the way of life proper to his or her calling, without affecting any peculiarity. He gave as his authority for this desire the example of our Lord, who, in the days of His flesh, condescended to make Himself like to His brethren in all things excepting sin.

The holy Bishop inculcated this lesson upon his penitents, not only by word, but much more by his example. Never during the whole fourteen years which, happily for me, I spent under his direction studying most closely all his actions, his very gestures, his words, and his teaching; never, I say, did I observe in him the faintest shadow of singularity.

I must confess to having, in order to find out exactly what he was, practised a ruse, which some might think inexcusable or impertinent. Every year he paid me a week's visit, and before he came I took care to have some holes pierced in the doors or boarding of his rooms, that I might closely observe his behaviour when quite alone. Well, I can truly say that whatever he did, whether he prayed, read, meditated, or wrote, in his lying down and in his rising up, at all times and in all circumstances, he was the same—calm, unaffected, simple—his outward demeanour corresponding with the interior beauty of his soul. Francis quite alone was the very same as Francis in company. I think, myself, that this was the result of his continual attention to the presence of God, a practice which he recommended so strongly to all who were under his direction.

When he prayed, it was as though he saw the angels and the saints gathered round him. He remained for hours calm, motionless as a statue, and changeless in expression.

Never, even when alone, did he for the sake of greater comfort sit or stand or assume attitudes other than those he permitted himself when in public. He never so much as crossed his legs, or rested his head on his hand. The unvarying but easy gravity of his demeanour naturally inspired an unfailing love and respect.

He said that our exterior deportment should be like water which, the better it is, the more is it tasteless.

I was much pleased on hearing a very famous and devout person,[1] whom I met in Paris, say this to me about our Saint. That nothing brought so vividly to his mind what the conversation of our Lord Jesus Christ must have been among men, as the presence and angelic deportment of the holy Bishop, of whom one might truly say that he was not only clothed with, but absolutely full of, Jesus Christ. Nor will this appear strange to us if we remember that the just soul, that is to say, the soul which is in a state of grace, is said to be conformed to the image of the Son of God, and is called a participator of the divine nature.

[Footnote 1: St. Vincent de Paul.]

UPON CONFRATERNITIES.

He advised devout people to give in their names boldly, and without much consultation, to the confraternities which they happened to meet with, so as to become by this means participators of grace with all those who fear God and live according to His law. He pitied the scruples of those good souls who fear to enrol themselves, lest, as they ignorantly imagine, they should sin by not fulfilling certain duties laid down in the rules given for the guidance and discipline of these confraternities, but which are rather recommended than commanded.

"For," he said, "if the rules of Religious Orders are not in themselves binding under pain of either mortal or venial sin, how much less so are the statutes of confraternities?

"The following out of the recommendations given to their members to do certain things, to recite certain prayers, to take part in certain meetings or processions, is a matter of counsel, and not of precept. To those who perform such pious actions, Indulgences are granted, which those who do not practise them fail to gain; but such failure, even if wilful, is not a sin. There is much to gain, and nothing to lose."

On this subject he speaks thus to Philothea:

"Enter readily into the confraternities of the place in which you are living, and specially into those whose exercises are the most fruitful and edifying. In doing this, you will be practising a kind of obedience which is very pleasing to God, and the more so because although the joining confraternities is not commanded, yet it is recommended by the Church, who, to show that she desires Catholics to enrol themselves therein, grants Indulgences and other privileges to their members. Then, too, it is always a charitable thing to concur and co-operate with others in their good works. And although it may be that we should make quite as good exercises by ourselves as we do in common with our fellow-members, yet we promote the glory of God better by uniting ourselves with our brethren and neighbours, and sharing our good deeds with them."[1]

[Footnote 1: Part ii., chap. 15.]

UPON INTERCOURSE WITH THE WORLD.

There are some good people whose zeal not being sufficiently tempered with knowledge, as soon as they desire to give themselves up to a devout life, fly from society and from intercourse with others as owls shun the company of birds that fly by day. Their morose and unsociable conduct causes a dislike to be taken to devotion instead of rendering it sweet and attractive to all. Our Blessed Father was altogether opposed to such moroseness, wishing His devout children to be by their example a light to the world, and the salt of the earth, so as to impart a flavour to piety which might tempt the appetite of those who would otherwise surely turn from it with disgust. To a good soul who asked him whether Christians who wished to live with some sort of perfection should see company and mix in society, he answers thus: "Perfection, my dear lady, does not lie in avoiding our fellow-men, but it does lie in not over-relishing social pleasures and in not taking undue delight in them. There is danger for us in all that we see in a sinful world, for we run the risk of fixing our affections upon things worldly; at the same time to those who are steadfast and resolute, the mere sight of the things of this world will do no harm. In a word, the perfection of charity is the perfection of life, for the life of our soul is charity. The early Christians, who were in the world in their body though not in their heart, undoubtedly were very perfect."[1]

As regards the world's opinion of us, and the estimation in which we are held by others, it is not well to be too sensitive. At the same time, to be altogether indifferent about our reputation is blameworthy. Our Blessed Prelate teaches his Philothea exactly what we have to do:

"If," he says, "the world despises us, let us rejoice, for it is right—we see for ourselves that we are very contemptible. If it esteems us, let us despise its esteem and its judgment, for it is blind. Trouble yourself very little about what the world thinks; do not ask or even care to know. Despise equally its appreciation and its contempt, and let it say what it will, good or evil. I do not approve of doing what is not right, that people may have a bad opinion of us. Transgressing is always transgressing, and we are thereby making our neighbour transgress likewise. On the contrary, I desire that, keeping our eyes always fixed upon our Lord, we do what we have to do without regarding what the world thinks of us, or its behaviour towards us. We need not endeavour to give others a good opinion of ourselves, yet neither have we to try to give a bad one, and especially must we be careful not to do wrong with this intent.

"But we can never stand quite well with the world; it is far too exacting. If out of compliance we yield to it, and play and dance with it, it will be scandalized; and if we do not, it will accuse us of hypocrisy and gloom; if we are well-dressed it will impute to us some bad motive; and if we are ill-dressed it will call us mean; it will style our gaiety dissoluteness and our mortification gloom. It will exaggerate our failings and publish our faults; and if it cannot find fault with our actions it will attack our motives. Whatever we do the world will find fault. If we spend a long time at confession it will ask what we can have to say; if we take but a short time, it will say that we do not tell everything. If one little cross word escape us it will pronounce our temper unbearable; it will denounce our prudence as avarice, our gentleness as folly. Spiders invariably spoil the bees' labour. Therefore, do not mind what opinion the world has of you, good or bad; do not distress yourself about it, whichever it be. To say that we are not what the world thinks, when it speaks well of us, is wise, for the world, like a quack doctor, always exaggerates."

You question me, regarding the contempt which we should feel for the world and the world's opinion of us; in other words you want to know exactly what St. Paul means when he says that, being crucified to the world and the world to us, we should glory only in the Cross of our Saviour Jesus Christ.[2]

This seems to you a paradox; light evolved from darkness, and glory from shame. Let me remind you that the Christian religion is full of such paradoxes, and that we belong to an all-powerful God, who has given life to us by His death; who has healed us by His wounds, and who makes us rich by His poverty. I cannot, however, explain the difficulty to you better than by quoting the words of our Blessed Father in one of his letters. He says: "In this alone lies our glory, that our divine Saviour died for us, the Master for His slaves, the just for the unjust."

[Footnote 1: Cf. The Devout Life. Part iv., c. 7.] [Footnote 2: Galat. vi. 14.]

AGAINST OVER-EAGERNESS.

Blessed Francis advised his penitents to avoid above all things, excessive eagerness, which, in his view, is the mortal foe of true devotion. He says: "It is far better to do a few things well than to undertake many good works and leave them half done."

This was the mistake of the man in the Gospel who began to build and was not able to finish because he had not counted the cost beforehand. There are some who think they are never doing well unless they are doing much. They are like the Pharisees who considered the perfection of prayer to consist in its length. Our Lord reproves them for this and much more for devouring widows' houses with their long prayers. In one of his Conferences the Saint speaks thus: "It is not by the multiplicity of things we do that we acquire perfection, but by the perfection and purity of intention with which we do them."

And this is what he says on the subject in his Theotimus: "To do few actions but with great purity of intention and with a firm will to please God, is to do excellently. Such greatly sanctify us. Some men eat much, and yet are ever lean, thin, and delicate, because their digestive power is not good; there are others who eat little, and yet are always in excellent health and vigorous, because their stomach is good. Even so, there are some souls that do many good works and yet increase but little in charity, because they do those good works either coldly and negligently, or have undertaken them rather from natural instinct and inclination than because God so willed and with heaven-given fervour. On the contrary, others there are who get through little work, but do it with so holy a will; and inclination, that they make a wonderful advancement in charity; they have little talent, but they husband it so faithfully that the Lord largely; rewards them for it."[1]

[Footnote 1: Love of God. B. xii., c. 7.]

UPON THE SAME SUBJECT.

Our Blessed Father always insisted on the necessity of discretion as well as charity in our devotion, and warned us against that want of self-restraint and calmness, which he called eagerness. This, he said, is, indeed, the remora of true devotion, and its worst enemy, the more so because it decks itself in the livery of devotion, in order more easily to entrap the unwary and to make them mistake zeal without knowledge for genuine fervour.

He was very fond of that saying of an ancient Emperor: "Make haste slowly," and of another: "Soon enough, if well enough." He would rather have a little done thoroughly well, than a great deal undertaken with over-eagerness. One of his favourite maxims was "Little and good." In order to persuade us that he was right, he used to warn us against thinking that perfection depends on the number of our good works, exterior or interior. When asked what then became of that insatiable love of which the masters of the spiritual life speak, that love which never thinks that it has reached the goal, but is always pressing on farther and farther, spanning the whole extent of heaven with giant strides, he answered: "The tree of that love must grow at the roots, rather than by the branches." He explained his meaning thus: To grow by the branches is to wish to perform a great number of good works, of which many are imperfect, others superfluous like the useless leaves which overload the vine, and have to be nipped off before the grapes can grow to any proper size. On the other hand we grow at the roots when we do only a few good works, but those few most perfectly, that is to say, with a great love of God, in which all the perfection of the Christian consists. It is to this that the Apostle exhorts us when he bids us be rooted and grounded in charity if we would comprehend the surpassing charity of the knowledge of Jesus Christ. True devotion, he used to say, should be gentle, tranquil, and discreet, whereas eagerness is indiscreet, tempestuous, and turbulent.

Especially he found fault with the eagerness which attempts to do several things at once. He said it was like trying to thread more than one needle at a time. One of his favourite mottos was: "Sufficient to the day is the labour thereof."

When he was reproached, as he sometimes was, with bestowing such earnest and undivided attention on the most trivial concerns of the people who came to him for sympathy and advice, he answered: "These troubles appear great to them, and, therefore, they must be consoled, as if they really were so. God knows, too, that I do not want any great employment. It is perfectly indifferent to me what my occupation is so long as it is a serving of Him. To do these small works is all that is, at the time being, asked of me. Is not doing the will of God a work great enough for anyone? We turn little actions into great ones when we perform them with a supreme desire to please God, who measures our services, not by the excellence of the work we do, but by the love which accompanies it, and that love by its purity, and that purity by the singleness of its intention."

UPON LIBERTY OF SPIRIT.

He was a great enemy to every sort of spiritual restriction and constraint, and was fond of quoting the words of St. Paul: Where the spirit of God is, there is liberty.[1] And again: You are redeemed with a great price, do not make yourselves slaves again.[2] He had advised a lady of rank to work with her own hands, in order to avoid sloth, and, as she was well to do, he suggested to her to devote her manual labour to the adornment of altars or to the service of the poor, following the advice of the Apostle, who counsels us to labour with our hands to provide for the wants of the needy. This lady, who always followed his suggestions to the very letter as if they were commands, having done some little piece of work for herself, felt a scruple about the matter, as though she had failed in the exact obedience which she had resolved to yield, not only to the commands of the holy Prelate, but even to his opinions. She therefore, asked him if she ought to give in alms exactly what a piece of work she had done for herself was worth. Moreover, having been advised to fast on Fridays she wished, she said, in order to gain more merit to make a vow that she would always practise this mortification.

Here is his reply: "I approve of your Friday fasts, but not that you should make any vow to keep them, nor that you should tie yourself down, tightly in such matters. Still more do I approve of your working with your hands, spinning and so forth, at times when nothing greater or more important claims your attention, and that what you make should be destined either for the altar or for the poor, I should not, however, like you to keep to this so strictly, that if it should happen that you do something for yourself or for your family you should feel obliged to give the poor the value of your work. For, holy liberty and freedom must reign, and we must have no other law than love, which, when it bids us to do some kind of work for our own family or friends, must not be looked upon as if it had led us to do wrong. Still less does it require us to make amends, as you wished to do seeing that whatever it invites us to take in hand, whether for the rich or for the poor, is equally pleasing to our Lord." What do you think of this doctrine, you who go by rule and measure in valuing an act of virtue? Is liberality displayed towards the rich, in your opinion, worth as much as alms given to the poor? See now, this holy Bishop follows a very different rule, and measuring the one action and the other by the golden standard of charity, esteems them as equal, provided both be done with equal charity.

[Footnote 1: II. Cor. iii. 17.] [Footnote 2: Cor. vii. 23]

UPON NATURE AND GRACE.

In certain minds there seems always to lurk some remains of Pelagianism, a hydra from which though bruised and crushed by the Church—the pillar and bulwark of the Truth—new heads are ever springing forth.

Many, as I am willing to believe, from lack of consideration, ascribe too much to nature, and too little to grace, making too great capital of the matter of moral virtues, and too little of the manner in which they are practised. These people forget that in our works God does not regard how much we do, but with how much love we do it, non quantum, sed ex quanta, in the language of the schools.

On this subject our Blessed Father gives the following excellent advice to a pious person who, because she had to devote the greater part of her time to household affairs and to mix a good deal in society was discouraged, and thought it almost impossible for her to lead a devout life.