memoranda sacra by j. rendel harris fourth edition hodder and stoughton london mcmvii to my beloved in christ jesus it pleased god, in the days when we used to meet together in cambridge for his worship and for personal help, to draw us unitedly very close to himself, so that few of us are likely to forget the seasons of refreshing which we enjoyed from his presence; and if, by his good providence, any of us meet in these later days, one of the readiest sentences to rise to our lips is the word, "do you remember?" the papers which make up this little volume were originally designed to the same end, the remembrance of one another, and of the truths which god taught us. how often were the pencilled notes of one and another put into my hand after some bright and happy meeting, that a few copies might be made and circulated! it is more than fourteen years since this was first done, and the latest fragment of this book is more than ten years old. you can see the creases of time in them, and, indeed, they were never properly rounded. take them, however, collected and reprinted, as a token (the only token i can give) that the moth and rust of time have not eaten away the affection which i had for you all, and that those two thieves, change and death, which were so early busy with us, have not been able to undermine the house of our love, nor abstract the treasure of our common faith. j. rendel harris. contents i. god the god of the living ii. believing and becoming iii. gleaming as crystal iv. heart enlargement v. he restoreth my soul vi. addition and multiplication vii. a conference on death viii. christ will take all ix. strong crying x. the sentinel of the heart xi. thy father in secret xii. tests of faith, love, and rightness xiii. the eternal idea xiv. more light xv. over-overcoming god the god of the living i am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up. forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage. who is like unto thee, o most mighty lord, for verily thy truth is on every side. whither shall i go from thy spirit, or whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i climb up into heaven, thou art there. if i go down unto the dead, thou art there also. if i take the wings of the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. therefore when i sleep in the grave, i am in thy cradle; and when i shall arise up and awake, behold around me are thy everlasting arms. so not alone we land upon that shore: 'twill be as though we had been there before; we shall meet more we know than we can meet below, and find our rest like some returning dove, and be at home at once with our eternal love. i god the god of the living[ ] "now that the dead are raised, even moses shewed at the bush, when he calls the lord the god of abraham, and the god of isaac, and the god of jacob. he is not a god of dead men, but of living men, for all live unto him."--luke xx. , . it is very likely that some of us may have been perplexed in the study of this passage at the answer which the lord jesus gave to the sadducees, and doubtful as to whether their difficulties and questions were fairly met by the text that he quoted. certainly if we had been told to search the scriptures for passages bearing on the future life and the doctrine of the resurrection, this is about the last text that we should have thought of adducing; we should never have detected in these verses a key that would unlock the closed doors between two worlds and make sunlight be where previously all was dark. and even if we had been pointed to this passage containing the revelation of god at the bush, we should probably only have seen in it another of the magnificent affirmations of the divine self-existence, another of the grand "i am's" which sound forth at times from the mount of cloud and vision. we might even have gone so far as to see how much more wonderful it is to have a faith in which, with wonderful simplicity, god says "i am," than merely to have a religion which affirms "he is," and we should have been glad that at any time there were men to whom god spoke for himself. but we should not have supposed that the statement had any bearing on our life and existence, or that it solved, or put us in the way of solving, some of the questions that perplex us. perhaps the principal reason for this lies in the words of jesus himself: "ye do not understand the scriptures nor the power of god." and yet ought we not to be aware of this, that every revelation of god involves a revelation about the creature, just as the earth is affected by every potency and virtue in the sun? revelation is not merely information about god, without relation to our own life and being. for instance: both the spirit and the scripture combine to assure us that god is love. is that merely a piece of theological information about god of which the universe is independent, or does he not in the revelation spread his wide pinions over all creatures that he has made and gather them together as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings? out of such a revelation the willing soul discerns the new jerusalem descend as a bride adorned for her husband; the eager soul receives, the wayward soul returns, the sorrowful soul is comforted. no revelation of god is possible that is simply information without a bearing on my history, my existence, my future. and so with our text we may say the "i am" of god involves the "i shall be" of the creature. if one comes to me and says, "i was your father's friend," it may be either (i.) that my father is dead, or (ii.) that there has been a change in the affection of the person speaking; but if he comes to me and says, "i am your father's friend," he implies two things: the existence of my father and the permanence of his own love for him; and the one just as much as the other. so when god says, not "i was the god of abraham," but "i am," etc., he is not merely asserting his own existence and providence, but the continued life of the faithful of ancient days. and so the "i am" of god proclaims the "i am" of the creature; the soul looks down the sloping years and says of its prospect, "god is, and i am." and christ's answer to the sadducee comes to this: "you are inconsistent in denying the future life; you ought first to have denied the being of god; but as long as he is, beat his saints small as the dust, scatter them to the four corners of the earth, yet he will send forth his angels and gather his elect again from the four winds, and lo! they are sitting down with abraham, isaac, and jacob in the kingdom of god: for he is not the god of dead men, but of living men; and all live unto him!" those who believe in god can easily take heart to look through the mysteries of life and death and to discern glory through the gloom; but the sadducee did not stand in the line of the sunbeams that come from the other world; no wonder it was dark to him. not but what our life is full of mysteries: birth and death alike perplex us; the "whence" and the "whither." he who has studied well his coming and his going, has written out two books of his bible: the genesis and exodus of his book of life. birth and death are alike mysterious; they are something like the vails of the ancient tabernacle, each curiously wrought of purple and scarlet and fine twined linen, but the vail of the most holy place had in addition cunning work and tracery of cherubim. so with our birth and dying--we may learn much from either; but death has the greater wonders traced upon its vail, if we could but get into the right light to read them. there is this difference, too, that, while the first vail is moved aside that we may enter, and closes behind us so that we may not tell from whence we came, the second vail is not drawn back but rent from top to bottom, so that we do not lose our sight of the world that is when we are made a part of the world that is to come. it is through this rent vail that we are looking to-day. it has pleased god that the first-fruits of our meeting should be laid upon the altar; he has called our dear arthur neale to himself. already it has been said over him, "ashes to ashes and dust to dust"; it remains for us to take up our testimony and say, "and soul to soul." dear arthur neale! it has been said that "one cross can sanctify a soul," and he had many crosses; chiefest of all the fear of death. he was something like bunyan's mr. fearing, only his fear was physical, and not produced by doubts as to his final acceptance. but it was grand to see how, at the last, this fear of death, which is, in its very nature, a solicitude for self, was transformed to care for others; just before he passed away, he turned to the dear one watching beside him and asked if she was afraid to see any one die. now let me read you a little about mr. fearing. "when he was come to the entrance of the valley of the shadow of death, i thought i should have lost my man; not for that he had any inclination to go back: that he always abhorred; but he was ready to die for fear.... but this i took notice of, that this valley was as quiet when he went through it as ever i knew it before or since. i suppose these enemies had a special check from our lord, and a commandment not to meddle until mr. fearing was passed over it.... when he was come to the river, where was no bridge, he was again in a heavy case. and here, also, i took notice of what was very remarkable: the water of that river was lower at this time than ever i saw it in all my life. so he went over, at last, not much above wet shod.... i never had any doubt about him; he was a man of very choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life burdensome to himself and troublesome to others." he has sent us his last message: being asked if he had any word for friends, he said, "tell them all, it's all right." it comforts me sometimes to believe that, as we advance in the life, the way becomes easier. i believe this to be the case not only with one who has death at his back, but with every one who walks faithfully with god. jesus says, "my yoke is easy and my burden is light"; and i think to those who follow him faithfully he says, "my yoke is easier and my burden lighter every day." we learn to live with god until it becomes impossible to live without him; we learn to lean on him, until we acquire an instinctive abhorrence of all broken reeds. we begin with cherubim and a flaming sword that turns every way to keep the way of the tree of life; but we end with the same flashing armoury turning us from every path except that which leads to glory and honour and immortality and the city of god. we begin with "he shall give his angels charge against thee," but we end with this, "he giveth his angels charge concerning thee, and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone." such guidance and keeping is heaven; such, too, is heaven on earth. i have kept a few of his letters from which i should like to read you a few sentences:-- _rd december_ . ... thoughts seem to go almost instinctively from the cold weather to the apparent state of spiritual life in the congregations of which i have been a very unwilling member (_i.e. pro tem., d. v._)--the latest invention is a system of feeding souls on historical facts dressed up in flowery english--perhaps this sounds harsh and resentful; perhaps others have not found it such bad food after all. _th january_ . ... i do not know that i can tell you anything more than is contained in two sentences from the chronicles of the schönberg-cotta family: "i feel an atom--but an atom in a solid, god-governed world, where truth is mightiest; insignificant in myself as the little mosses which flutter on these ancient stones; but yet a little moss on a great rock which cannot be shaken--the rock of god's providence and love." "god's common gifts are his most precious; and his most precious gifts--even life itself--have no root in _themselves_; not that they are _without_ root: they are _better_ rooted in the depths of his unchangeable love. henceforth let me be content with the only security dr. luther says god will ever give us--the security of his presence and care." "i will never leave thee." and yet one longs to be less than moss, to be a part of the rock itself; that it may not be i that live, but christ that liveth in me--that death might be swallowed up of life. _th march_ . ... it seems that i'm beginning to learn that it is little use expecting to get messages for others, or be able to help them or speak a word in season unless "we make mention of them _continually_ in our prayers," and give up trying to monopolise the holy ghost for particular times; _i.e._ the holy ghost objects to being a respecter of persons at any time. it remains therefore to pray for you strongly that you may be filled with a knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding quite up to the mark of "rejoicing alway," for this is the will of god concerning us.... the verse that brings me soonest to the self-despair point is this: "herein is love with us made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment, _because as he is, so are we in this world_"; the standpoint of "workers together with god" is a strong one--"it lifts, it bears my drooping soul." to do the will of god, surely this is to abide for ever.... _th february_ . he begins with two scripture quotations: one from the septuagint--"the lord preserveth the infants," in the english "the lord preserveth the simple"; the other--"blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." it has been an experience of the past week, which i am now beginning dimly to recognise, that the child and the child-spirit are necessary elements of the presence of the kingdom--as necessary as they are for _entrance into_ the kingdom. and the kingdom consists in the keeping; in conscious, clearer, simpler on-leading in the life of christ. i am kept because i am a child--when i cease to be kept it is because i become a rebellious child; and of this kingdom and peace there has been no end to-day--there is therefore no hindrance (save a divided will) to its continuance, and thus one is led into the faith of the son of god--that _our brothers are not orphans_, and that prayer and work must in this faith overcome the world. the grace of the lord jesus be present continually to energise in us this faith, and to work in us all the good pleasure of his will. ---------- and so, beloved friends, with these words of his own we conclude our testimony to him; we keep this memorial of the blessed dead, not sorrowing, as those do who have no hope; if we grieve at all, it is that our love was so sparing of the spikenard wherewith we should have anointed him to his burial. ---------- requiescit in pace. "thou has made him most blessed for ever, thou has made him exceeding glad with thy countenace." [ ] _in memoriam, arthur george william neale, b.a. (st. john's college), who passed through the veil st july . aged years._ ii believing and becoming "to as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of god, even to them that believe on his name."--john i. . john soon gets away from abstract theology and takes the soul up into the mount of contemplation, from which it may discern the length and breadth of the land of promise and privilege. he knew that our faith was not only "emmanuel, god with us"; but that if we had the skill and could read the word backwards, we might say,--"and we also with god." he begins his gospel, "the word was with god "; he goes on, "the word was with man"; and then he completes the triangle by saying, "and man also with god"; for "to as many as received him, he gave power to become the children of god." and again, later on, in the seventeenth chapter, we have the thoughts, "i in them," and "thou in me," and "they also in us," until one is left in a delightful perplexity as to the nearness of god to his creatures, and obliged to say that-- god is never so far off as even to be near; he dwells within, the spirit is the home he holds most dear. his faith was not merely that the word became flesh that he might bring god to us, but the word living and suffering that he might bring us to god; his religion not merely the humiliation of the creator, but, in a very real sense, the exaltation of the creature and practical union with the lord of the spirits of all flesh; not only that he for our sakes became poor, but also, that we through his poverty might be made rich. it is into this riches of our inheritance that we want to look this evening. do we know what it is to have not only a heaven in prospect but also one in possession, and to see in christ a high priest of good things present as well as of good things to come? it seems to me that in this passage the religion of jesus is presented to us in two lights: (i.) as believing and receiving; (ii.) as believing and becoming. some people stop short with believing and do not receive. but our faith is certainly an appropriative faculty; a sort of hand of the soul that can be stretched out to take hold of god's offered gifts; or to link itself on to god's hand outstretched to guide us. of what use would a hand be that never grasped anything? perhaps some promise stands out before us, telling us his mind, or it may have been impressed upon us by his spirit. even from a weak faith we can obtain promises; because faith apprehends the nature of god; and as soon as we begin to apprehend that, we see that certain things ought to happen, and ere long these things shape themselves into definite promises which faith applies. so the life is one of believing and receiving; and as our faith pleads the promises, and the appropriative power of the soul is exercised, we find the kingdom of god come to us not in word but in power. but our religion is also believing and becoming; "that as many as received him might become the children of god, even those who believe in his name." much of our faith, so-called, is only a beating of the air, and not really an advancement of the soul; we profess a great deal which has no practical bearing on our own lives. yet all true believing is becoming, and a man cannot be a follower of the lamb, in the real sense of the term, without his becoming moment by moment a different man; he alters his stature, not indeed by taking thought thereunto, but even as the lilies grow; and adding together the receiving and the becoming, we find that we are the children of god. hence it appears that our faith is not a single definite act, done, and done with; but one done and gone on with. and our faith is to be not only definite, but progressive and increasing, leading us from grace to grace, from strength to strength, and from glory to glory. if we take a stranger to view the fitzwilliam museum at cambridge, it is possible that he will say that the outside is the finest part of it, and that it looks best from a distance; or he may say that the entrance-hall, with its display of coloured marbles and polished granite, is the best part of the museum. certainly there are many that look at christianity in this manner; thinking it perhaps a magnificent ideal of life, especially as seen in history; or perhaps as seen at some distance, as we view sunday from the other days of the week. and others there are who think that the entrance of the christian life is the best part of it, who say honestly from experience that the beginning of the life was the best for them. the reason being that they stopped there; otherwise people never could think that the happiest part of the life was that immediately consequent on conversion; for in reality the path of the just is a shining light, that shines more and more unto the perfect day. it is not like one of those ancient egyptian temples of which one reads, in which we pass from daylight to shade as we enter, and into deeper gloom as we approach the secret shrine. the life of faith--progressive, increasing faith--is a motion in a straight line, and not in a closed curve; it is not like an irish penance around a sacred well where one makes progress with the final result of being where you started, and, perhaps, ready for another revolution, as, indeed, it must appear to some christians whose circle is a week and whose starting-point a sunday. neither is it like the pilgrimage up pilate's staircase at rome, in which the pain of going up on one's knees is only varied by the discomfort of coming down again and finding ourselves just about where we were before, as it must appear to some good people who live the up-and-down life. it is an upward and onward life; on our knees, if you will, but upward and upward and, like the stairs in ezekiel's vision, still upward. and the scriptures encourage us forward, bidding us leave the word of the beginning of christ and go (not crawl) on unto perfection. "he gave the power to become the children of god"; the margin suggests "right" or "privilege." theologically this seems a high calling; but we are not to deny things because they are high. "the devil's darling sin is the pride that apes humility," and this affectation of humility is one of the ways in which souls are constantly kept out of blessing; it has been so throughout the history of the church. in the matter of the forgiveness of sins, it is not so long since people said that if a man knew his sins were forgiven, it would make him conceited; and some people still hold it to be a presumption; at other times that eternal life, which consists in the knowledge of god and of jesus christ whom he has sent, is denied; because it is presumptuous for a man to say that he knows god in the same simple matter-of-fact way that he is acquainted with a friend. and nowadays this spiritual affectation takes the form of the denial of holiness, because, if you were kept from sin, you would be sure to be proud of it; as if god were likely to humble a man and make his heart a temple of his own, and then suffer him to be lifted up over the fact. they do not seem to see the contradiction. the lord is pretty sure to humble us a good deal before he gives us anything to be proud of. people say it is presumptuous to be "blameless and harmless, the sons of god without rebuke," and more humble--to be something else. humility is one of those things that lie right in the line of our obedience; or, as a dear friend once said to me,--"the righteousness i am striving after, includes humility." it is a false humility that refuses those good things which god has laid up for those who love him. the true humility says, when the lord has made a feast and bidden his guests, "i shall go and take the lowest place"; but the affected humility says, "oh! it's too good for me; i shall sit down outside"; and so, practically, it becomes numbered amongst those of whom it is said, "they shall not taste of my supper." we need to be like paul, ready to take our place amongst the saints, though less than the least of them; or it may be among the apostles, though not worthy to be called an apostle. god gives us power for what he wants us to be; _i.e._ power for the next step; and all our future life is conditioned upon that. we say, "increase our faith," and he says, "exercise the faith you have." we must exercise the lower power before we attain to the higher. suppose there is a powerful steam-engine which is able to do for you a year's work in a day: it is a reservoir of power, but the power is conditioned upon the exercise of a lower power; you must bring coals and fetch water and make up fire, and by and by the power becomes accessible to you. he that is faithful in least is faithful also in much; we must be faithful to the light already given us, faithful to our powers of love, thought, and obedience, if we are to be brought to the reception of the power in which saints have walked. using the marginal suggestion, we have the _right_ given us to be children of god. we hear much nowadays of people standing on their rights,--on rights real and rights imagined; we have our rights against the enemy of souls; oh! that we would insist on them, and that we would realise how the powers of darkness fly when we look to god bravely and confidently for the promised help. what is involved in thus becoming a child of god? well, for one thing, god is pledged to love us just as much as he loves christ. we sometimes get the idea into our minds that god loves us in a sort of afterthought manner, as a superfluous or unnecessary part of creation. i have found out that he loves us just as much as he loves christ; jesus himself said--"father, thou hast loved them as thou hast loved me." was christ's consciousness of the love of god a mere wavering thing, perhaps known only at critical times; or was it not rather his vital breath and native air? "i will that they also whom thou hast given me may be with me where i am"; and "the only-begotten son is in the bosom of the father." another side of this privilege is that we may be kept from sin. three passages i call to mind in which the children of the highest are spoken of: one is in matt. v. : "that ye may be the children of your father which is in heaven." it goes on--"be ye therefore perfect, even as your father in heaven is perfect." another is in cor. vi. ; "i will be a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and my daughters, saith the lord god almighty." it goes on--"having these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of the lord." the third is in john iii. : "behold what manner of love the father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of god"; and the best reading continues--"and we are so"; it continues with "purifieth himself as he is pure," and "he that abideth in him sinneth not." finally, does it seem a contradiction in terms to talk of becoming a child? it is indeed hard to turn the streams of life backward and make them return to their source: a long way back, too, for some of us; again we take comfort from the scripture, and remember that "when he was yet a great way off, his father ran and fell on his neck and kissed him." iii gleaming as crystal "and he shewed me a pure river of water of life, gleaming as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of god and of the lamb."--rev. xxii. . if we are to understand the new jerusalem properly, we almost need to have been citizens of the _old_. on this subject, even more than in the general interpretation of the scriptures, we are entitled to answer the question--"what advantage then hath the jew?" with an unhesitating expression of "much every way"; for unto them pertained the city of god. for example, when we read, in galatians, the passage in which st. paul speaks of the old covenant, under the terms "agar" and "mount sinai in arabia," who but those who had felt the galling of a foreign yoke, and the insolence and exaction of roman tyranny, could have realised the pathos of the words "and correspondeth to jerusalem, which now is, and is in bondage with her children"; and what citizen of the new and spiritual city, who had not also dwelt within the ancient and outward walls, could have felt the full contrast expressed in the triumphant thanksgiving that "jerusalem, which is above, is free"? in the same way, if one would understand the magnificent passage in which the writer of the epistle to the hebrews describes the new jerusalem, one would need to have worshipped within the courts of the old. how else can one see the lines traced in the picture, and mark the analogy between the multitude of white-robed priests and the innumerable company of angels; or see the general assembly of folk gathered for festival from all parts of the land? here, too, are the consecrated eldest-born, and here the rolls in which their names are entered; and, passing within the veil, even in ancient days, one might say, in some sense, "we are come to god the judge of all, and to jesus the mediator of the covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling." so you will understand that the best place to view the new jerusalem from is the ruins of the old. it is in this spirit that we want to study the gleaming waters "that make glad the city of god." observe, then, that the ancient jerusalem was not situated, as most cities, on the banks of some river, or the shore of some sea. it stood in a peculiar position, at some distance from either: it was badly watered; we read of a pool or two, of a little brook, of an aqueduct and some other artificial water-structures. bearing this fact in mind, you will understand how forcible an appeal to the imagination would be contained in the verse of the th psalm, which tells of a river that should "make glad the city of god." in evidence of the foregoing you may notice the following remark of philo on the verse quoted (_de somniis_, ii. ); "the holy city, which exists at present, in which also the holy temple is established, is at a great distance from any sea or river, so that it is clear that the writer here means figuratively to speak of some other city than the visible city of god." it is evident, therefore, that the mention of a pure, fresh stream flowing through the midst of jerusalem was a figure of a very striking nature; and we say, that the basis of this magnificent description in the apocalypse lies in the insufficiency of the water-supply of the ancient city. god takes our outward necessities and uses them as figures by which to make us alive to the facts of our inward neediness, and of the abundant power that there is in him to satisfy us. the bible is full of promises as outwardly impossible as that a river should flow through the midst of jerusalem. the streams of life, the floods of holy influence, the manifestations of divine grace, shall be for you like that imagined river; and however difficult it may be to believe such a heaven on earth as that indicated to be possible-- faith, mighty faith, the promise sees, and looks to that alone; laughs at impossibilities, and cries--"it shall be done." the life of the future, and by that we mean heaven on earth as well as heaven, shall be as different from that which you are now realising as the water-supply of jerusalem would be if a river flowed in the midst, from what it is now with merely kidron and bethesda and siloam and solomon's pools. so we say (i.) that the life is not a half-stagnant pool, like siloam; nor (ii.) an intermittent fountain, like bethesda; nor (iii.) an artificial construction, like solomon's aqueducts; nor (iv.) a poor weak puny stream, defiled by the city through which it passes, like the brook kidron. ( ) it is not a standstill life: no one can stand still who lives with god. if god is the fountain of your life, there will be no green mantle on the surface telling how long you have been in one place. neither in earth nor in heaven do we stand still or stay where we are. take up the anchor and the ship follows the tide, and in god the tide always sets one way. you cannot stand still without anchoring to the creature. there must be fresh discoveries of truth and duty every day; and fresh inquisition made into the heights and depths of redeeming love. abandonment to god must mean advancement in god. they who love god cannot love him by measure, for their love is a hunger to love him still better. ( ) neither in earth nor in heaven is the life to be an intermittent one. some have said that the pool of bethesda was connected with one of those intermittent springs that one sometimes comes across, and have explained by that means the periodical disturbances in the waters. there is one of these springs pointed out on the road from buxton to castleton in derbyshire, but it showed no signs of anything extraordinary when i was there. however, whether bethesda is of this nature or not, it is certain that the spiritual life of many believers is too much of the character of an intermittent spring. i want to tell you that there should be no such word as "revival" in the dictionary of the christian church: we want "life," not "revival." you hear people saying of certain religious movings--"they are having quite a revival"; alas! and were they dead before? indeed, i am sure this intermittent fountain expresses only too accurately the lives of many of us. the best that god can do with us is to make us an occasional blessing--a sorrowful thing to confess when there are suffering ones around waiting and watching the surface of our hearts to see whether there is any moving of the water. i think, therefore, to tell you the secret of the intermittent spring. every such spring is fed from an inner chamber in the rock in which the rains accumulate; but it is only as long as the water is above a certain level that the outward flow is maintained. if the inner chamber be kept full, the outward supply will be constant. and we know, apart from our figure, that when the inner life is renewed day by day, the outward is no longer an intermittent spring, but an overflowing cup. neither in earth nor in heaven has a christian a right to go below "par" in his spiritual life. i have been trying to imagine what it would be in heaven if angels were to neglect the influx of vital force that comes from the throne of god and of the lamb; if at any time they were to feel not up to singing-mark or service-mark, what a strange heaven it would presently be; and what strange music with notes wanting,--sometimes in the air and sometimes in the bass. we know, however, that the real character of their life and service is not intermittent, but is expressed in the words, "they rest not day nor night, saying, 'holy, holy, holy, is the lord of hosts.'" ( ) it is not a life for which the world is too strong, and which cannot therefore be kept pure. it is not figured by a little brook, as kidron, defiled with all the impurities of a city, and that an oriental city. and yet how many lives there are of which we have to say, "the world is too strong for them"; well-intentioned people, but feeble in grace, and who have received but little of the life of god. the cup was indeed put into their hands, but they were afraid to drink deeply, though the voice by their side was saying, "drink abundantly, o beloved." they drink down to the level of forgiveness, and, perhaps, grace; but not down to glory and the receiving of the spirit; they do not realise that "he that drinketh of the water that i shall give him shall never thirst"; they do not overcome the world; one has almost to make a fresh text for them,--"this is the defeat wherewith they are worsted, even their little faith." ( ) it is not a humanly-devised life, as solomon's aqueducts. our faith stands not in human structures; not in the westminster confession; not in the xxxix. articles. it stands not in the wisdom of men, but in the power of god. the divine life is not sect, and it is not system. what is your sect? a pipe whose power of supply is limited by its diameter; whatever we can learn from the maxims and traditions of men, is but a little compared with what we may learn from god directly. the channel of a sect! it is a pipe that bursts when the tide of life rises beyond a certain point. the channel of a system! it is an aqueduct through which, if one stone be taken out, the water ceases to reach you. our little systems have their day; they have their day and cease to be; they are but broken lights of thee; and thou, o lord, art more than they. if one travels on the continent, one can see (i think it is at avignon) the ruins of the ancient roman aqueduct; but the rhine and the rest of the rivers of god flow on still, full of water. let names and sects and parties fall, that jesus may be all in all. as we learn to live the life of dependence upon the lord, we must not be surprised if a great deal of our early theology drops off: it does not always sit down with us in heavenly places in christ jesus. instead of solomon's pools and aqueducts there is given to us a pure river of water of life, gleaming as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of god and of the lamb; and i think we may say of those who receive the life of god in this immediate and wonderful manner, that "not even solomon, in all his glory, was so well supplied as one of these." finally, we may say, that the life is one of absolute dependence, and is conditioned on the sovereignty of god and of the lamb. grace and the holy ghost are the portions of the dependent soul: they only flow from the throne of god and of the lamb. i am amazed to find how much of true religion may be resolved into that one word "dependence." i can remember the time when i could not enter into the psalm, "lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do i exercise myself in great matters, nor in things too high for me"; nor sing the verse, "i would be treated as a child, and guided where i go." now it is, i hope, different. moreover, we are sure that this spirit of dependence is one of the main features of the angelic life; we cannot imagine it otherwise; for the source of the river is the throne. we sang in our hymn the lines-- i know thou hast my heart, and i have heaven; but we can only sing the second line where we have said or sung the first. iv heart enlargement "i will run the way of thy commandments, when thou shall enlarge my heart."--ps. cxix. . if we were to study the names of the different sects and parties that make up the "ishmael" of god, we should find them to be singularly unsuggestive of such a thing as the existence of a spiritual life; nor could we easily infer from the nomenclature of so-called christendom that "there is a spirit in man, and that the inspiration of the almighty giveth him understanding." now, this is a very curious fact; for one would have expected that about the first thing suggested by the appellations of christian bodies would have been some phase or other of the inward life. but we are not going to spend our time to-night in discussing sects, or deploring their divisions, although we cannot altogether refrain regret when we contemplate the seamless robe of christ rent into more than twain, and dabbled in blood worse than joseph's coat was when his father said, "some evil beast hath devoured him"; and although it does seem to us sometimes, as we contemplate the havoc of schisms and strife of sects, as if some convulsion from beneath had shaken down the towers of the new jerusalem, and streams from the nether fires had coursed down the channels of the river of life. what we want to do is to think a little about the true broad church; not that branch of christianity which commonly goes under the name, and which makes one of the instances referred to of the unsuitableness of names applied to religious schools and parties, but the spiritual broad church, which is the church of enlarged hearts. the school we want to belong to is the school of spiritual free-thinkers, who are at liberty to learn all that god has to teach them. the true broad church is that in which an enlarged obedience to god's commandments is brought about by an enlarged experience of his love; and his commandments and his love are both of them exceeding broad. all true spiritual life must widen the soul; the more we live with jesus, the more impossible will it be for any of us to be narrow. our littleness takes refuge with god, and his greatness makes its abode with us; we bring him our unworthiness and he imparts to us his righteousness; we offer to him our hearts barren of sympathy and deficient in affection, and presently we find the love of god shed abroad in our hearts by the holy ghost that is given to us. thus, when acquainted with god we cannot be really narrow; they might as well call the lord jesus christ narrow. we want to be as broad in our sympathies and in our views as he was; and neither broader nor narrower. true spiritual life will widen the soul in its _possessions_, its _perceptions_, its _will_, and its _love_; it will extend our powers of _having_, of _knowing_, of _willing_, and of _loving_; and, in one or other of these four, most of our life is included. ( ) how very little we possess, both in outward and inward things. this is one of the points in which we are disposed to agree with the saying that the circumference of our circle is very near to the centre. we can grasp very little. our hands are small and the world is large. "tell me how i can make my broad acres more broad," is the request of the rich man. "tell me how i can make my narrow holding less narrow," is the cry of the poor. but a life in god makes us rich, for "all things are yours; whether paul, or apollos, or cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present or things to come;--all are yours; and ye are christ's; and christ is god's." "blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth." "there is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life." and madame guyon says, "have i not infinitely more than a hundredfold, in so entire a possession as thou my lord hast taken of me, in that unshaken firmness which thou givest me in my sufferings, in a perfect tranquillity in the midst of a furious tempest that assails me on every side, in an unspeakable joy, enlargedness, and liberty which i enjoy in a most strait and rigorous captivity?" ( ) how trifling is our knowledge! yet fewer people will assent to the lack of knowledge, for many think they know a good deal. as in the times of socrates, it is only the wise man who knows he knows nothing. and yet how little we know! we know but little of things in this world, with all our sciences and study, and we know much less about god, and glory, and immortality, and the spirits which live outside the tent of this mortal flesh, or of any of those things which "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard." and with all our books of theology and treatises on spiritual life, we are almost obliged to say that "all is less than nothing and vanity." but we believe that for those whom god enlarges, there is an unspeakable increase in the perceptive powers of the soul: they are taught things that no one else knows anything about, and that are hidden from the wise and prudent. there is knowledge for the simple and lowly ones; for those who, in the spiritual strength they have derived from god, run in the way of his commandments. looking into the father's face, and into the saviour's heart, the soul can say, "this is life eternal, to know thee the only true god, and jesus christ whom thou hast sent." and with the knowledge there comes the aspiration that we, "being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints," and to beseech for all souls, "the breadth, and length, and depth, and height, and to know the love of christ, which passeth knowledge." and again it is said, "ye have an anointing from the holy one, and ye know all things." is this a little knowledge? all things are possible to you in possession and in perception. ( ) how little is our _will-power_. we often want to do right, and the force of habits or of grooves is too strong for us. we have not enough momentum to carry us out or enough moral force to deny the past and to assert the future. constantly rises up in judgment the days that have been; and when looking at the blessed vision of god of the days that shall be, the past rises up and says, "it is not for you"; and we have not power to deny this, and to believe in god that he will work all the good pleasure of his will in us. it seems almost impossible for us ever to become saints. when we get to understand a little about righteousness and holiness, we do feel utterly inadequate to choose such a righteousness, or to compel ourselves to live out such a holiness. the only remedy is the divine enlargement of heart which comes from the visitation of the spirit. we carry our brokenness to god; we put our helpless will at his feet, and he energises it, and sends us back from the altar-steps, or from the glory where we have met with him, able to say, "i _delight_ to do _thy_ will, o my god." and although for each one of us there will be a gethsemane, "a place of tears," as there was for the master, yet we shall come through with our will unbroken, because it will be the will of god strong within us. ( ) how small is our capacity for loving or forgiving. many think they have capacity for an infinite love, and would be able to exhibit it if they could find a worthy object. but i believe our love is a strictly measurable quantity, and dependent on the state of grace we are in. only those who have the spirit within them, energising them, can truly love at all. again, we fall at the lord's feet, and tell him we have no power even to be civil to some people, much less to love them; scarcely power to put up the weapons of revenge against some; and even to those whom, like the publicans and pharisees and sinners, we love because they love us, we have not been able to make an adequate return for the love they have lavished upon us. then god teaches us that there lies in him the power of enlarging the human affections, and he enlarges our hearts that we, "being rooted and grounded in love,"--not only in the experimental realisation of his love to us, but also in the experimental living out of our love to him, and to all that he has made and given us,--are able to "run the way of his commandments." for that is his new commandment, "that we love one another." our practical state will depend on the enlarging of our hearts. we talk of large-hearted people, but they are not so by nature in the sense god wishes. it needs a divine operation and a definite divine experience to enable us to live out the law of the new testament. thus to _do_ more, we must first of all _be_ more. this is the gospel way all through. god never teaches us that we are to _do_ and afterwards to _be_. what preachers tell you about dead works means simply that it is a mistake for us to try to do before we have learned to be. you may see a little child trying to lift a heavy weight, and you tell it that it must wait till its muscles are stronger: it must wait till it has _become_. this was the way at the beginning in conversion: "dead works" means that in us there does not dwell force or power to lift the great weight of the commandment or righteousness of god; hence they are useless or stupid works. when you find in your heart your inability to fulfil the divine commandment, and have not the strength and power you want, though all day trying to lift the heavy weight, you come to god and say, "it is plain that, as i am, i cannot live out this righteousness, and i come for a new life to live it out. i must have thine own strength." then we understand our lord's saying, "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god." you have lived this out in some way since you were converted; but you have not realised enough the more blessed life; you know a little of walking in the way, but running in the way brings you face to face with something outside your strength and power. it is no use to try and do work which needs a stronger man, unless we can become stronger men. many make a mistake here; they are trying to live out holiness before they have got the heart-enlarging. but it is no use our trying to be holy, until god makes us holy. we try to take the first part of the verse alone, and then we break down. "my heart breaks down: i can never be a runner." you are trying to live out his commandments, without having the visitation of the enlarged heart; you must get on to definite dealings with god for a visitation of the spirit; when he has come, you will have the strength and peace of god with you. it seems to me painfully sad to hear people sorrowing: "i know it is my privilege, but i cannot make it real; and although one can sometimes do little acts of mercy, or even attain to humble acts of faith, the life does not flow on naturally and simply." and _it will not_, unless you have an experience at the back coming out of his visitation. to do more we must be more; get a new master, be a new man; get a new experience, and you will be a new christian. all writers who have spoken of the advanced spiritual life have taught that there is an enlargement of the soul, and they use the strongest language possible. so we find madame guyon saying:-- "this vastness or enlargedness which is not bounded by anything, however plain and simple it may be, increases every day; so that my soul in partaking of the qualities of her spouse, seems also to partake of his immensity."--_madame guyon_, vie. ii. . and philo:-- "having broken the chains by which it (the soul) was formerly bound, which all the empty anxieties of mortal life fastened round it, and having led it forth and emancipated it from them, he has stretched, and extended, and diffused it to such a degree that it reaches even the extreme boundaries of the universe, and is borne onwards to the beautiful and glorious sight of the uncreated god."--_philo_, de ebrietate, . so in dr. cudworth's sermon, which was printed some time ago:-- "when we have cashiered this self-will of ours, which did but shackle and confine our soules, our wills shall then become truly free, being widened and enlarged to the extent of god's own will."--_cudworth_, sermon before the house of commons, p. . "there is a straitnesse, slavery, and narrownesse in all sinne; sinne crowds and crumples up our souls, which, if they were freely spread abroad, would be as wide and large as the whole universe. no man is truly free but he that hath his will enlarged to the extent of god's own will, by loving whatsoever god loves, and nothing else.... he enjoys a boundlesse liberty and a boundlesse sweetnesse, according to his boundlesse love. he enclaspeth the whole world within his outstretched arms, his soul is as wide as the whole universe, as big as yesterday, to-day and for ever. whosoever is once acquainted with this disposition of spirit, he never desires anything else; and he loves the 'life of god' in himself, dearer than his own life."--_id._, p. . and finally in the _imitatio christi_:-- "they that willingly and freely serve me shall receive grace for grace. but he who desires to glory in things out of me, or to take pleasure in some private good, shall not be grounded in true joy, nor be enlarged in his heart, but shall many ways be encumbered and straitened.... and if heavenly grace enter in and true charity, there will be no envy nor narrowness of heart, neither will self-love busy itself. for divine charity overcometh all things and enlargeth all the powers of the soul."--_de imitatione christi_, iii. . we conclude, then, that self can never measure the length and breadth of the divine love, and run in the way of his commandment. we need god to make us understand god; we must be in union with him in order to obey him. distances on the earth may be measured by a foot-rule or a surveyor's chain, but to measure the spaces between the stars we must have a base-line in the sky. only by being partakers of the divine nature can we live out the divine life; and no man knoweth the father save the son, and he to whom the son will reveal him. v he restoreth my soul "so when they had dined, jesus saith to simon peter, simon, son of jonas, lovest thou me more than these? he saith unto him, yea, lord; thou knowest that i love thee. he saith unto him, feed my lambs. "he saith to him again the second time, simon, son of jonas, lovest thou me? he saith unto him, yea, lord; thou knowest that i love thee. he saith unto him, feed my sheep. "he saith unto him the third time, simon, son of jonas, lovest thou me? peter was grieved because he saith unto him the third time, lovest thou me? and he saith unto him, lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that i love thee. jesus saith unto him, feed my sheep."--john xxi. - . the whole story contained in these verses carries us back in thought to the time when peter denied the lord. they contain the first recorded words which passed between christ and peter since the latter had said, "i know not the man," and the lord had "turned and looked upon peter." he had his special token of lovingkindness at the resurrection in the message which the woman brought: "tell his disciples and peter," in the witness given to himself, "the lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to simon," and in his participation in the blessing when the lord stood in the midst and said, "peace be unto you"; but these are, i think, the first recorded words addressed directly to peter. peter had professed to be faithful above others; and now the lord asks him, "lovest thou me more than these?" and the question thrice repeated can scarcely fail to remind us of the triple denial. if we consider what must have been the state of peter's mind after he had denied the lord, we shall see that the circumstances recorded indicate a crisis in his life-history. how the enemy must have come in like a flood! what desolation of spirit he must have experienced during those lonely moments that followed the look of the lord, when he went out, and wept bitterly! the enemy was come against him in full force, and legions of evil spirits had arisen to destroy his faith for ever. one would say to him, "thou hast sinned against special warnings; the lord said to thee particularly that satan had desired to have thee that he might sift thee as wheat. a little later on he said, 'pray that ye enter not into temptation;' and a sin against special warning is more than twice a sin; and it was that sin which of all others thou didst think to be so great that it was impossible for thee to commit it." then another spirit would say, "thou hast sinned against special promise; for thee the saviour prayed; but now it is clear that thou hast outsinned the mediator's grace and the intercessor's prayers"; and at the thought black despair and utter hopelessness would enter his soul, as if to make it their eternal abode. then a third spirit would suggest the thought, "i said, 'i know not the man!' dost remember, peter, how he himself said, 'i will declare unto you, that i never knew you;' and again, 'whosoever denieth me before men, him will i also deny before my father in heaven!' no word of christ shall be broken; yea, thou thyself hast in past time established thyself on the faithfulness of his truth!" again would come the thought, "by thy words shalt thou be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned; and of every idle word that men shall speak they shall give an account in the day of judgment--how much more then for a _deliberate_ word, affirmed, and reaffirmed, and affirmed again." it was as if a judgment-seat were already set up in his soul, and the spirits were pleading him outside mercy; not one would speak in his behalf. even the promises and the threatenings were against him; the first saying, we strengthened him; and the second, we warned him. then some voices would testify against him on a side where one would think nothing would have been said, "thou hast injured the faith; thou hast weakened the brethren; thou hast been infidel against love, and for such there is no repentance; thou hast sold thy lord at a cheaper rate than judas!" "dost thou remember, peter, that tree which the lord cursed, because, when he had a right to expect fruit from it, it bore none? was there ever a time when the master expected so much from thee as this? and now he has come, and found 'nothing but leaves.'" then, perhaps, one ray of hope would gleam into his darkened soul--"but the lord did pray for me, and he never prayed in vain. he said, father, i know that thou hearest me always; and he prayed for me." and then the spirits would answer, "but the lord prayed for thee that thy faith might not fail, and _it has failed_; where now is the power of the lord's prayer? and if that has failed what remains for thee unless it be a certain fearful looking-for of judgment. if even he who said, 'father, i thank thee that thou hearest me always,' has been refused in his petition; even god is against thee, and the stars in their courses rule thee down, simon, son of jonas." another bitter shaft enters his heart: "dost thou remember, peter, how the lord said of his own followers, 'i have kept them in thy name, and none of them is lost but the son of perdition'? thou hast not only made vain the lord's prayers, but denied the lord's faith, and caused him to appear before heaven and earth as a false witness. would he speak like that now, if he were beginning his intercessory prayer again? would he not have to say, 'none of them is lost, except the sons of perdition, the denier and the betrayer'? so that even christ's words failed to meet his case." "and now, peter, the high priest is asking him of his disciples and his doctrines; what thoughts must be in his mind about thee when he takes up his testimony concerning those for whom he has lavished his life! the question will wring his heart anew into great drops of blood." "moreover, thou hast sinned against the strongest light and the highest privilege; it was given to thee to be with him at the most solemn and sacred times: thou wast with him at the transfiguration in the holy mount; and if ever heaven could strengthen earth, thou shouldst have been a strong man. thou wast with him at times of special power, when only two or three were privileged to see the grace and glory flow down upon the suffering and the dying. will not the greatness of thy privilege be the greatness of thy condemnation? he always chose thee to be with him in special times when he went apart for prayer: to whom much is given, of them will much be required. oh! how hast thou fallen!" and the spirits away in the darkness would say, "thou art become even as one of us." then he would remember how in his own family, almost in his own flesh, he had received special mercy; and that work of healing would rise up to condemn him. sin against mercy is sin without mercy; a thousand times thou art condemned, having sinned against such light and privilege and grace. then some spirits would whisper, "dost thou remember how when many were leaving the lord, because his doctrines were hard to receive and his steps hard to follow, he asked the question, 'will ye also go away?' who was it that answered so readily, 'lord, to whom shall we go?' would it not have been better to have denied him at the first than to have waited till the light had grown as clear as it has been, and to have deserted him when he needed thee most? better to have denied him then, when evidence was feeble, than to disown him, known as thou hast been privileged to know him!" we are not told one word about what peter did or where he went, except that he went out weeping. when the morning came and they were leading jesus away to crucifixion, john was there, but no mention is made of peter. and yet i think i know where he went, and can see him taking his way across the brook, which so lately he had crossed with jesus, to the garden of olive-trees. he would say to himself, "here is the place where the lord came and found me sleeping"; and "here he said to me, 'pray, pray, that ye enter not into temptation.'" going a little farther, he would come to the place where the master himself had prayed. he would kneel and pray there too; in the place where there were still lying on the ground great drops of blood, the earth still wet with the strange sorrow of the lamb. there, in his despair, he would kneel; and yet even in his despair would be turned towards god. his heart would be turned, even when he thought it never would be turned again; he would be there, without comfort, and yet god comforting him. maybe, for him, too, there were strengthening angelic ministries; for there are more of these heavenly messengers with us than we think. perhaps some words of ancient promise might be brought to his mind by god, as he was kneeling there; such as, "my soul cleaveth unto the dust, quicken thou me according to thy word!" "a bruised reed he will not break, and smoking flax he will not quench, till he bring forth judgment into victory." "he restoreth my soul, he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." but whatever means were adopted, we believe that god was with him--comforting, restoring, saving, strengthening him. all this prepares us for the scene by the lake. this must have struck peter as very like another passage in the intercourse between him and jesus. strange scene! we are back in galilee; we experience again a night of fruitless toil. this was my place of consecration at the first; and these nets, which i borrow now, were then my own; and it was in the morning that the lord was standing on the beach, as he did even now. there is no mere repetition in this story: to a soul in peter's case the one impossible thing would be that he should ever regain the place from whence he fell. and the lord was going to convince him, by means of these similar circumstances and the miraculous draught of great fishes, that there was for him, even for him, such a thing as a fresh start; and that he should not mourn because there was "no returning upon his former track." when the boat had been brought to land, the lord questioned peter, not saying, "thou didst deny me," but "dost thou love me?" and finally repeats in his ears the old word with which he moved him to tread the heavenly way at the first--"follow thou me." there were now no boats or nets which peter could leave for the lord, but the whole drama of consecration is acted over again. "follow me, peter; what thou hast missed shall yet be given thee; formerly there was a point beyond which thou couldst not follow me; but now thou shalt tread in my footsteps, even to the cross which thou didst fear at the first, and to the shame from which erewhile thy soul recoiled." "another shall carry thee whither thou wouldest not: this spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify god." vi addition and multiplication "he that lacketh these things is blind and short-sighted, and hath forgotten that he was purged from his old sins."-- peter i. . the chapter from which these verses are taken describes two arithmetical processes, the working out of one of which belongs to us, and of the other to our father in heaven. the first is an addition sum: "add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly-kindness love." writing down the figures of the sum, and computing the total, we have it set out fair and clear,--"ye shall never fall." the other is god's multiplication sum: "grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of god and of jesus our lord"; and the result of the working comes out,--"ye shall be made partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust." i suppose it means that if we are willing to go on at an arithmetical progression, god would work in us at a geometrical one; and so, patiently persisting in holiness, and hungering after righteousness, we shall be in heaven before we know where we are. but such passages trouble some folk who don't like to think that a christian has anything to do in the matter of his own salvation; who say "it is finished" over a work that is only begun in them, and "jesus paid it all," when a voice within is saying, "how much owest thou unto thy lord?" or, perhaps, if they do not put it quite so strongly as that, they are, to say the least, gravely suspicious of the existence of a creaturely activity in the spiritual life. let us settle, then, in the beginning, that god never requires us to exercise ourselves to win his favour, nor calls us to work for one in whom we have no faith. he never says, "add to your darkness grace; and to grace mercy; and to mercy peace." that would be impossible; for grace, mercy, and peace are experienced in the divine operation; and it is because we have so received them that we are able to fulfil the commandments given to us. god sets us this sum to work, but he gives us a clean slate on which to work it; he cleanses that inward tablet on which we have been working out quite a different sum, whose total is given in the words,--"the wages of sin is death"; he purifies it, that there may be written thereon the steps and the summation of the redemption that is in christ jesus. now, some one will say, "does every one have to go through a process of development of virtues such as is indicated in this epistle, and must every one have them all, and produce them in the same order? may we not develop just a few of them, by a sort of spiritual selection, as flowers have their own colours, and the creatures their own forms and features?" to this we answer (i.) that if you are to be a saint, as god has called you to be, you must have the qualifications and nature of a saint; (ii.) we ought not to recoil from this sum, as if the casting of the figures were necessarily a long process. no, not long! how long does it take one to reach love? why, we commonly use the expression "falling in love"; and when the heart is awakened to the sense of the universal presence of the father, it is not difficult to love men for his sake. as for the virtues, we must have them all. shall we imagine an impatient saint, called to follow him who when reviled, reviled not again; an ignorant saint, a partaker of him in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge; an intemperate saint, to follow him who was living at a cheaper rate, for a man, than the foxes or the fowls; an unloving saint! into whose heart have been breathed the words, "love is the fulfilling of the law," or, which is the same thing, "christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth"? yes, we must have them all. what, will you complain, like little children, because your teacher has been giving you too many rows to add up? will you say, "lord, you overrate my powers; you think too highly of the grace that you have given me; i know you, that you are a hard man, an austere man"? does it matter in what order we ascend our virtue-scale? not at all. an addition sum comes to the same thing whether you put it + or + . for myself, i would like to begin the addition from the bottom row, starting with love; but it does not matter, so that all the figures are included. the apostle goes on to speak of the effect of such a chain of experience upon the perceptive powers of the soul; he who has these things, well; his eye shall see the king in his beauty and the land of far distances; he who has them not, he is blind and short-sighted; or, as luther and the vulgate render it, is blind, and gropes with his hands. spiritual short-sightedness is the result of the neglect of the pursuit of the prize of the high calling of god in christ. an indistinct vision may result from one of two causes: a fault in the eye, or an obstruction in the atmosphere. if you cannot make out a distant object while other people can, they will say to you, "how short-sighted you are!" but if no one can discern it, the probability is that something external has made vision impossible. now, in the things of god, it is almost always the first defect that mars our perception; and the main reason why "eye hath not seen" is in our own nature, and not because god has not prepared nor revealed such things for our perception. to them that love him, he reveals; wherefore let us add to kindness love, and we shall know. there are many things to which we are blind, because we have not practised ourselves in looking for them, nor do we know in what direction to look. i remember, when in the isle of arran, watching through a mist for the coming of the steamer from glasgow; our landlady found it long before we could detect it, because she was more used to the quest; her eyes were keener, and she knew the direction in which to look. and the soul that ardently believes and hopes, knows well how to lift up its eyes to the hills from whence its help shall come, and to discern the help when it appears. there are some people who seem ignorant of the fact that god has given them spiritual faculties suited to the observation of spiritual realities. they are like folks who, if they were put down ten miles from home on a clear night, would never be able to tell you on which side of the sky the sun would rise; because they never exercised their powers in the observation of the way the skies go round. and not only may we discern spiritual realities, but more than that, it is written that the pure in heart shall see god. for god has not given up revealing himself to men yet; but this is an age in which, while there are many who know him a little, there are few who know him much. he spake to the fathers. he is speaking still. enoch was not the last of whom it should be said, "he walked with god, he pleased god"; isaiah not the only one who could say, "i beheld the lord sitting on a throne high and lifted up"; paul not the only one who should be privileged with rapture to the third heaven; george fox not the only one to whom it was given to say, "i was come up, through the naming sword, into the paradise of god." many there are who have known "the most high god no vision, nor that one who rose again." god, who at sundry times, in manners many, spake to the fathers and is speaking still, eager to find if ever, or if any souls will obey and hearken to his who that one moment has the least descried him, dimly and faintly, hidden and afar, doth not despise all excellence beside him, pleasures and powers that are not and that are. aye, amid all men bear himself thereafter, smit with a solemn and a sweet surprise, dumb to their scorn and turning on their laughter only the dominance of earnest eyes. whoso has felt the spirit of the highest cannot confound nor doubt him nor deny; yea, with one voice, o world, though thou deniest, stand thou on that side, for on this am i. yes! things that were seen of old may be seen again; voices that spake to prophets and seers be revived in the innermost soul of god's faithful children; god is not dead; the lord jesus has not been raised from the grave to be placed in an inaccessible limbo, far from the sight of believing eyes: the holy spirit still speaks, as of old time, by holy men; he has not left the world yet, he dwelleth with you, he shall be in you. suppose i were to say to you that if you were to go down to hastings you would be able to see the french coast clearly and distinctly, you would say, "impossible even to the longest-sighted person; it is more than fifty miles away"; and yet, as you may see in the philosophical transactions for , the coast of france was so visible, without a telescope, from calais to st. vallery, with the fishing-boats, and the colour of the houses clearly perceived. when you hear this, you say, "well, if it is in the philosophical transactions, it must be true, and if it happened once, it may happen again." good enough reasoning; and the scriptures are the spiritual transactions, the record of god's dealings with and revealings to men of old time. if they are true, he has unveiled the hidden mysteries not once or twice to waiting souls; and what he has done, he not only may do again, but will do, wherever he finds a truly humble heart in which to work and rest. if he stood by paul, saying, "fear not," just as really and maybe as evidently will he stand by you: if he guided him in his work, restraining him from preaching here, and calling him to service there, he will give you also leadings just as certain and maybe as distinct. but, do you say, "are we then to seek for signs and wonders, to fast and pray, ardently longing for the divine revelation, until the vision dawns?" i do not say so; but rather add unto your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness love: for if ye do these things ye shall never fall, and an entrance shall be abundantly ministered unto you into the everlasting kingdom of our lord jesus christ. vii a conference on death "and, behold, there talked with him two men, which were moses and elias, who appeared in glory, and spake of his exodus which he should accomplish at jerusalem."--luke ix. , . we shall not attempt to explain the whole subject of the transfiguration, but let us consider for what jesus went up into the mountain. the common opinion is that he went up to enjoy himself--in search of some spiritual ecstacy. but in this case there would have been no transfiguration. spiritual rapture comes after earnest labour through eager prayer--it is not found by seeking--we have not to look for feelings or ecstacies; we need "to know the will of god, and to do it." jesus went up into the mount to pray about death--the subject which had a little before been borne in upon his mind--for we read in matt. xvi. , in the narration of events just preceding the transfiguration, that "from that time forth began jesus to show unto his disciples, how that he must go unto jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day." when the devil took him up into a mountain, he showed him "all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, and said unto him, 'all these things will i give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.'" when the spirit of god took jesus up into the mountain, he showed him the cross, the shame, the suffering,--the spear and the crown of thorns, and said, "all these will i give thee." the highest experiences of the christian life are close bound up, in the divine will, with suffering. jesus went up into the mount to get a better view of his approaching sorrow. the transfiguration is slightly apprehended and seldom discussed. very few sermons are preached, or great pictures painted, or hymns sung, on the subject. almost the only verse one knows about it-- when in ecstacy sublime tabor's glorious steep i climb, at the too transporting light darkness rushes o'er my sight, implies that it is a subject beyond human understanding. we have hymns on his incarnation and advent, his divine glory and worship, his mediatorial character and titles, passion, death, resurrection, ascension, intercession and reign, and the second advent, but none specially referring to the transfiguration. yet it contains many wonderful lessons we all need to know. we have felt, perhaps, that it was an experience peculiar to christ--with which we can have nothing to do--but the scriptures say otherwise; the word here rendered "transfigured" is the same as that translated "transformed" in romans xii. , "but be ye transfigured by the renewing of your minds," etc., and "changed," in cor. iii. , "are transfigured into the same image from glory to glory." we want so to look at the glory of jesus, that, at the same time, we may see his sorrow as well--and be "transfigured into the same image; for if we suffer with him, we shall also be glorified together." there is no man who understands the transfiguration like john ruskin. he says: "we are afraid to harbour in our own hearts, or to utter in the hearing of others, any thought of our lord as hungering, tired, or sorrowful, or having a human soul, a human will, and affected by the events of human life as a finite creature is: and yet one-half of the efficacy of his atonement and the whole of the efficacy of his example depend on his having been this to the full. consider therefore the transfiguration as it relates to the human feelings of our lord. it was the first definite preparation for his death.... what other hill could it have been than the southward slope of that goodly mountain, hermon, which is, indeed, the centre of all the promised land, from the entering in of hamath to the river of egypt; the mount of fruitfulness, from which the springs of jordan descended to the valleys of israel. along its mighty forest avenues, until the grass grew fair with the mountain lilies, his feet dashed with the dew of hermon, he must have gone to pray his first recorded prayer about death; and from the steep of it, before he knelt, could see, to the south, all the dwelling-places of the people that had sat in darkness, and seen the great light, the land of zabulon and of naphthali, galilee of the gentiles: could see even with his human sight, the gleam of that lake by capernaum and chorazin, and many a place loved by him and vainly ministered to, whose house was now left unto them desolate: and, chief of all, far in the utmost blue, the hills above nazareth, sloping down to his old home; hills on which the stones yet lay loose that had been taken up to cast at him, when he left them for ever. 'and as he prayed two men stood by him.'" "among the many ways in which we miss the help and hold of scripture, there is none more subtle than our habit of supposing that, even as man, christ was free from the fear of death. how could he then have been tempted as we are?--since among all the trials of the earth none spring from the dust more terrible than that of fear. it had to be borne by him ... and the presence of it is surely marked for us enough by the rising of those two at his side." it was christ's first preparation for death--and, therefore, to understand his transfiguration we must understand his crucifixion too; to see hermon, we must go to calvary; to discern how the fashion of his countenance was altered, we must witness that other time in the garden, when "his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down on the ground"; to fathom how the three disciples slept through the glory, we must remember how they slept through the sorrow too. the word rendered decease is a strange one. it is literally _exodus_--"going out." they spake of this exodus which he should accomplish at jerusalem. the same word occurs in the second epistle of peter: "i will endeavour that ye may be able after my exodus to have these things always in remembrance"; and it is worthy of notice that the verses which follow are a reminiscence of the transfiguration. we have conferences on many subjects--on peace, on holiness, on temperance: who ever heard of another conference (as this was) on _death_? a listener might have heard some such words as these:-- first moses might speak: "i, too, know what it is to want not to die. i did not fear the act of dying, but the manner--away out of the promised land. but when i saw the will of my god in all its beauty, then even this bitter disappointment seemed bearable, and the kiss of my god at the last made up for all. death is only a kiss to those who love god; and if i had not followed the will of my god in this, what had i not lost? i had missed burial at the hands of the sons of god, and my feet would not now be standing in his presence." then elias might say: "i had no fear of death: nay, i even prayed for it, saying, o lord, take away my life, for i am not better than my fathers. it was not death that i feared so much as the fashion of dying when i fled from the face of jezebel. but to-day i am thankful that my dying was not left to my choosing; if it had been so, i had missed the fiery chariot by which i climbed up to the presence of my king,--the swift seraphic march that brought me home." and then jesus might say, perhaps, something like these words-- i wish to have no wishes left, but to leave all to thee... and yet two wills i find in me when on my death i muse; but, lord, i have a death to die, and not a death to choose. then moses might speak again: "let us call god's providences by their sweetest names: death is not death to those who love god. thou, o sinless one, call it not death, call it exodus. it was my lot once to lead the people of god out of slavery and degradation, out of heavy labour, out of the furnace of iron; and yet methinks that will be the true exodus when thy people pass over, o lord, thy people, whom thou hast redeemed, when thou by thy dying lips dost proclaim deliverance to the captive, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; when, through the deep sea of thy sorrows, a passage is made by which the ransomed shall return. call it not death; call it an exodus--a mighty deliverance of the people of god." then elias: "o son of god, right well do i know that the strength of one man may be made the strength of many; and the triumph of many may spring from the victory of one. i myself have stood alone in the face of an opposing people; yet by the strength of god i came off conqueror, and many were persuaded to cry, 'the lord, he is god; the lord, he is god,' and the power yet remains in which i stood; it glows, and grows within thee; it floods the air; it streams down thy garments. fear not! thou shalt bring many souls, not merely to assent to the truth, but to the truth itself. and especially standing conqueror over death, thou shalt deliver them who were all their lives in bondage through the fear of the same. the love of god shall uphold thee; the strength of god be thine." then jesus: "in the volume of the book it is written of me, i delight to do thy will, o my god." then moses might continue: "death is our best friend--he strengthens our eyes to behold the glory which in the flesh it would blind us to see. once i was afraid to behold the glory of god. i stood in a cleft of the rock, covered, as he passed by--but now, now, i can bear to stand and gaze in the presence of my king." then elias would reply: "i too knew what it was to be afraid of his glory; in the mountain i wrapped my face in my mantle, but when his swift messengers came to bear me home, i cast my mantle behind, in token that i would never need it to shroud my face again. it is the same for thee--already that glory smites upon thy forehead, and gilds thy garments, and floods thy face with light, but beyond, beyond, thou shalt be crowned with glory and honour." and jesus would say, "thy will be done--thy will be done." then moses once more: "a mother has two kisses for her child: one, a daybreak kiss, wherewith she draws aside the curtains of the soul; and one a good-night kiss, sometimes given in the dark. "and so hath the eternal his two loves: the love in the light, which now encircles us; and the dark love on which our souls lean back to sleep. those who have felt god's daylight kiss can trust him for it in the dark. for thee to die will only be to lie back in the everlasting arms." then jesus: "father, into thy hands i commend my spirit." "and behold there talked with him two men, which were moses and elias, and they spake of his exodus which he should accomplish at jerusalem." viii christ will take all "all that the father giveth me shall come to me."--john vi. . if one were left to determine from our english bible the meaning of this passage, it would be difficult to avoid the admission that it gives countenance to that form of doctrine commonly known as calvinistic; for does it not present to us, in language sufficiently clear and obvious, the divine sovereignty as shown in electing grace? must we not admit that there are those who by a supreme deed of gift are allotted to the mercies of the son; over whom he exercises the care of a good shepherd; and is it not difficult to resist the conclusion that, as there are some who are the objects of special solicitude and care, so there are those who in some degree lie outside the sphere of the divine benevolence? again, if we were to look at the th verse of this same chapter, and read the words, "this is the father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me i should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day," should we not say that the natural meaning of the passage is that there is a doctrine of final perseverance, linked on to that of the election of grace, and a necessary corollary to it? but when we turn to the greek, we notice that in the first of the verses quoted the word _all_ is in the neuter gender, and so does not necessarily apply to persons at all, and we are more likely to catch the true meaning of the words by reading it as follows: "everything that the father hath given me shall come to me"; and in the other passage a similar correction must be made, as is otherwise evident from the last part of the passage, "i will raise _it_ up at the last day"; "of everything which the father hath given me i should lose nothing." viewed in this light, the words that were supposed to imply election teach consecration, and instead of final perseverance we read full possession. and this we do not say with any idea of refuting calvinistic doctrine, having no "isms" of our own and little time to spend in attacking those of other people. likely enough, our rendering of the words may be incorrect, and in any case we ought carefully to compare similar passages in the gospel; but be that as it may, the truth is not affected that the sovereignty of god and the love of god demand the full subjection and surrender of our being; and we are assured that where these conditions are fulfilled, the divine possession and protection become an intense and abiding reality. now, in confirmation of our rendering, we will examine the manner in which the passage is quoted by john bunyan; and certainly we may say that if there was a calvinistic meaning to be got out of a passage, john bunyan was not the man to miss it; and moreover, since he was totally ignorant of greek (and i suppose of latin, too, there being only, as far as i know, the solitary expression in the _pilgrim's progress_ "de carne et sanguine christi," accompanied by the marginal modesty, "the latin i borrow"), he is not likely to fall into the mistake to which we may be liable, of evading the plain meaning of words by reference to the original tongue. turning, then, to the _holy war_, we shall find the following, giving an account of terms proposed by diabolus for the surrender of the town of mansoul; the offer of submission being made through his ambassador, mr. loth-to-stoop. "then mr. loth-to-stoop said again, 'sir, behold the condescension of my master! he says that he will be content if he may but have some place assigned to him in mansoul as a place to live in privately, and you shall be lord of all the rest!' then said the golden prince, 'all that the father giveth me shall come to me, and of all that he giveth me i will lose nothing, no, not an hoof or an hair. i will not, therefore, grant him, no, not the least corner in mansoul to dwell in. i will have it all to myself.'" it is a little singular, to say the least, that he should have apprehended both the passages that we quoted in their right sense; and we had better attribute his accuracy to a touch of true inspiration. now, passing on from this point, we may think of the lord jesus in a twofold character:-- . as the receiver appointed to collect debts due to god. . as the almoner of gifts from god to men. he can come to us and say, "my father has appointed me the heir of all things; he has put his affairs into my hands, so that debts to him are debts to me; how much, therefore, owest thou to thy lord? for, all that the father giveth me shall come to me." he can come to us again and say, "the father hath given me authority over all flesh, that i should impart as well as exact; that i may give eternal life and eternal blessing, and holy ghost to as many as believe; that i should manifest his name to you, and give to you his word and his glory, and all things i have received of him; that i should give unto you rest and my own joy, and, by way of legacy in a will which the enemy cannot dispute, should leave peace with you; finally, ascending up on high, should send gifts to men, even to the rebellious, that the lord their god might dwell among them. for he that spared not his own son, but delivered him up for you all, how shall he not with him also freely give you all things. how much, therefore, hast thou received from thy lord?" and if we look at it rightly, he speaks but little of the dues, and much of the gifts; for god only exacts from us that he may be able to impart to us; there is no tyrant seated on the throne of the universe, but only a father waiting to give the holy spirit to them that ask him; and the uttermost farthing that he demands from us is only in order that he may have the right to save us to the uttermost, if we could but believe it. we may say next, that if our ultimate condition must be that of entire subjection and surrender to and harmony with the divine will, how sad it is that our consecration is so slow, so protracted, so ungracious; that we take so much time to reach the point where we are altogether the lord's. people can read the mystery of conversion in the parable of the dry bones in ezekiel; but there is consecration in the story, too. little by little we see the dead man coming into the place of blessing; bone to bone, sinew to sinew, nerve to nerve; and when there is the complete structure of a man, comes the vivifying breath from the four winds. not before, for god must have a man to quicken; he does not inspire skeletons or fragments; as at the first, when a man stands before him, he breathes into him the breath of life and he becomes a living soul. we may well be ashamed when we think of the way in which consecration to god is made. we are like the man who, because he was irritated at a claim made upon him for a sum of money, went and paid the bill in farthings. so we pay our dues to god, giving as little as we can, and taking as long about it as we list. perhaps it is because we treat him that way, that god is obliged to appear exacting and talk to us about uttermost farthings at all. perhaps we shall be right in concluding from the th verse, that there is something in the resurrection contingent on the consecration: "i will raise _it_ up at the last day"; of one thing we may be very sure, that the life to come is not only conterminous with but continuous with the life that is. death changes our surroundings but not our characters. there is no more breach of continuity in those than there is in an algebraical curve that goes to infinity. we may, indeed, get dying grace, and hold a consecration meeting upon our dying beds, but it is not death that consecrates, nor the grave that sanctifies and cleanses from all sin. we shall begin the next life pretty much where we left off in this. we were singing a little while ago-- let the veil become more thin, let the glory pierce between; but, mark you, that veil does not become more thin by pulling out a thread here and a thread there; remember how at the crucifixion the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; the veil that is on your heart will go like that, when the day comes for things to appear which now are numbered amongst things not seen as yet, and for you to apprehend and participate in the things which god has laid up for those who love him. ix strong crying "the energised prayer of a righteous man is of great force."--james v. . it is strange that we understand so little about prayer: with most people, including the greater part of the professedly religious, it is regarded simply as a sort of spiritual safety-valve, adapted to relieve the soul from strain and over-pressure; is any afflicted, they say, let him pray; and as for us, who are merry, we will sing psalms. now, if we were looking at a steam-engine, and meditating over the motive power of it, we should scarcely direct our thoughts to the safety-valve, or say of it, "what a mighty power is stored up in this little lever." on the contrary, our attention would be fixed on the piston and the steam at the back of it, and on the laws which govern its production, expansion, and condensation. and we need scarcely say that there is not much in common between those who regard prayer simply as an emotional safety-valve, and those who look upon it as one of the great moving forces of the spiritual world. it happens often enough that there are forces in the world of which people generally are ignorant, or of which they have an idea that is totally inadequate. as, for instance, we have known cynical politicians deride the expression of public opinion, as being only valuable as a political safety-valve, and useful to keep the "many-headed monster," the populace, from more dangerous courses; but not once or twice have they been awakened to find that there is nothing to stand before the rush of a well-formed public sentiment. so that we say rightly public opinion is of great force. and certainly the idea which the majority of folk attach to the word prayer is but very incommensurate to the part which it occupies, not only in the development of the life of the individual soul, but in the life and lot of the world at large. on the other hand, the force of prayer has been understood by the really spiritual writers of every school and of all time. they knew that prayer is one of the secrets of life; that he who lives, prays, and he who prays, lives; that he who prays works, and he who works prays; and so large a part of the spiritual life is comprised in the one word prayer, that we find them describing the soul's advance by the character of the prayer which springs from it. for instance, madame guyon, in her precious a b c of the spiritual life, introduces her book with the title, "a short and easy method of prayer"; st. theresa describes the degrees of the soul's progress as degrees of prayer, styling them prayer of quiet, prayer of union, and so on; st. john of the cross names his mystical way as the ascent of mount carmel, the meaning of which is evidently similar to the other. and so, no doubt one might give other instances, confining ourselves, of course, to the experimental christians only, and letting the divines and theologians alone. may we not say that our dear lord himself was careful enough both in example and teaching to lead his scholars along this way, making them aware that a great part of the soul's education was education in prayer? he began by making them feel that they really didn't know what prayer meant, though they had been taught to say prayers almost since they could speak. so he brings them to a point where they say, "lord, teach us to pray, as john also taught his disciples": encourages them further by admonitions to ask, seek, and knock; he tells them that if they ask for bread and fish, they won't get stones and snakes (but doesn't say that if you ask for a snake, your father will be so good as to give it to you); leads them on until they acquire the sense of the need of a larger faith; instructs them that prayer is the function of an organ of the spiritual life, and must be as constant and persistent as breathing or other natural functions, so that men ought always to pray and not to faint, and that they should keep awake at all times praying, if they are to be found worthy to stand before the son of man. finally, one of his last counsels, just before the last great objective teaching of his own life on the subject, connects the force of their prayer with the state of their life, saying, "if ye abide in me, ye shall ask what ye will and it shall be done unto you." now the verse which we quoted at the beginning speaks of certain prayers as of great force; we infer that there are weak prayers as well as strong ones--poor little wingless things that cannot rise into the celestial audience-chamber. hermas describes such when he says, "the prayer of a sad man has no power to climb to the altar of god." and it is of great importance that we should know the reasons which contribute to the strength or weakness of a prayer. on such points we shall find the apostle james to be an authority; for he was the great intercessor of the early church, the man of whom they said that his knees were worn hard like the knees of a camel. and being in addition the most practical of all the teachers, we shall find in his writing (in spite of the fact that luther called it an "epistle of straw") something far more valuable than a merely speculative theology. for instance, more than any one else, he supplies us with conditions for the success of that great experiment which we call prayer. prayer of the powerful, operative sort, has its conditions. we cannot disregard them. i have seen a man in the cavendish laboratory attempt to make a magnetic measurement in the immediate vicinity of some large iron pipes, and neither of us could tell the cause which made the apparatus behave so unreasonably. and prayers are often hindered in a similar way by unobserved disturbing causes. st. james supplies us with several hints:-- (i.) that a double-minded man need not expect to receive anything from the lord; a waverer, driven with the wind and tossed. (ii.) that ye ask and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts. (iii.) that it must be believing prayer, if it is to be effectual; let him ask in faith; the prayer of faith shall save the sick. (iv.) it is the prayer that springs from a rectified heart and life; the prayer of a righteous man is of great force. hermas, too, a christian father of the second century, whom we quoted before, supplies us with some suggestions. one would almost think, for some reasons, that he had been one of st. james's immediate disciples, for he is fond of using that same word double-minded (more exactly double-souled), speaks of visiting the orphans and widows, etc. thus we find in the ninth chapter of the book of commands as follows (the book being of a date immediately subsequent to the apostles): "he said unto me, put away from thee all double-mindedness, and have no more division of heart concerning petitions from god, saying in thyself, how shall i be able to ask and receive anything from the lord, having sinned so greatly against him? reason not on this wise, but turn to the lord with all thy heart, and ask from him without hesitation, and thou shalt know his large-heartedness, that he will certainly never leave thee, but will fulfil thy soul's request. god is not, as men are, mindful of wrongs done to him, but forgetful of them, and he hath compassion upon his workmanship. do thou, therefore, cleanse thy heart from all the vanities of this age, and from things spoken of before, and ask from the lord and thou shalt receive all things; and of all thy petitions thou shalt not fail of one, if thou ask of the lord with an unhesitating heart. but if thou doubtest in thy heart, thou shalt receive none of thy petitions. for they that are doubtful towards god, are the double-minded men, and they shall obtain none at all of their petitions. but they that are perfectly sound in the faith ask for all things in reliance upon the lord, and receive them, because they ask without hesitation and with no dividedness of heart. for every double-minded man, unless he repent, will scarcely be saved. cleanse, therefore, thy heart from double-mindedness, and put on faith, for she is mighty, and believe in god, that thou shalt receive all thy requests that thou dost make. and if ever when thou hast made request thou be somewhat longer in receiving thy petition from the lord, be not of a double-mind, that thou didst not swiftly receive thy soul's request, for certainly it is on account of some temptation or some sin that thou art longer in receiving thy petition. therefore, do not cease making thy request, and thou shalt receive it, but if thou faintest and art of doubtful mind in thy petition, blame thyself and not him who gives to thee." it amounts to this, that to have power in prayer is only possible as long as and in proportion as we walk with god. looking at it in another light, observe that real prayer is connected in a most intimate manner with the influences of the holy spirit. perhaps this is what is meant by the word rendered by us "energised," but "effectual and fervent" in the english version. certainly in almost every case where the word occurs, it has reference to the operation of god or the devil. and if this be so, the prayer must be a possessed prayer, and the praying man a possessed person, and so again we are brought face to face with the foundations of mighty prayer lying in a holy life. and what else is taught by the apostle when he says, "the spirit maketh intercession _in the saints_ according to the will of god"? x the sentinel of the heart "the peace of god, which exceeds all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in christ jesus."--phil. iv. . one of the best tests of the value of a religion, and of the degree of the truth enshrined therein, is found in the nature and permanence of the peace which it imparts. for it is a fact that all religions, or almost all, and especially those which have taken a wide grasp of the hearts and minds of men, profess to bring peace to the worshipper. the roman church, with its history unparalleled alike for saintliness or sin, with its offers to resolve all doubts and to forgive all iniquities, affords a haven and anchorage for those whose bark has been torn by the stormy winds of private judgment. it is not one or two who have been brought within her pale in search of peace; and, indeed, the bosom of mother church would be an attractive resting-place, if it did not strike us on the other hand as being too much like the effort of one baby to carry another of its own size. what is true of the roman church is true of the religion which has prevailed even more widely amongst the human race; if we ask the buddhist teachers what is offered to the inquiring soul in their sacred books, or what is revealed as possible in the experience of those men amongst them who have made the greatest progress in mind-and-spirit lore, they would talk to you of nirvana, or, as i think it was understood by them at the first, the extinction of the individual, even as a candle-flame is blown out. and however perverted their belief may have become, they seem in early days to have contemplated a real destruction of self,--the flame of self-love and self-life being so put out that it should never more be a flame, and should not long be a spark. for instance, their writings tell us such things as follow:-- "to him who has finished the path and passed beyond sorrow, who has freed himself on every side, and thrown away all fetters, there is no more fever of grief." "such an one remains like the broad earth unvexed; like the pillar of the city gate, unmoved; like a pellucid lake, unruffled." "tranquil is the mind, tranquil the words and the deeds, of him who is thus set at rest and made free by wisdom." "the heart, scrupulously avoiding all idle dissipation, diligently applying itself to the holy law of buddha, letting go all lust, and consequent disappointment, fixed and unchangeable, enters on nirvana." and so in many other features we may trace the doctrine of inward peace as taught in the buddhist religion. a similar feature is to be traced in the mohammedan faith, if we are right that islam means surrender to the will of god, and the mussulman a surrendered person; and certainly there have been those in the great religion of the east who held surrender in a higher sense than that of the fatalism which we generally attach to the words. now, when we speak of different religions as in the foregoing, it is not that we want to cultivate the science of comparative religious anatomy; all we want to say is this, that just as a very rough observation convinces us that corresponding organs in different creatures imply corresponding uses and similar needs, so we discern various methods of bringing peace to the soul of man in those religions which have to the greatest extent prevailed in the world. we are right to read these features carefully, for they are the watermarks of the absolute religion (which we believe the religion of jesus to be), which is to gather in the men of every tribe and kindred and nation, and to unite all the children of god who are scattered abroad. we are too much accustomed to look on these foreign religionists merely in the light of compassion, as people for whom we must send the missionary, make the regular collection and offer the periodic prayer; and we make maps of the world in which we paint in all the religions which differ from our own in black, or, if not in black, in other colours only for the sake of distinction. but, if we were wise, we should see that, where we paint black, it should be black with streaks of light; and we should learn, too, to see that our own faith would need, if accurately represented, to be a white colour checked and streaked with spots of the intensest black. for not all that is called christianity is of christ. we say, then, that one of the characteristics of the absolute religion is that it offers to the soul a real and permanent peace. here is a test for us: a real peace; it must not be based on deceptive methods: a permanent peace, which neither things present can disturb, nor life nor death dispel. and the lord jesus, who has spoken of the heart of man as never man spake, made this one of the keystones of his teaching, as it was the cornerstone of his living. "come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and i will rest you." "these things i have spoken unto you that in me ye might have peace." and thus we hear our blessed lord whispering to the world of to-day, a tired world from the first, but never so tired as now; through these lips comes god's answer to the cry of five hundred millions of buddhists, of the millions of islam, of the romanist, the mystic, the quaker--to all, in one breath, the message comes; yes, to me, even to me thou speakest when the word is of that hidden lasting peace which thou, lord jesus, canst bestow. and if it was a marvel that at pentecost every man should hear in his own language the wonderful works of god, much more is it a marvel to speak to all hearts than to speak with all tongues. and what is more than speech, even that which goes to the heart, is the action by which thou, lord, hast proved thy speech. thy life has given thee the right to speak of what thou givest as _thy_ peace. so quiet wast thou that, but for the wrong-doers that crossed thy path, thou wouldst have seemed to be passionless; yea, some have even spoken of thee as the "cold galilean," because of the marvellous rest of thy soul in thy father's arms. not only is it a test of the truth of a religion whether it imparts a real and permanent peace, but it is also a test of our attainment in the true religion, when we find it, for us to examine the depth and character of our peace. we determine the religion of jesus to be the absolute religion, because it imparts the highest peace in the manner most suited to the soul of man, and most consistent with the character of god. we verify our own position in the life by the simple test of the experience of peace which we enjoy. it is easy to be tranquil under certain circumstances; and there are times when most of us perceive the connection between quiet and holiness. but then circumstances change, and what becomes of the peace? drake and his men cross the isthmus of panama, and from a peak they see below them the smiling ocean on the farther side; so fair and still it looked that it received the name of the pacific ocean; but then there were two things to be noticed: first, it was a fine day; next, they probably thought the sea the smoother because of the height from which they surveyed it. and it is easy to talk of peace on fine days, and when we are high up above trouble; but our test must be when we are in the midst of the waters, when the waves thereof roar and are troubled. is it pacific ocean then; or do we find, as may be those early adventurers, that it was too hastily named? certain it is that many christians are disappointed because they do not always realise the peace and blessedness of which sometimes they have glimpses and enjoyment. it is our practical every-day test of our standing in grace; a man who is exploring an old well lowers a candle before him, knowing that where that can live, he can live; the christian's test-flame is the peace of god; when that fails, he ought to know that it is safe to go no farther. this peace is like some magic mirror, by the dimness growing on the surface of which we may discern the breath of an unclean spirit that would work us ill. as the apostle says, "let the peace of god rule (_i.e._ be arbiter or umpire) in your hearts." we may almost say that for most of us it is true that what we can do quietly we can do safely. so we see more and more the importance of having the heart and thought kept by the peace of god. some render the passage, "the peace of god shall stand sentry over your heart"; and this expresses it very well. where this sentry stands, nothing forbidden can pass either within or without, except the watcher be first destroyed. if the thirst for wealth or fame enter into a man's heart, it is over the slain body of the sentry; our peace is gone when these things enter in. and many such like things there are which choke the word and destroy the peace. then we turn and look at it in another light, passing on from thoughts concerning the peace of god to higher ones about the god of peace, who has promised to sanctify us wholly and to preserve spirit, soul, and body blameless unto the coming of our lord jesus christ. xi thy father in secret "alone, and yet not alone."--john xvi. . of all religious ideas, the grandest is that which lay at the root of the monastic system,--that religion is the wedlock of the soul to god; although the method in which this idea was exemplified was a faulty one, or, at any rate, one which rapidly became corrupt, even if it was not so at first. the wonderful worship of the middle ages at least taught men to serve god in retirement of life and unworldliness of spirit, and gave demonstration of holiness and righteousness in men who did their work in the world even though they lived out of it, and in women who were content to view the busy, jocular, combatant, pleasure-seeking community only from behind the bars of the house of rest that they had chosen. it was a noble object-lesson of the spiritual life; and though the symbols used to express it may have become valueless, the truth that they taught remains yet, that if a man or woman seeks the highest good, there must be for such an isolation of the soul from the ordinary course of life and thought in the world around us; we must afford ourselves facilities for a sacred loneliness with god. it is interesting to notice that st. luke, probably more than any other evangelist, gives record of solitariness and vigil and secret communion; and it may be that it was a line of experience with which he was familiar; certainly he was careful to chronicle the lonely hours of the saint when god and the soul are at one, and it needs no prophet to pray that the lord will open the young man's eyes that he may see. what a summary of experience is contained in those words which describe the ministerial preparation of john the baptist,--"he was in the desert until the day of his showing unto israel, waxing and growing strong in spirit" (luke i. ). then he speaks of the master, of his being led by the spirit into the wilderness (luke iv. ); of his departing and going into a desert place (luke iv. ); of his withdrawal into the wilderness for prayer (luke v. ); of his going out into a mountain to pray, and continuing all night in prayer to god (luke vi. ). would it not be better, instead of making the commonplace assertion that there was nothing of the ascetic about jesus christ, for us to recall to mind his teaching at another time, that every disciple shall be perfected as his master (luke vi. ), and to inquire whether we might not do well to love and covet retirement, even of an external character, as a means to the attainment of that perfection? retirement with god is the only preparation for success, and the only medicine for failure whether it be moses wondering at the burning bush in the mount of god, or elijah eating angel's bread under the juniper-tree. we shall do well to observe also that it has been a feature of all the great religions of the east; the secret of all strong souls lies in those times of loneliness when they were bound hand and foot as captives to the everlasting will. we deride such nowadays; call them mystic, contemplationist, fanatic. george fox, sitting about in lonely places, reading his bible in hollow trees, is hard to understand. but if it were anything but religion that was in quest, people would not laugh. tell them of demosthenes living in a cellar, with head half shaved to prevent his appearing in public, and there will be admiration; was it any wonder that he became an orator? but let a man be as bent on becoming a saint; let him give up one hour's frivolous talk in order to commune with his father in secret; then we suspect that such an one is becoming righteous overmuch. mind, no one complains of a man being anxious to be wise overmuch, or rich overmuch, healthy overmuch; he may burn the midnight oil and study, watch the markets and scheme, frequent the gymnasium and develop his muscle, and no one will find fault; but to spend time on what is at least as important as wisdom, wealth, and health, and in a sense involves them all,--this is fanatical, and not to be encouraged or approved. we miss much through our want of separation from the world, and through our deficiency in insulation, or, which is the same word, in isolation. if we go into a science laboratory and examine the great brass machines for holding electrical charges, we find that they are all mounted on glass feet. these are the insulators, and if it were not for them, no electricity would remain on the surface; as it is, electricity is hard enough to keep in charge, even with the best insulators. and we know sometimes what it is to have life and power pass into us from above, but we don't know how to retain it, because we have never learnt true retirement of heart and insulation of life. there is good teaching in the following passage from one of madame guyon's letters: "it is very desirable, and in the earlier part of your ministry especially, that you should spend a portion of your time--and that perhaps not a small portion--with god in retirement. let your own soul be first filled with god's spirit, and then and not otherwise will you be in a situation to communicate the divine fulness to others. no man can give what he has not; or if a man has grace, but has it in a small degree, he may in dispensing to others impart to them what is necessary for himself." now if any one were to ask what is the especial strength of england as regards other empires and commonwealths, the answer would be that it lies in her insular position,--in the "silver streak" that parts her from france; and the true christian is girt round with separating grace. we might draw two pictures to remind us how we may become strong for god: one of the solitary vigil of the great shepherd keeping watch over his flock by night; the other of the little company who waited with joined hands and hearts in the upper room for the coming of the comforter; these two pictures representing the solitude of a single soul and of united souls with god. by such silent communion god will especially prepare us for service and for suffering. some one spoke to john nelson, making unfavourable comparison of john wesley with a prominent religious teacher of the day; and nelson replied, "he has not stayed in the upper room like john wesley." we need our silent preparations for speech; to go forth, like ezekiel, into the plain to find the glory of the lord; or like daniel to the river-side, where we may meet one like unto the son of man; or like the two who walked into the country whom jesus met, and with whom he talked till he made their hearts burn. especial preparation of this kind is necessary for the prosecution of great enterprises. we are reminded of this if we observe what followed the all-night of prayer of the lord jesus,--how, when it was day, he called unto him his twelve apostles, and with them went down into the plain to heal diseases and them that were vexed with unclean spirits. napoleon leaves his army, as they near the russian frontier, and spurs his horse until at last in solitary contemplation he sees before him the river that separates him from the country that he is going to invade: a striking picture, made more so by the thought of the luckless termination of the enterprise. and some of us, whom god will call to great enterprises for him that will not end in failure, will know what it is to make a similar solitary advance; and in silent waiting upon god to watch him unroll before us the map of our journey, telling us what we must do and what we must suffer for him: and the silence makes us strong when the voice of god has broken in upon it. and we will not marvel if to us, as to saul of tarsus, the answer to the question, "what wilt thou have me to do?" should come in the form, "i will shew him how great things he must suffer"; for our thoughts will turn again to him who said, "rise and let us be going" from the solitude of the upper room to the deeper retirement of the olive grove; who went a little farther, even from those he loved most, as he prayed, "not my will but thine be done"; and then took his way alone, and yet not alone, to be the redeemer and reviver of the souls of men. xii tests of faith, love, and rightness what are the experimental bases of our christianity? and whereby shall we know that we are of the truth and assure our hearts before him? our answers to such questions may appear discouraging, but it is far better that we should experience discouragement (not that we would really wish to say a word to throw back the weakest believer from his faith), than that we should attempt to fill ourselves with the formulas that the pharisees do eat. some time ago, in discussing the definite points and peculiar characteristics of christian life and experiences, we took as a comparison the changes of state in a material body, from solid to liquid, and from liquid to gaseous. we observed that, just as in nature the most important practical and theoretical investigations were made upon bodies in the neighbourhood of those points where they undergo a change of state, so it is also true in the world of grace that our most valuable observations and inquiries relate to certain critical points in the life--as conversion and sanctification; points which may sometimes, like the freezing and boiling points of a material substance, approach almost, if not quite, to coincidence, but which, like them, may be very widely separated. suppose, then, to resume our figure, we were to propose to ourselves the question, "how shall i know whether a body near the melting point has passed from the solid to the liquid state?" in some cases it would be extremely easy to give an answer: with ice, under ordinary circumstances, we should simply say that it becomes mobile; the word of the supreme law having gone forth, the waters flow. but our test would not do for all liquids, because there are some that do not answer readily to it, but are extremely sluggish in the neighbourhood of their melting points, so that they seem almost solid even when liquid. we are obliged, then, to look for a better test, and we should probably observe that the most convenient would be found in the fact that an addition of heat produces a change in temperature in a body that has passed its melting point. place a thermometer in melting snow, it marks zero until the snow is really melted, and after that it rises. now, in a similar manner, we should find that many of the tests popularly applied to discriminate spiritual life, are only partially accurate; and since our method is a purely experimental one, we ought to see that we apply proper methods of inquiry in an accurate manner. our question, then, is, "whereby shall we know that we are of the truth?" and we shall probably look to scripture for an answer. indeed, there is a school which tells us positively that we must try the condition in which we are by the statements of scripture, holding up the word of life as a mirror before our lives, so that we may compare the reflection with the divine characteristics. and provided this method be honestly applied, and not by the mere selection of pet texts, it is probable that it is a correct one. we will, then, take the st epistle of john, in which we find the most definite assertions about personal experience, and try ourselves by it. first of all, there is the simple and beautiful statement, "beloved, now are we the children of god"; most of us would quote it freely; but our scientific method would at least require that we should harmonise the supposed fact with the asserted consequences, "therefore the world knoweth us not, even as it knew him not"; and if we find that the world smiles on us in a way that it did not upon our lord, then we must either conclude (i.) that we were mistaken in the fact, or (ii.) that while the word _we_ in the first part of the sentence is capable of extension, the _us_ in the second is restricted in its reference to st. john and the despised and rejected people with him--with, perhaps, a possible reference to subsequent isolated instances, down to the salvation army, and a few more in our own day! or, taking another simple assertion, "we know that we have passed (crossed over, transmigrated) from death unto life." we use the words to convince people of the definite nature of conversion; we say it is as real as a passage from death to life, and as truly marked; it is the advent of a new life in the soul. but can we honestly go on to base the assertion on the fact of our own love to men, to--souls? would we venture to stand or fall by this test, "i have loved, i love," and not be afraid that our good angels would rise up to bear witness against us as we said it? a third passage comes before us; for some one will say, "we believe, and is it not written that he that believeth hath everlasting life?" and may we not rest upon the assurance conveyed by the present tense of the verb employed? without going at present into the consideration of this passage from the gospel, let us say, roughly, that the test of the existence of a spiritual life presented by st. john in the epistle is of a threefold character: it is-- ([greek: alpha]) a test of faith: he that believeth that jesus is the christ is born of god. ([greek: beta]) a test of love: he that loveth is born of god. ([greek: gamma]) a test of righteousness: every one that doeth righteousness is born of him. and if these are true criteria of the life within us, each of these statements, with its necessary consequences, may be predicated of that soul in which the heavenly life has been brought forth. for instance: we must not take ([greek: alpha]) and reject ([greek: beta]) and ([greek: gamma]); nor must we disregard the consequences which are a necessary part of our experimental verifications. of these three passages we should most probably elect to be tried by ([greek: alpha]); for it is comparatively easy for us, especially at the present day, to hold to an intellectual assent to a proposition. in fact the difficulty is that the sieve is too wide; for almost every one believes that jesus is the christ. it must be evident then that we have misunderstood the text or omitted the consequences which follow from it. now the continuation of the statement is that whatsoever is in this holy birth has victory over the world; and if we apply the test of an overcoming life to our supposed faith, things look very different. discouraged, we pass on to the second criterion; if not by faith, let us be judged by love. since we all of us love something and some persons, we shall perhaps find ourselves safe under this test. but, upon examination, we perceive that he does not simply mean love of god, or love of jesus, or a merely selective human love; but love of the brethren and of the children of god in a universal manner. he twists it backwards and forwards, saying at one moment, "he that loveth god, let him love his brother also"; at another, "if he love not his brother whom he hath seen, how _can_ he love god whom he hath not seen"? and again, "by this we know that we love the children of god, when we love god," and, breaking off abruptly, "when we love god, and keep his commandments." certainly if love is universal and coincident with obedience, we shall scarcely be able to face this test. so we pass on to the third criterion--that of righteousness; and here, perhaps, we may expect some help, knowing how careful the lord is to judge us by the light we have, how generously he measures every effort after holiness, and blesses every pang of the spiritual hunger. we may not be able to grasp the creeds which others recite so fluently; we may not be able to give easy expression to the affections which thrill within us; may, perhaps, wonder if we love at all; but at least we can say this,--we want to be right. but then we are confronted with the difficulty that what god means is not that we should want to be right, but that we should be right. he explains and characterises the spiritual birth by the words of the apostle, "he that doeth righteousness is righteous even as christ is righteous." "he that is born of god doth not sin." "every one that is born of him sinneth not." it almost seems as if the apostle of love had been remetamorphosed into the son of thunder, and were calling down fire from heaven upon us to devour us. and do not let us say that this is merely st. john's extravagant way of preaching holiness; for it is the language in which the teachers of the time generally held and transmitted the christian doctrine. thus ignatius, writing to the ephesians, adopts the three tests of faith and love and righteousness: "no man professing the faith sinneth; nor does he who professeth love, hate; the tree is known by its fruits; so, likewise, those who profess to be christ's shall be seen from their deeds." and polycarp presents the life-criteria in the same manner: "you shall be built up in the faith which is given to you: before which is love to god and to christ and to the neighbour; for he who has love is far from all sin." and so we might multiply instances. what shall we then say: is a new sinai set up on the square of the new jerusalem? or is it a sense of good things not seen as yet that makes us cry, "search me, o god; ... and see if there be any lack of faith or love or righteousness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting"? xiii the eternal idea "see that thou make all things according to the pattern shewed thee in the mount."--heb. viii. . when we speak of a pattern, we generally understand by it some temporary or partial representation of an idea that is to be or has been realised--such as the plan of a house, or the mould of a casting, or, to take a more definite illustration, like the little silver models of the temple of diana at ephesus, or the carved wooden lions which are sold in the shops in the neighbourhood of the lion monument at lucerne. in these last two instances we see that the greater is made the pattern of the less; and it is important for us to remember this; we are not to suppose that god showed to moses a diminutive tabernacle, a sort of doll's house, in accordance with which he was to construct his house of skins, or that he impressed upon him the nature of the priestly and sacrificial worship by altars and offerings of a lower degree, of small quantities. it is more like what philo explained it to be, that the outer world is fashioned upon the model of the world of ideas whose centre is the divine word; or like swedenborg's doctrine of correspondence, by which we may learn cup, column, candlestick, all temporal things related royally, and patterns of what shall be in the mount. but, to get a more simple and exact idea, let us observe the means which those who have studied the heavens have taken to illustrate astronomical facts. there is an astronomical toy called the orrery, which can be made, by proper mechanism, to represent, with tolerable accuracy, the actual motions of the planets in their orbits, and which can serve to illustrate the phenomena which from time to time occur in the heavens. now the tabernacle of moses is precisely like this; it is a religious orrery, a means of representing religious truths and bringing home religious facts to the consciousness of those who are unable to study the skies and the lunar and planetary theories for themselves. but no one who wishes to be a real astronomer would be content with winding up the orrery and watching the balls go round; he would know that the heavens must be studied for themselves, if one was ever to understand them accurately: and no one who wishes to be more than moderately religious can remain satisfied with the meagre assistance obtained by ritual and externalism. we observe, too, that no one who wished to chronicle fresh facts would go to the orrery to learn them. he would, for instance, turn his spectroscope on the sun, and not on the great ball which represents it in the mechanism, if he wanted to determine the constituents of that great luminary. and let us remember that we shall never get at any fresh religious truth by means of ritual; the proper destination of all orreries, religious or otherwise, is the museum. but meanwhile the heavens still go round, which are the work of thy fingers; and the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained, can still be studied, even when all the imitations of the universe have been swept away. we desire for ourselves an emancipation from all that is merely traditional in the religious life; we would refer back our lives to the original thought of god concerning them. our life needs emendation, which can only take place satisfactorily by reference to the original design. we are often perplexed in our study of scripture, by various readings and incorrect texts, and we wish that we could attain to something like the possession of an exact copy, if it were only of a single gospel. we read of tischendorf finding the precious codex in the monastery on mount sinai, and cannot forbear wishing that, perhaps, in some of the waste places of the east, there might be found a copy, not of the fourth or fifth century, but, if possible, of the first. suppose, for example, that a copy of the gospel of st. matthew, signed with his own hand, should come into our possession, in which it should be stated that "i, matthew, sometime a tax-gatherer for the romans, and now a collector of dues for the almighty, and one of them that are set to ask, 'how much owest thou unto my lord?' have written this book, by the aid of the holy spirit; wherein may be heard many voices of the lord; and lo! some of them have already come to pass, and the rest must shortly be done. and may the peace of him that wrote this book abide also with them that read." the supposition is not so very absurd, and if it could be demonstrated to the satisfaction of the learned (a people hard to persuade) that the book and the hand were genuine, what a number of questions would be settled. an end would be made of all glosses and emendations of the text over which there have been so many disputes, and there would be an excision of all parts that have been added by later hands. but we must admit that the corruptions of the sacred text are insignificant in comparison with the deviations that we find in our own lives from the original thought of god concerning us. registered and chronicled in heaven is the mind and will of our father about us; registered and chronicled also are the defects which have marred the handiwork of god in the soul. we do not always set out with the intention of spoiling our souls, and of keeping them from being holy books, in which he that runs may read; but as a matter of fact what self writes in the margin soon creeps into the text; and what we write between the lines soon becomes a part of the manuscript. let who says the soul's a clean white paper, rather say a palimpsest, a prophet's holograph, defiled, erased, and covered by a monk's-- . . . . . . . we may discern perhaps some upstroke of an alpha and omega expressing the old scripture. but if we are to undergo a real emendation, it must be by detecting something more than an upstroke of the divine will; it must be by reference to the original plan of god, and by a surrender to the same. in the chapels at the back of the choir of cologne cathedral are preserved the original parchments on which are drawn the plan of the great minster. all the centuries through which this building has been raising, the men that have been working at it have had in reverence the original thoughts of the master-minds at the first: and those who have been chosen to the superintendence of the work have been men who were reckoned the most conversant with the laws of the gothic architecture. one can imagine that archbishop englebert sleeps the more softly in his silver shrine because of the completed work of to-day. so we speak and think of a great stone-temple, the working out of an idea whose details were at first but scantily given, carried out in ages during which the master-minds that planned it could no more be consulted. and yet when a greater and more perfect tabernacle is in building, not planned of mortal thought, and whose stones were too heavy to be moved by mortal hands, how little reference there is to the plan of the founder, how few that are desirous of living according to the counsel and will of god, and to see in that will, not a mere legal skeleton of the structure, but a pattern, good and acceptable and perfect, with no detail wanting for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. alas! that our lives should be lived so much at random instead of being so fashioned that it might be said over the completed structure at the last, "whose architect and craftsman is god." in christianity the ideal is to be the actual: there is to be no "shooting at the moon, because by that means you reach higher than by aiming at a tree" (a very doubtful statement even in mechanics); what god wants us to be that we must be; and if he says, "be ye perfect," then let us go on to perfection and reach it. the christian is called upon by his master to live out and actualise god's ideal thought concerning him. upon the map of his life is already marked out the road by which he is to reach the heavenly city; if, at least, he reaches it, as god intends, by the shortest way. there are no roundabout roads marked on the map in the mount, and yet the divine plan of our life will be found inclusive of the minutest necessary details, just as an ordnance map will tell you each feature of interest and importance as you go from place to place. it is of the utmost importance that we should take counsel's opinion about our lives, and that we should pray, "lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" that we should, if need be, weep much, until the lamb shall take off the seals from that book of life, which, in the archives of the celestial city, is entitled "the life of ---- taken from the pattern in the mount"; that we should learn to conform ourselves to the divine original, just as a manuscript, however deformed by glosses and traditions, is accurately and certainly emended by the discovery of the original text; that we should know, in some sense, as christ did, whence we come and whither we go; that, as he said, we also might feel that for this end we were born and for this purpose we came into the world, that we might bear witness to the truth; that, with him, too, we might in some measure be able to say, "the son can do nothing but what he seeth the father do"; and that at our ending it might be said, "he lived out the secret thought and counsel of the almighty." but in thinking of the pattern in the mount as a pattern of life, it is important for us to see that, in the first instance, this thought was presented to us in connection with that side of life which we call worship; for there was to be a sanctuary made, etc., nor must we omit to get, with regard to our worship, a glimpse into the thought of god beforehand, consulting the oracle in advance as did men in the old days. we may not take voyage without the very best map that can be had, lest we make shipwreck; nor, because we have not taken pains to obtain the map, may we content ourselves with creeping round shores that we know we ought to leave. we must not separate the life from the worship; in fact they are one: we learn that from the description of the ceaseless adoration of those nearest the throne; they rest not day nor night saying, "holy, holy, holy." are we to suppose from this that their existence is occupied in the mere repetition of an everlasting trisagion; or that, as beecher once said, "they stand like wax candles round the throne, uttering an occasional hallelujah"? is it not rather god's way of showing us how he is unceasingly glorified in those who live nearest him, whose lives worship him? the worship must be continuous with the life. i have a thermometer which has become perfectly useless because the air has broken up the continuity of the alcohol; it is worth next to nothing as an index of temperature. and little can we learn from any soul in which the continuity of the religious life is broken, and which has become life streaked with worship. now let us learn one or two of the characteristics of a pure life-worship. out of the worship according to the pattern in the mount all respectability has been differentiated: the christian religion will not hold caste in solution; it precipitates it to the bottom; its founder died the death of a slave; how could they give the slave a back seat after that? on the contrary, they gloried in the name; paul, a slave and an apostle; a slave, and so eligible for the honour of crucifixion; an apostle, and so sent with the good news of life. respect of persons holds not in heaven; none there will criticise the clay out of which the first raiment of your soul was made. what need is there, then, that we should leave off holding the faith of our lord jesus, with respect of persons (there are few churches where the ministers dare to preach on such a text as that). let us have done with such classifications. in jesus christ there is neither barbarian nor scythian, bond nor free, town nor university, but christ is all, and in all. we know, too, that the life-worship to which god calls us consists in abandonment and surrender to an animating, impelling spirit. "the spirit of the lord will come upon thee, and thou shalt prophesy, and thou shalt be turned into another man. and it shall be, when these signs are come upon thee, that thou shalt do as occasion serve thee, for the lord is with thee." "whither the spirit was to go, thither was their spirit to go." the highest life is one in which we realise not merely surrender to the divine will, but harmony with it, so that the rails on which the life moves, the human and divine wills, become strictly parallel. a surrendered life implies surrendered lips: this is the key of true worship; every one having a psalm, an interpretation; ye may all of you prophesy. the ideal worship becomes the actual when heaven touches earth, as on the day of pentecost--they were all filled, and, by consequence, they all ran over. who would venture to tell the woman who had been a sinner, that it was not seemly that her life should proclaim the _magnolia dei_, the wonders of god; my lips, she says, have touched his feet, and are consecrated for evermore. who shall tell these prophesying handmaidens of the lord that their place is in a different spiritual order: "are there two inner courts, they will reply, to the new jerusalem?" whoso hath felt the spirit of the highest cannot confound nor doubt him, nor deny; yea, with one voice, o world, though thou deniest, stand thou on that side, for on this am i. xiv more light "ye are the light of the world."--matt. v. . there is a great stir nowadays about improved methods of lighting our streets and houses. men began with torches and pine splinters; then they advanced to candles and oil lamps; after that to coal gas; and now we are coming to electricity. in paris they are experimenting with an electrical system, and we shall have it in england before long, the unmistakable cry of the natural world being "more light, more light." a similar experience prevails in the spiritual life, whether we regard that life in the isolated individual, or fix our attention upon the dealings of god with the race of which we form a part. we need, in fact, an improved illumination. it is plain that we do so. the light of moses is not enough for us. his face shines indeed, but with a glory that fades away, so that he must put on a veil lest they should detect its evanescence. the prophets of old days are like the flight of meteors across the sky--very bright while they last, but no settled and abiding glory. john the baptist is a burning and a shining lamp; but he says of himself, "i must decrease"; and with the words, "he must increase," we are pointed on to christ, the true light of the world, which if any man follow he shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life; who gives his own name and character to those whom he receives as disciples, telling them, "let your light shine." and the individual soul begins with the glimmer of grace and the spark of a respondent love, and the operation of the lord improves this little fitful glimmer, and develops it, until it becomes a clear and strong illumination, by which we may read something of the heart of god towards us, and understand that in the spiritual world, as in the natural, the order of this providence is, "more light, more light." light, that we may know our way more accurately; light, by which we may work; light, by which we may read; light, by which we may help others to walk and work and read; for "ye are the light of the world, and 'heaven doth with us, as we with torches do, not light them for themselves.'" god makes one man a lamp for another. every saint should be like a cranny in the walls of heaven or translucent crystal in its foundations, letting the glory through. there is a glory within such a one, because god has shined in his heart: there is a glory without him, for the spirit of glory and of god resteth upon him. not once nor twice has the church historian to record, "they beheld his face, as it had been the face of an angel." now in any improved system of illumination we have a right to expect that one of its characteristics will be its capability for a general application. it must not be as great a blaze as one's eyes can bear in the principal thoroughfares, with thick darkness in the back streets and lanes. the improved light must become more sun-like, more catholic, that is, more for everybody, must rise upon just and unjust; and while it participates in the universality of the sun, it must share also the steadiness of the stars. such, too, must be the better life to which god calls us, not narrowing its sphere from day to day, nor fitful, like a star of the first magnitude at one moment and of the ninth a fortnight after, but burning with a steady patient zeal towards all men that god has made. the light of love will survive the light of enthusiasm, as christ outlasts john the baptist; enthusiasm must be swallowed up of love. a lighted lamp is no respecter of persons; it shines in all directions and upon all people and things, being an imitation, within its measure, of the sun, concerning whom it is said, "there is nothing hid from the heat thereof." is there this property of radiation about the light that god has given you? have you learnt and practically entered into the truth that the supreme love is also the universal love, and that god is no respecter of persons? "it gives light unto all that are in the house": every soul truly won for god is marked with this token, "for the sake of god and a perishing world." but perhaps you will say, "my light is so small that i cannot be a help or a witness to any; i have not light enough to show any the right way." not so: a glow-worm in the hedge can tell a man which way to walk, if it will only shine. we may not all of us have the privilege of saying with john wesley, "the world is my parish." our parish may be small, and we may be lights indoors, shining for only one neglected soul in the house, or for young ones who have to be trained for the lord, or for the men on our own staircase in college, or with whom we walk in afternoons. they say the problem about the electric light is the difficulty of its subdivision, that is, of its multiplication; and in the spiritual world the corresponding necessity is to multiply and reproduce the image of god in jesus christ. there was a similar difficulty in the early days of photography; they could take one picture, but did not know how to produce copies from it. the christian religion has in it the means of producing not only one light of the world but many--a church of men and women of whom it may be said, as to the disciples at the first, "ye are the light of the world." but will something within us object and say, "shining means burning up and burning out: the candle will grow shorter, and the battery weaker"? now here we get at the root of the matter. truly it is impossible to offer any real devotion to god, or perform any real service to man, unless we are willing to pay the cost. we are not to offer, either to god or man, of that which costs us nothing. the noblest thing in god's world is a lavished life; whereof god has given us plain proof in this--that "he so loved the world that he gave his son"; and which paul confirms as he says to some of those to whom he had been the means of bringing light, "i will most gladly spend and be spent for you." "i will burn up for you, and then when i am burnt out, i will be content with the mere candle-end of a life, extinct for the love of jesus." and let us remember, too, that old proverb, that "you can't burn a candle at both ends." if our life has been lighted at one end for god, we must not burn it at the other for selfish enjoyments and ambitions. the work that god has called you to do is a burner that will take all the gas that you can supply. now suppose that every time a candle is lighted here, a star were to shine out up yonder. how eager we should all be to make the face of heaven sparkle! we should take every candle and lamp that we could lay hands on, light them up, and watch for the gleaming of the new wonder in the sky. does that seem strange? did you never read that "they that are wise shall shine as the sun, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever"? the lamps and candles in god's world do become suns and stars; the illumination that you will have by and by will depend on the little candle that you are to-day; and if you curtail your service for god and man down here, you will clip the wings and shear away the strength of the angel that you hope to be. o lord, that i could waste my life for others, with no ends of my own! that i could pour myself into my brothers, and live for them alone! xv over-overcoming "we are more than conquerors."--romans viii. . the apostle coins a word to suit his experience. we should render it exactly by saying, "in these things we over-conquer," imitating the formation of similar words in our language, such as "over-master," "over-do." more forcibly we might say, "in all these things we over-overcome." coverdale gives the sense of it well in his translation, "we conquer far." observe some of the ways in which this excess and extravagance of victory may take place, for it is as if one should win a victory over a foe in such a way as to prevent him from ever troubling us again. our conquest over special sin is to be of this character. we are not to be content with winning the field while the foe retires to some more secure position from which he will have to be dislodged. it is never meant that we should sin the same sin twice, the lord's purpose concerning us being shown in the exodus of the children of israel: "the egyptians which ye see to-day, ye shall see them no more again for ever." "let him that stole steal no more." "neither do i condemn thee, go and sin no more." there is a passage in miss havergal's life which narrates how, after having been angry with a servant, the word of comfort came to her through a friend: "perhaps this may be the last time that you will ever be so overcome." and then our victories are to leave us stronger than before. this will seem quite contrary to the order of nature, in which seldom is there a battle without garments rolled in blood, and where the victory often costs as much to the victors as to the vanquished. a great general has said that nothing is half so terrible as a battle lost, except a battle gained. but to be more than conquerors! to rise the stronger for the strife even while we strive! this is what is involved in the christian song of jubilee in the eighth of romans. we over-overcome because of the completeness of the victory. in most campaigns it is by the balance of battles fought that the war is decided. seldom does it happen that all the victory is on one side: and even then there will be virgin fortresses that never have been stormed, over which no alien flag has ever floated, which may be yielded indeed by treaty, but not taken by force. the over-conquering christian can say with the invading israelites, "there was not one city too strong for us: the lord god delivered all unto us." and in the strength of this i rode.... . . . . . . . . and brake through all, and in the strength of this come victor. the triumphant scenes of the apocalypse are not all future; but even now we know something of living and reigning with christ in a fellowship above sin and above sorrow. for it was of sorrow rather than of sin that the apostle was speaking. our principle is one of holy indifference--an experience far removed from mere apathy. we do not simply say with buddha that sorrow drops off from him who has finished the path, as water drops from a lotus leaf. we are not sure whether the sorrows always do disappear from the burdened life like that. but when they do not so pass away, the drop is turned to honey in the cup of the flower; it is really the richer for its burden, and so may well be content. and now how do we come to this place of triumph? by what means is it granted us to enter so fully into the songs which shall one day resound through the universe? "through him that loved us." it is alliance with god that is the secret. the three steps of the mystics are _purification_, _illumination_, and _union_; and simple as the statement is, it is a better theology than many another of much larger dimensions. many people do not understand this alliance in which we are led into union with god, through the holy spirit. they think it is more like the old story of the dwarf and the giant, who went a warfare together, in which expedition the dwarf lost his arms and legs, and was only saved from imminent death in each conflict by the happy arrival of the giant. one can scarcely blame the dwarf for breaking up the partnership. we must understand that in christianity the dwarf is the giant, that the despised deformed puny child of faith is, when he recognises his own weakness and leans upon his own god, big with the force that rolls the stars along. the might of god is in him: and though he may have no armour nor sword to match the philistine, he will come home carrying his head for all that; for man's weakness leaning upon god, its end can never miss. the end the devotional library . the key of the grave. a book for the bereaved. by w. robertson nicoll, m.a., ll.d. . memoranda sacra. by professor j. rendel harris, m.a., fellow of clare college, cambridge. studies in mysticism and certain aspects of the secret tradition. by arthur edward waite. little books on religion. edited by the rev. w. robertson nicoll, ll.d. . christ and the future life. by r. w. dale, ll.d. . the seven words from the cross. by the rev. w. robertson nicoll, ll.d. . the visions of a prophet. studies in zechariah. by the rev. professor marcus dods, d.d. . the four temperaments. by the rev. alexander whyte, d.d. . the upper room. by the rev. john watson, m.a., d.d. works by the rev. j. r. miller, d.d. a message for the day. a year's daily readings. dr. j. r. miller's new year booklets. . secrets of a happy home life. . the blessing of cheerfulness. dr. miller's "silent times" series. . making the most of life. . the every-day of life. . secrets of a beautiful life. . silent times. . week-day religion. works by dr. james stalker. the trial and death of jesus christ. a devotional history of our lord's passion. by james stalker, m.a., d.d. imago christi. the example of christ. the four men. the preacher and his models. yale lectures on preaching london: hodder and stoughton. quiet talks on following the christ by s. d. gordon author of "_quiet talks on power_," "_quiet talks on prayer_," "_quiet talks on our lord's return_," etc. new york chicago toronto fleming h. revell company london and edinburgh copyright, , by fleming h. revell company new york: fifth avenue chicago: north wabash ave. toronto: richmond street, w. london: paternoster square edinburgh: princes street contents introduction i. the lone man who went before ii. the long, rough road he trod iii. the pleading call to follow iv. what following means . a look ahead . the main road . the valleys . the hilltops v. shall we go? vi. finger-posts vii. fellow-followers viii. the glory of the goal,--face to face introduction these talks have been given, in substance, at various gatherings in great britain, continental europe, and parts of the far east, during the past four years. the simple directness of the spoken word has been allowed to stand. portions of chapters three, four, six, and eight have appeared at various times in "the sunday school times." if any who read may find some practical help through the master's gracious touch upon these simple words, they are earnestly asked to add their prayers that that same gracious touch may be felt by others wherever these talks may go. the lone man who went before a call to friendship. one day i watched two young men, a japanese and an american, pacing the deck of a japanese liner bound for san francisco. their heads were close together and bent down, and they were talking earnestly. the japanese was saying, "oh, yes, i believe all that as a theory, but is there _power_ to make a man _live_ it?" he was an officer of the ship, one of the finest boats on the pacific. the american was a young fellow who had gone out to japan as a government teacher, and when his earnest sort of christianity led to his dismissal he remained, and still remains, as a volunteer missionary. with his rare gift in personal touch he had won the young officer's confidence, and was explaining what christianity stood for, when the japanese politely interrupted him with his question about power. the tense eagerness of his manner and voice let one see the hunger of his heart. he had high ideals of life, but confessed that every time he was in port, the shore temptations proved too much, and he always came back on board with a feeling of bitter defeat. he had read about christianity and believed it good in theory. but he knew nothing of its power. through his new american friend he came into personal touch with christ, then and there. and up to the day we docked he put in his spare time bringing other japanese to his friend's stateroom, and there more than one of them knelt, and came into warm touch of heart with the lord jesus. just so our lord jesus draws men, oriental and occidental alike. just so he drew men when he was down here. he had great drawing power. men came eagerly wherever they could find him. he drew all sorts of men. he drew the jews, to whom he belonged racially. he drew the aggressive, domineering romans, and the gentler cultured greeks. he drew the half-breed samaritans, who were despised by both jew and foreigner, as not being either one thing or the other. the military men and the civilians, the cultured and the unlettered, the official class and those in private life, all alike felt the strong pull upon their hearts of his presence. the pure of heart, like gentle mary of bethany, and the guileless nathanael, were drawn to him. and the very opposite, those openly bad in their life, couldn't resist his presence, and the call away from their low, bad level, but eagerly took his hand and came up. fisherfolk and farmers, dwellers in the city and country, scholars and tradesmen, crude and refined, richly clad and ragged,--all sorts contentedly rubbed elbows and jostled each other in the crowds that came to listen, and stayed to listen longer, and then went away to come back again for more. this was why he came--to draw men to himself. our lord jesus was the face of god looking longingly into men's faces. and they couldn't withstand the appeal of that gentle strong face. he was the voice of god talking into men's ears; and the music of that low, quiet voice thrilled and thralled their hearts. he was the hand of god, strong and warm, reaching down to take men by the hand and give them a strong lift up and back to the old eden life. and, in time, as men put their hand in his, they came to feel the little knotted place in the palm of that outstretched hand, and the feel of it went strangely into their inmost being. he was the heart of god, tender and true, beating rhythmically in time and tune with the human heart. and the music had, and has, strange power of appeal to human hearts, and power to sway human lives like a great wind in the trees. our lord jesus was the person of god in human shape and human garb, come down close, to draw us men back again to the old trysting place under the tree of life. and in every generation, and every corner of the earth, then, and ever since then, men of every colour and sort have come back, and found how his presence eases the tug of life on many a steep roadway, and more, much more.[ ] and our lord jesus drew men into personal friendship with himself. he didn't like the long range way of doing things. keeping men at arm's length never suited him. he gave the inner heart touch, and he longed for the touch of the innermost heart. he was our friend. he asked that we be his friends, real friends of the rare sort, of which one's life has only a few. and he asked, too, that all else that we brought to him should be that which grew out of this personal friendship. he gave and did all that he did and gave, because he was our friend. he asked only for what grew out of a real heart friendship with himself. he longed to have us give all, yet only what our hearts couldn't hold back. his friendship has one thing peculiar to itself. he has no favourites, in our common thought of that word, among the countless numbers who have come to be included in his inner circle of friends. yet he gives to each such a distinctive personal touch of his own heart that you feel yourself to be on closest terms. he is nearer and closer than any other, and your longing is to be as near and close to him in life as he is to you in his heart.[ ] now, because we are his friends and he is our friend, he calls us to follow him. it is a privilege of friendship. he would share with you and with me the things of his own heart and life. he wants to have us come close up to himself, and live close up. and the only way we can do it is by giving a glad "yes" to his invitation, and following so close that we shall be up to himself. nothing less than this contents his longing. but there is more than friendship here. he has a plan of action in his heart. it is a wide-reaching plan, clear beyond our idea of what wide-reaching means. it is nothing less than a plan for the whole world, the entire race, for winning it up to the old eden life of purity and of close walking with god. that plan is the passion of his great heart. he has held nothing back--spared nothing--that it might be done. he is thinking of that plan as he comes eagerly to you and me, now, all afresh, and with his heart in his voice says "follow me." this is a bit of his plan for me and for you--that we shall be partners with him in his plan for the world. and yet--and yet--this helping him, this partnership, this working with him in his plan, is to be because of our friendship, his and mine, his and yours. it is a more than friendship he is thinking of. but that more is _through_ the friendship. it grows out of the friendship. only so does it work out his real plan. climbing the hilltops. now this "follow me" of his, if taken into one's life, and followed up, will come to mean two things. there are two great things that stand sharply out in our lord jesus' life down here, his _characteristics_ and his _experiences_. i mean what he was in himself; and what he went through, suffered, enjoyed, and accomplished; the man himself, and the man's experiences. these are the two things about which these simple talks will be grouped. our lord jesus wants us to follow that we may climb up the hill as high as he did in these things. following means climbing. a friend has told recently of a journey taken to a certain village in new england from which, she had been told, a fine view could be got of the white mountains. on arrival it seemed that a low hill completely shut out the view, to her intense disappointment. but her companion, by and by, called from the top of the low hill and eagerly beckoned her to come up. a bit of climbing quickly brought her to where the magnificent beauty of the mountains broke upon her delighted eyes. our lord jesus climbed the hilltops, both in his character and in his experiences. he wants us to share those rare hilltops with him. he has gone away ahead of any other. he is the lone man in both character and experiences. and in some of his experiences he will ever remain the lone occupant of the hilltop. but he is eager for our companionship. he longs for the personal touch. he wants us to have all he has got. he has blazed a way through the thicket where there was no path before. he left the plain marks on the trees as he went through, so we could surely find the way. and now he eagerly beckons us to follow. but following means climbing. it's a hill road, sometimes down hill, sometimes up hill. which makes stiffer climbing? usually the one you are doing seems the harder. sometimes the road is a dead level between hills. and dead level walking--the monotonous dead-a-way, with no bracing air, no inspiring outlook--is often much harder than down hill or up. and so it too is climbing. following means climbing. he climbed. he made the high climb all alone. no other ever had the courage to climb so high as he. it's easier since he has smoothed down the road with his own feet; yet it isn't easy; still it is easier than not climbing; that is, when you reckon the whole thing up--with _him_ in. now he asks you and me to climb. he cannot climb for you. that is, i mean he cannot do the climbing you ought to do. he has climbed for us, marked out the hill path, and made it possible for us to climb up too. but the after-climbing he cannot do for us. each must do his own climbing. so lungs grow deeper, and heart-action stronger, and cheeks clearer, and muscles firmer. step by step we must pull up, maybe through a fog, with no view of beauty, no bracing air yet, only his strong beckoning hand. but those who reach up and get hold of hands with him, and get up even to some of the lower reaches of the climb, stand with full hearts and dumb lips. they can't find words to tell the exhilaration of the climb, the bracing air, the far outlook, and, yet more, the wondrous presence of the chief climber, even though there's a bit of smarting of face and hands where the thorny tanglewood tore a bit as you went by. just now i want you to come with me for a bit of a look at the lone man, who has gone before. i mean at the man himself. we want to take a look at the characteristics of his life; what the man was in his character. and please understand me here. following does not mean that we are to try to imitate these characteristics. no, it's something both simpler and easier, and deeper and better than that. it means that, as we companion with him daily, these same traits will appear in us. it is not to be imitation simply, good as that might seem, yet always bringing a sense of failure, and that sense the thing you remember most. it is to be some one living his life in you, coming in through the open door of your will. your part is opening up, and keeping open, listening and loving and obeying. the touchstone of the "follow me" life is not imitation but following; not copying but obeying; not struggle--though there will be struggle--but companionship, a companionship which nothing is allowed to take the fine edge off of. and please remember, too, the meaning for us sinful men of these characteristics of his. with us character is a result of choice, and then nearly always--or should i cut out that "nearly"? the earnest man in the thick of the fight finds no "nearlys"--it's always with him--character is always the result of a fight to keep to the choice decided upon. now with greatest reverence for our lord jesus, let me say, _it was so with him_. he was as truly god as though not man. yet he lived his life,--he insisted on living his life, on the human level.[ ] he was as truly human as though not peculiarly divine. he had the enormous advantage of a virgin birth, a divine fatherhood with a human motherhood. and, be it said with utmost reverence, he needed that advantage for the terrific conflict and the tremendous task of his life, such as no other has known. but his character as a man--the thing we are to look at now--was a result of choice, and choice insisted upon against terrible odds. this gives new meaning to his "follow me." he went the same sort of road that we must go. he insisted on treading _our_ road. it was not one made easier for his specially prepared feet. it was the common earth road every man must go, who will. and so the way he went we can go if we will, every step of it. by his help working through our wills, we _can_, and, please god, surely we will. the dependent life. there were _three traits in his character upward_, that is in his relation with his father. first of all he chose to live _the dependent life_. he recognized that everything he was, and had, and could do, was received from the father, and could be at its true best only as the father's direct touch was upon it. this was the atmosphere in which all his human powers would do their best. he had nothing of himself, and could do nothing of himself. this is the plan the father has made for human life and effort.[ ] our lord jesus recognized this and lived it. our common word for this is humility. humility is a matter of relationship. it means keeping one's relationship with the father clear and dominant. and this in turn radically affects and controls our relationship with our fellows. there were three degrees or steps in the dependent life he chose to live. there was the giving up part, then the accepting for himself the plan of human life, and then accepting it even to the extent of yielding to wrong and shameful treatment, without attempting to assert his rights against such treatment. these were the three steps in his humility. in paul's striking phrase, he "emptied out" of himself all he had in glory with the father before coming to the earth; he decided to come to the human level and live fully the human life of utter dependence; and he carried this to the extent of being wholly dependent on the father for righting the wrongs done him.[ ] this is god's plan for the human life. it is to be a dependent life. it actually is a dependent life, utterly dependent upon him. it is to be lived so. then only is the fragrance of it gotten. it is part of the dependent life--the true human life--that we depend on the father for vindication when wronged, as for everything else.[ ] our lord jesus chose to live this life. there was an entire absence of the self-spirit, that is the self-assertive, the self-confident spirit. there was a remarkable confidence in action, but it was confidence in his father's unfailing response to his requests or needs. this sense of utter dependence was natural to him; as indeed it is natural to man unhurt by sin. and then he carefully cultivated it. as he came in contact with the very opposite all around him, he set himself--indeed he had to set himself--to keeping this sense of dependence untainted, unhurt by his surroundings. now there were three things which naturally grew out of this dependent life, or which naturally are part of it. one was, the sense of his father, and of his father's presence. in a perfectly simple natural way, he was always conscious of his father's presence. is this the meaning--one meaning--of "blessed are the pure in heart for they shall _see god_"? and then he doubtless set himself to cultivate this, as an offset to what he found around him. he would quietly look up and speak to the father in the midst of a crowd.[ ] this was the natural thing to do. he was more conscious of the father's presence than of the crowd pressing in to get near. when he was speaking to the crowd he knew the father too was listening. he felt the father watching as he helped the people. this was the natural thing with him, the presence of the father. with this there went a second thing, the habit of getting alone to talk things over with the father. the common word for this is prayer. without doubt his whole outer life grew out of his inner secret talking things out with the father. everything was passed in review here, first of all. this naturally grew out of the consciousness of his father's presence, and this in turn increased that consciousness. so he was in the habit of looking at everything through his father's eyes. and with these two, there was plainly a third thing, a settled sense of the power, the authority, of god's written word. it was not simply that he did not question it, but there was a deep-rooted sense grown down into his very being that god was speaking in the book, and that this revelation of himself and his will was _the thing_ to govern absolutely one's life. this points back to a study of the book. doubtless that nazareth shop was a study shop too. he quoted readily and freely from all portions of the old testament bible. he seemed saturated with both its language and its spirit. the basis of such familiarity would be long, painstaking, prayerful study. these three things naturally grew out of the dependent life he had deliberately chosen to live and were a part of it. they were necessary to it. these are the lungs and the heart of the dependent life. now his "follow me" does not mean merely that we try to imitate him in all this. we will naturally long to do so. and he is the example we will ever be eager to follow. but the meaning goes deeper than this. it means that as we really come close up in the road behind him this will come to be the natural atmosphere of our lives. we let _him_ in, and his presence within, yielded to and cultivated and obeyed, will work this sort of thing out in our lives. we will come to recognize, and then to feel deep down in our spirit, how dependent we are upon him in everything. we will gradually come to realize intensely that the dependent life is the true natural life. it is god's plan. it reveals wondrously his love. it draws out wondrously our love, and radically changes the whole spirit of the life. poor--except in spirit. now of course all this is in sharpest contrast to the common spirit of life as men live, then and now. the spirit that dominates human life everywhere is a spirit of independence. and this seems intensified in our day to a terrific degree. there is, of course, a good independence in our dealings with our fellows. but this is carried to the extreme of independence of every one, even--say it softly--of god himself. criticising god, ignoring him, leaving him severely out so far as we are concerned,--this has become the commonplace. if for a moment he ignored us, how quickly things would go to pieces! this has come to be the dominant spirit of the whole race to a degree more marked than ever before, if that be possible. it seems to come into life early. i have seen a little tot, whom i could with no inconvenience have tucked under my arm, walking down the road, head up in the air, breathing out an aggressive self-confidence, and defiance of all around, worthy of one of the old-time kings. and i recognized that he had simply absorbed the atmosphere in which his four brief years had been lived. this has come to be the inbred spirit of mankind. everywhere this proud, self-assertive, self-sufficient, self-confident, self-aggressive spirit is found, in varying degree. it is coupled sometimes with laughable ignorance; sometimes with real learning and wisdom and culture. it is emphasized sometimes the more by school training, and other such advantages. but through all these accidental things it remains,--the dominant human characteristic. the chief letter in man's alphabet is the one next after h, spelled and written with a large capital. the yellow fever--the fever for gold--so increasingly epidemic, is at heart a bit of the same thing. the money gives power, and power gives a certain independence of others, and then a certain compelling of others to be dependent on the one who has the money and wields the power. men everywhere say just exactly what they are specially warned against saying, "_my_ power and the might of _my_ hand hath gotten me this wealth." they forget the words following this in the old book of god. "but thou shalt remember the lord thy god, for it is _he_ that giveth thee power to get wealth."[ ] this seems to be the picture that underlies that phrase, "poor in spirit," which the master declared to be so blessed.[ ] he is trying to woo men away from the thing that is dominating those all around him. i have puzzled a good bit over the phrase to find out just what was in the master's mind. emphasizing the word "spirit" seems to bring out the meaning. the blessedness is not in being poor, but in a certain spirit that may control a man. we are all poor in everything except spirit. the last degree of poverty is to be a pauper. now, the simple truth is that we are all--every last man of us--paupers in everything. we haven't a thing we haven't got from some one else. we are beneficiaries to the last degree, dependent on the bounty of another. we are paupers in life itself. our life came to us in the first instance from the creative hand, through the action of others, and it is being sustained every moment by the same hand. we had nothing to do with its coming, and, while we influence our life by living in accord with certain physical laws, still the life itself is all the time being supplied to us directly by the same unseen hand. we are paupers in ability, in virtue, in character, in fact in everything. we own nothing; we only hold it in trust. we have nothing except what some one else is supplying. what we call our ability, our genius, and so on, comes by the creative breath breathing afresh upon and through what the patient creative hand has supplied and is sustaining. we are paupers, without a rag to our bones, or a copper in the pocket we haven't got, not having a rag to our bones; paupers in everything except----. there is an exception. it is both pitiable and laughable. we are enormously rich in _spirit_, in our imagination, in our thought of ourselves. blessed are they who are as poor in spirit as they actually are in everything else. they recognize that they are wholly dependent on some one else, and so they live the dependent life, with its blessed closeness of touch with the gracious provider. in certain institutions are placed those who imagine themselves to be in high social and official rank, and in possessions what they are not, who imagine it to such a degree that it is best that they be kept apart from others. it would seem like an extreme thing to say that these people are spirit-mirrors in which we may partly see ourselves. yet it would be saying the truth. how laughable, if it were not so overwhelmingly pitiful, must men look to god,--without a stitch to their backs except what he has given, without a copper in their pockets except what has been borrowed from his bank, yet strutting up and down the street of life, heads held high in air, as though they owned the universe, and--if it did not sound blasphemous i could add the rest of the fact--and were doing him a favour by running his world so skilfully! and it grieves one to the heart to note that this seems to be about as true within church circles as without. the difference between is ever growing smaller to the disappearing point. it was into such an atmosphere, never intenser than in palestine and jerusalem nineteen centuries ago, that the man christ jesus came. and he had the moral daring to begin living a dependent life, the true human life, looking up gratefully to the father's hand for everything. was it any wonder his presence caused such a disturbance in the moral atmosphere of the world! he insisted, with the strange insistence of gentleness, on living such a life, through all the extremes that the hating world-spirit could contrive against him. out of such a life comes his "follow me." and in this he is simply calling us back to the original human life as planned by god. now, of course, in that first step, that great "emptying out" step, there can be no following. there he is the lone man, unapproachable in the moral splendour of his solitude. but from the time when he came in amongst us as jesus, our brother, the typical son of man, he was marking out afresh the original road for our feet. this was the foundation trait in his character. he lived the dependent life. a father-pleasing life. the second trait in his upward relation was this--he chose to live _a father-pleasing life_. i use those words because he used them.[ ] i might say "consecrated" or "dedicated" or "surrendered" or other like words. and these are good words, but in common use we have largely lost their meaning. they are used unthinkingly for something less--much less--than they mean. perhaps if we use the phrase he used we may be able to get back to the thing he meant, and did. there are three possible lives open to every man's choice: a bad life, in which selfishness or passion or both, either refined or coarse, rule; a good, true, natural life; and a father-pleasing life. by a good, true, natural life i mean, just now, a really christian life in all that that means, but lived as if there were no emergency in the world to change one's habit of life. you know an emergency coming into a man's life makes radical changes. you go to bed tonight and ordinarily will sleep out your eight hours in comfort and quiet. if a fire break out in the house, you are up in the middle of the night, hurrying around, only partly clad, carrying out valuables, or helping turn on water, or something of this sort. your natural arrangements for the night are all broken up by the fire. an emergency may make radical changes in one's life for a little time, sometimes for the whole life. financial reverses may change the whole habit of one's life. here's a man who has a well-assured, good-sized income from his business, or his inheritance, or both. he lives in a luxuriously appointed home, with many fine pictures and works of art and curios which it is enjoyable to have. he has a choice library including some fine costly old prints and editions, and enjoys adding rare books on subjects in which he is specially interested. he belongs to some literary and social and athletic clubs. he has an interesting family growing up around him whose education is being carefully looked after. he is an earnest bible-loving christian, faithful in church attendance and church duties, pure in life, and saintly in character. he gives liberally to church and benevolent objects, including foreign missions, which have become a part of the church system into which he fits. and he goes an even, contented round of life, home, church, club, recreation and so on, year in and out, holding and using the great bulk of his money for himself. i think of that as one illustration of the good, true, natural life. now, the father-pleasing life is radically different in certain things. ordinarily the two would be identical. the true natural life as originally planned for us would be the life pleasing to the father. but something, not a part of god's plan, has broken into life, a terrible something, worse than a fire in the night, or a financial panic that sweeps away your all. sin has wrought fearful havoc; it has made an awful emergency, and this emergency has affected the life and character of all the race, in a bad way, terribly, awfully, beyond words to tell, or imagination to depict. the whole earth is in the grip of a desperate moral emergency. and naturally enough this emergency affects the life of any one concerned with this earth. it has affected god's life, and god's plans, tremendously. it has broken his heart with grief, and radically changed his plans for his own life. he has made a plan for winning his world away from its rebellion, its sin, back again to purity and close touch with himself. that plan centred around his son, and he spared not his own son, but gave him up. and that emergency, and that plan of the father's because of the emergency, have affected our lord jesus' life on the earth. the whole plan of his human life was radically revolutionized by it. the emergency, the father's plan, gripped him. he turned away from the true, good, natural life which it would have been proper for him as a man to have lived, and he lived another sort of life. it was an emergency life, a life fitted to his father's plan, and so the father-pleasing life. he became a homeless man, with all that that means. would any man have enjoyed home-life with all the rare home-joys, the sweetest of all natural joys, so much as he? and then the larger circle of congenial friends, the enjoyment of music, of exquisite art, the reverent study of the great questions of life, of the wonders of nature whose powers it was given man to study and cultivate and develop,[ ]--it is surely no irreverence to think of him both enjoying and gracing such a life, for such was the original plan of human life as thought out by a gracious creator. instead, he had not where to lay his head, though so wearied with ceaseless toil. he fairly burned his life out those few years, early and late, ministering to the emergency-stricken crowds, healing their sick, feeding their hunger, raising their dead, comforting broken hearts, winning back sin-stained men and women, teaching the ignorant neglected multitudes, preaching the father's yearning love, searching out the straying, ceaselessly travelling up and down, without leisure enough to sleep or to eat oftentimes, and all this despite the efforts of his kinsfolk to restrain his burning intensity. this is what i mean by a father-pleasing life. it was truly the consecrated life, consecrated to his father's emergency plan for his world. it was the surrendered life, wholly given up to the one passionate plan of his father's broken heart for his earth family. now, his "follow me" does not mean imitation. it does not mean a restless, aggressive hurrying here and there in meetings and christian service. it means that there will be a getting so close that the sweet fever of his heart shall be caught by ours. the world-vision of his eyes shall flood ours. the passion of the father's heart shall become the passion of our hearts. and we shall be controlled in all our lives, our holdings, our habits, _by what he tells us_. it does not mean that we will seek to be homeless as jesus was, though it may possibly turn out to mean for some of us that we shall be homeless even as he. but it means that we shall find out _the father's plan for our lives_. and when it has become clear, we will set to music pitched in the joyous major our lord's own words, "i do always the things that are pleasing to him." and then we will set our lives to that joyous music with its rare undertone of the exquisite minor. it may mean africa for you, or china for this other one. it may mean a plainer home at home, a simpler wardrobe, a more careful use of money. it may mean a new dominant note in your preaching, and all the personal influence of your life. it may possibly mean what will seem like yet more radical changes. it certainly will mean a deepening peace within, a closer touch of fellowship with the lord jesus, a wholly new conception of the meaning of prayer, and a radically new experience of the power of god in our own bodies and lives, and in our touch with others. it will mean that the music of his will and ours swinging rhythmically together in all things shall sweep our lives even as the strong wind the young saplings. this was the second trait in our lord jesus' character upward, he lived the father-pleasing life. to some it will seem like a further step--a fourth step--downward in his humility. and it was. the way up is down. the down slant is the beginning of the hilltop road. going down is the way up; downward in the crowd's estimation; upward into closer touch of sympathetic life with god, and in reaching the true ideal of life. the obedient life. the third trait of our lord jesus' character upward, in relation with his father, was that he lived _the obedient life_. this is really emphasizing what has just been said. but it is putting the emphasis on the daily habit of his life, rather than on the underneath motive. this was the daily spelling out of the first two traits. obedience became the touchstone by which everything was tested. the touchstone was not men's needs, deeply as that took hold of his heart, and shaped so much his life. it was not the thought of service, though never was a life so filled with eager glad service. the touchstone was not natural liking or choice, the proper instinctive reach out of his true human nature, though this would be strong in him, the typical son of man. this would not be repressed as an unholy or wrong thing. it would only be given second place, or left out, as it might run across the grain of the great life-passion. with a fresh touch of awe it may truly be said: he did not come down to earth primarily to die, though he knew beforehand that this would stand out as the great one thing. the death was an item in the obedience. he came down to do his father's will. the path of obedience led straight to the hill of the cross, and he trod that path regardless of where it led. obedience was the one touchstone of his life.[ ] and it will be the one touchstone of his true follower's life. we shall run across this same vein of bright yellow gold, again and again, as we work on through this "follow me" mine. these were the three traits of our lord jesus' character upward, toward his father. they were not different because of the emergency of sin he found in the world. they would have marked his life just as fully had there been no sin. but the presence of sin caused them to change radically the whole course of the life he actually lived. sinless by choice. then there were _two traits of character inward_, in himself. one was his _purity_. there was the absence of everything that should not be in him. this is the negative side, though no part of his character called for more intense positiveness. purity means sinlessness. he was sinless. but we must quickly remember what this means, or else there may seem to be no following for us, only a wistful gazing where we cannot go. it does not mean simply this, that through his peculiar birthright there was freedom from all taint of sin. it means more than this. sinlessness was a matter of choice with him, and of choice insisted upon. and, be it said reverently, no man ever had a stiffer fight to keep true to his purpose than he. he was tempted in all points like as we are. he was tempted more than we. the tempter did his best and worst; he mustered all his cunning and driving power against this lone man. and the temptations were real. i am not concerned over the merely academical questions of the schoolmen here. the practical side is the intense side that takes all one's strength and thought. practically, that our lord jesus was really tempted, means that he could have yielded had he so chosen. that he did not meant real struggle on his part. not, of course, that he ever wanted to yield to what was wrong, but temptation was never so subtle, and doing the right never made so difficult as for him. he suffered in being tempted.[ ] his sinlessness meant a decision, then many a time a moist brow, a clenched hand, and set jaw, a sore stress of spirit, and deep-breathed continual prayer whose intensity down in his heart could never be fully expressed at the lips. the temptation to fail to obey, simply not to obey, when obeying meant going through a sore experience was never brought so deftly, so subtly, so repeatedly and insistently to any as to him. resisting not only meant the decision, but the strength of resistance against terrific strength of repeated insistence. how wondrously human this god-man was in his temptations, in his set refusals, and even more, how human in keeping free from sin. for sin is not human, letting sin in would have been a going down from the human level. this is the practical meaning of his sinlessness--choice, choice insisted upon, fighting, continual prayer, the father's help, such as any man may have--not more. this helps us to see how intensely practical his "follow me" becomes. it is not only that we will want to fight against the incoming of sin because we feel we ought to. but as we get close to him and breathe in his spirit, there will come an inbred dislike, an intense inner loathing of sin, however refined it may be in its approach. there will be a continual coming for cleansing in the only fluid that can remove sin--his precious blood, and in the only flame that can burn it out--the fire of the holy spirit.[ ] there will be a hardening of the set purpose to be free of sin. we can be sinless in _purpose_. there can be a growing sinlessness in actual life. and yet all experience goes to show that the nearer we actually walk with god the more we shall be conscious of the need of cleansing, the more we will talk about our lord jesus, and the less and still less about our attainments. the second inward trait in our lord jesus was the other side of this--his positive _goodness_. i mean the presence in him of all that should be there. this is the exact reverse or complement of the purity. it is the other half that must go with that to make a perfect character. i like to use the word "holiness" in the sense of whole-ness. he had and developed a whole life. it was fully rounded out. there was nothing lacking that should be there, even as there was nothing present that should not have been there. there is among us a good bit of negative goodness of character. we point with pride to what we don't do of that which is bad or not good. but this is a very one-sided sort of thing. purity and goodness together--purity and holiness, wholeness--made the perfect, completed character of our lord. and it was so wholly through his choice, his own action, with his father's gracious help working through his choice. and the blessed contagion of the leader's presence will make an intense longing within to follow him here too. a fellow-feeling. then there were _two outward traits of character_, that is in his relations with his fellow-men, of nazareth, of israel, and of all the race. he had _sympathy_ with men; a rare, altogether exceptional sympathy. _he felt with men_ in all their feelings and needs and circumstances. his fine spirit reached into men's inner spirit, and felt their hunger and pain and longings and joys, felt them even as they did, and the arms of his spirit went around them to help. and they felt it. they felt that he really understood and felt with them. and so sincere and brotherly was his fellow-feeling that they gladly welcomed it as from one really of themselves. to men, this man, so lone in certain traits and experiences, was their brother, not only in his feeling with them, but in their feeling toward him. there's something peculiar in that word sympathy. it's a warm word. it has a soft cushion to it. it is a help word. there's something in it that makes you think of a warm strong hand helping, of a soft padding cushioning the sharp edges where they touch your flesh. it makes you think of a tender, fine spirit breathing in and through your own spirit, even as the soft south wind in the spring warms you, and the bracing mountain wind in the summer brings you new life. our lord jesus had this great trait of sympathy with his fellows. he _could_ have it, for he had been through all their experiences. he knew the commonplace round of daily life so common to all the race. nazareth taught him that, through thirty of his thirty-three years,--ten-elevenths of his life. he knew temptation, cunning, subtle, stormy, persistent. he knew the inner longings of a nature awakening, and yet what it meant to be held down by outer circumstances. he knew the sharp test of waiting, long waiting. he knew hunger and bodily weariness, and the pinch of scanty funds. he was homeless at a time when a home would have been most grateful. he knew what it meant to have the life-plan broken, and something else, a bitter something else thrust in its place. and he knew, too, the sweets of human life, of human love, of the helpfulness of others' sympathy, of the father's pleased smile, of the holy spirit's indwelling, of the wondrous inner peace that follows obedience in hard places, of the joys of service, of the delight of being able to sympathize. his experience ran through the whole diapason of human feelings, and so he can find a key-note in every one of its tones for the sweet rich symphony of sympathy. there is again an exception to be noted here. there could be no fellow-feeling in choosing wrong, or in yielding to the low or base or selfish. he is the lone man there. does this make all the stronger his sympathy with us in our upper reach out of such things? surely it does. the exception makes it stand out more sharply that our lord jesus felt our feelings. wherever you are, however tight the corner, or narrow the road, or lonely the way, or keen the suffering, you can always stop and say: "he was here. he was here _first_, and _most_. he understands." as you kneel and look up, you can remember that there's a man on the throne, a fellow-man, with a human heart like mine, and like yours. he understands. he feels. with utmost reverence let it be said, there's more of god since our lord jesus went back. human experience has been taken up into the person of god. and let me remind you again, that the "follow me" here will mean nothing less than fellowship in the sufferings of our fellows, fellowship to the point of radically affecting our lives. sympathy will go deeper than a sense of pity for those less fortunate, and a giving to them a warm hand and a good lift up. the poor woman, living in a slum district, being visited by a mission visitor, spoke for the universal human heart when she said earnestly, "we don't want _things_; we want _love_." as we get up close to our lord jesus there will come the indwelling in us of the spirit that controlled him. we will see through his eyes, we will feel with his heart, our hands will reach out to grasp other human hands with the impulse of his touch upon them. we shall know the exquisite pain of real sympathy with men in need, and the great joy of sharing and making lighter their load. when you don't have to. the second outward trait of our lord jesus' character was _sacrifice_. this is not something different from what has been said; it is only going a step further, indeed going the last step that he could go, in both his sympathy with men and his obedience to his father. it helps to remember what sacrifice means; not suffering merely, though it includes suffering; not privation simply, though it may include this, too. there is much suffering and privation where there is no sacrifice. sacrifice means doing something to help some one else when it takes some of your life-blood, and when you don't have to, except the have-to of love. sacrifice was so woven into the very fabric of jesus' life that wherever you cut in some of the red threads stick out. it was the never-absent undertone of his life, from earliest years until the tragic close. but the undertone rose higher and grew stronger until at the last it became the dominant, the only tone to be heard. he gave his life out on the cross that so men might be saved from the terrible result of their sin, when he didn't have to, except the have-to of his great heart. i have spoken of sacrifice as one of the two outward, manward traits of his character. but the truth is his calvary sacrifice faced three ways: upward, inward and outward. it faced toward the father, for it was carrying out the father's plan, and that lets us see not only the father's love, but his estimate, as the world's administrator of justice, of the horribleness of the sin which he was so freely forgiving.[ ] it faced in toward himself, for it was the purity and perfection of the life poured out that gave the peculiar meaning to his death, and it was his sympathetic love that led him up that steep hill. it faced outward, for the love of it was meant to break men's hearts and bend their stubborn wills, and so it did and has. his sympathy--love suffering--came to have a new meaning as he went to the last extreme in his suffering. sympathy is sometimes spoken of as putting yourself in the other's place so as to help him better. our lord jesus did this. he did it as none other did, or could. he actually put himself in our place on the cross. he experienced what would have come to us had he not taken our place. he suffered the suffering that belongs to us because of our sin. he felt the feelings that came through sin working out to its bitter end. indeed he went beyond our own feelings here. for because he consented to suffer as a guilty sinner, we, who trust his precious blood, are spared that awful experience. calvary was sympathy to the extreme of sacrifice. but both words, "sympathy" and "sacrifice," get new depths of meaning at calvary. this red shuttle thread of sacrifice will appear again and again in the fabric which his "follow me" weaves out for us. what a character he calls us to! what strength of friendship to insist on our coming up close to himself! is it possible? surely not. he is so far beyond us. yet there is a way, only one, the way of the dependent life, depending on him to reproduce his own likeness in us. and our giving him a free hand in doing it. there is one word that could be used to cover all of this, if we only knew its full, rich, sweet meaning. that is the little understood, the much misunderstood, much belittled-in-use word, "love." all that has been said of the character of our lord jesus can be found inside that four-lettered word. each trait spoken of is but a fresh spelling of love, some one side of it. love planned the dependent life, and only love can live it truly. love longs to please love, regardless of any sacrifice involved. obedience is the active rhythm of love on the street of life. purity is the inner heart of love; and the fully rounded character is the maturity of love. sympathy is the heart of love beating in perfect rhythm with your own, and sacrifice is love giving its very life gladly out to save yours. some day we shall know how much is meant by the sentence, "god is love." a little child of a christian home came one day to his mother, asking what it meant to "believe on the lord jesus." she thought a moment how to make the answer simple to the child, and then said, "it means thinking about him, and loving him." sometime after, the little fellow was noticed sitting very quietly, apparently much absorbed in thought, and his mother said, "what are you doing, my son?" with child-like simplicity he said in a quiet tone, "i'm believing on the lord jesus." and a warm flush of feeling came to the mother's heart as she realized the practical tender meaning to her son, of the word "believing." may we be great enough to be as little children while i adapt that mother's language here: following our lord jesus is thinking about him and loving him. as we come to know the meaning of love we shall find that following is loving. the "follow me" life is the love life. but we must learn the meaning of love before that sentence will grip us. the closer we follow him the closer we will come to knowing what love is. the nearer we get to him the nearer we get to its meaning. we will know it as we know him. when we come into his presence, face to face, its simple full meaning will flash upon us with a great simple surprise. let us follow on to know it, that we may know him. let us live it and so we shall live him. and in so living we shall know it and him; we shall know love, and jesus, and god. the long, rough road he trod the book's story. it wasn't always a rough road, of course. but as you look at it from end to end, the roughness of it is what takes your eye most, and takes great hold of your heart. the smooth places here and there make you feel that it was a rough road. and yet, rough though it really was, the roughness was eased by the love in the heart of the man that trod it; though not eased for the soles of his feet, nor for hands and face. for there was thorny roughness at the sides as he pushed through, as well as steep roughness under foot. and it may not seem so long at first. but the longer you look, the sharper your eyes get to see how great was the distance he had to come, from where he was, down to where we were. let me take a little sea room, and go back a bit so we can see the full length, and the real roughness, of the road he came. and lest some of you may think that the telling of the first part of it has the sound of a fairy tale, let me tell you that it is simply the story of what actually took place, as told in the pages of this old book of god. it will be a help if you will keep your copy of the bible at hand, and turn thoughtfully to its pages now and then as we talk. there is a rare simplicity in the way in which the story of the bible is told. and it helps to remember that the bible is never concerned with chronology, nor with scientific process but only with giving pictures of moral or spiritual conditions among men as seen from above. and chiefly it is concerned with giving a picture of god, in his power and patience and gentleness, and in his great justice and right in dealing with everybody. yet the picture and the language never clash with the facts of nature and of life as dug out by student or scientist. it is a great help in talking about these things of god, and of human life, not to have any theories to fit and press things into, but simply to take the book's story, and to tell it over again in the language of our generation. it simplifies things quite a bit not to try to fit god into your philosophy, but to accept his own story of life. it not only greatly simplifies one's outlook, it gives you such sure footing, such steadiness. any other footing may go out from under your feet any time. but the old book of god "standeth sure," never more sure than to-day when it was never more riddled at, and mined under. but neither bullets nor mining have affected the book itself. the only harm has been in the kick-back of the firing, upon those standing close by. i am frank to confess my own ignorance of the great truths we are talking over here, save for the bible itself, and the response to it within my own spirit, and the further response to it in human life all over the earth to-day west and east. human life is a faithful mirror, accurately reflecting to-day just the conditions found in this old book. no book so faithfully and accurately describes the workings and feelings of the human mind and heart of to-day in our western world, and in all the world, as this book, written so long ago in the language of the east. its finger still gives accurately the pulse beat of the race. and it helps, too, to tell the story in the simple way in which this book itself does, as a story. god on a wooing errand. god and man used to live together in a garden. it was a most wonderful garden, full of trees and flowers and fruit, of singing birds with rare feathers and songs, of beasts that had never yet learned fear, nor to make others feel it, and a beautiful river of living water. the name given it indicates that it was a most delightful spot.[ ] god and man used to live together in this garden. they talked and walked and worked together. man helped god in putting the finishing touches on his work of creation. it was the first school, with god himself as teacher.[ ] god and man used to have a trysting time under the trees in the twilight. but one evening when god came for the usual bit of fellowship the man was not there. god was there.[ ] he had not gone away, and he has never gone away. man had gone away, and god was left lonely standing under the tree of life. a friend, in whose home we were, told of her little daughter's remark one day. the mother had been teaching her that there is only one god. the child seemed surprised and on being told again, said in her childlike simplicity, "i think he must be very lonesome." well, the child was right in the word used. god is lonesome, though for an utterly different reason than was in the child's mind. god was lonesome that day, left standing alone under the trees of the garden. he is lonesome for fellowship with every one who stays away from himself. that homely human word may well express to us the longing of his heart. man went away from god that day, then he wandered farther away, then he lost his way back, then he didn't want to come back. and away from god his ideas about god got badly confused. his eyes grew blind to god's pleading face, his ears dull and then deaf to god's voice. his will got badly warped and bent out of shape morally, and his life sadly hurt by the sin he had let in.[ ] and all this was very hard on god.[ ] it _grieved_ him at his heart. he sent many messengers, one after another, through long years, but they were treated as badly as they could be.[ ] and at last god said to himself, "what more can i do? this is what i will do. i'll go down myself and live among them, and woo them back myself." and so it was done. one day he wrapped about himself the garb of our humanity, and came in amongst us as one of ourselves.[ ] and he became known amongst us as jesus. he had spoken the world into being; now, in john's simple homely language, he pitched his tent amongst our tents as our near neighbour and kinsman.[ ] our lord jesus was the face of god looking into ours, the voice of god speaking into the ears of our hearts, the hand of god reached down to make a way back and then lead us along the way back again, the heart of god coming in touch to warm ours and make us willing to go back. it was a long road he came, as long as the distance we had gone away from him. and no measuring stick has yet been whittled out that can tell that distance. we want to look a bit at the last lap of the road, the earth-lap. it runs from the bethlehem plain where he came in, to the olivet hilltop where he slipped away again up and back, for a time, until things are ready for the next step in his plan. the rough places. the bit of earth-road began to get pretty rough before he had quite gotten here. the pure gentle virgin-mother was under cruelly hurting suspicion on the point about which a woman is properly most sensitive, and that too by the one who was nearest to her. i've wondered why joseph, too, was not told of the plan of god when mary was, and so she be spared this sore suspicion. i think it was because he simply _could_ not have taken it in beforehand, though he rose so nobly when he was told. her experience was unavoidable, humanly speaking. that hastily improvised cradle was in rather a rough spot for both mother and babe. the hasty fleeing for several days and nights to egypt, with those heart-rending cries of the grief-stricken mothers of bethlehem haunting their ears, the cautious return, and then apparently the change of plans from a home in historic bethlehem to the much less favoured village of nazareth,--it was all a pretty rough beginning on a very rough road. it was a sort of prophetic beginning. there proved to be blood-shedding at both ends, and each time innocent blood, too. the word nazareth has become a high fence hiding from view thirty of the thirty-three years. was this the dead-level, monotonous stretch of the road, from the time of the early teens on to the full maturity of thirty? yet it proved later to have a dangerously rough place on the precipice side of the town. it seems rather clear that joseph and mary would have much preferred some other place, their own family town, cultured bethlehem, for rearing this child committed to their care. but the serious danger involved decided the choice of the less desirable town for their home.[ ] but the roughest part began when our lord jesus turned his feet from the shaded seclusion of nazareth, and turned into the open road. at once came the wilderness, the place of terrific temptation, and of intense spirit conflict. the fact of temptation was intensified by the length of it. forty long days the lone struggle lasted. the time test is the hardest test. the greatest strength is the strength that wears, doesn't wear out. that wilderness had stood for sin's worst scar on the earth's surface. since then it has stood for the most terrific and lengthened-out siege-attack by the evil one upon a human being. satan himself came and rallied all the power of cunning and persistence at his command. he did his damnable worst and best. in an art gallery at moscow is a painting by a russian artist of "christ in the wilderness," which reverently and with simple dramatic power brings to you the intense humanity of our lord, and how tremendously real to him the temptation was. this helps to intensify to us the meaning of the wilderness. it stands for victory, by a man, in the power of the spirit, over the worst temptation that can come. then follows a long stretch of rough road with certain places sharply marked out to our eyes. the rejection by the jewish leaders began at once. it ran through three stages, the silent contemptuous rejection, the active aggressive rejection, then the hardened, murderous rejection running up to the terrible climax of the cross. the contemptuous rejection of the baptist's claim for his master, by the official commission sent down to inquire,[ ] was followed by the more aggressive, as they began to realize the power of this man they had to deal with. john's imprisonment revealed an intensifying danger, and the need of withdrawing to some less dangerous place. our lord's change to galilee, and to preaching and working among the masses, was followed by a persistent campaign on the part of the southerners of nagging, harrying warfare against him throughout galilee. it grew in bitterness and intensity, with john's death as a further turning point to yet intenser bitterness. the visits to jerusalem were accompanied by fiercer attacks, venomous discussions, and frenzied attempts at personal violence. this grew into the third stage of rejection, the cool, hardened plotting of his death. the last weeks things head up at a tremendous rate; our lord appears to be the one calm, steady man, even in his terrific denunciation of them, held even and steady in the grip of a clear, strong purpose, as he pushed his way unwaveringly onward. then came the terrible climax,--the cross. the worst venomous spittle of the serpent's poison sac spat out there. it was the climax of hate, and the climax of his unspeakable love. when your heart's tuned to the music. surely it was a long, rough road. its length was not measured by miles, nor years, but by the experiences of this lone man. so measured it becomes the longest road ever trod, from purity's heights to sin's depths; from love's mountain top to hate's deepest gulf. it makes a new record for roughness. for no one has ever suffered what our lord jesus did; and no one's suffering ever had the value and meaning for another that his had and has for all men and for us. not one of us to-day realizes how he suffered, nor the intensity of meaning that suffering actually has for all the race, and for those of us who accept it for ourselves. it was a rough, long road, and he knew ahead that it would be. he saw dimly ahead, then more sharply outlined as he drew on, those crossed logs in the road, growing bigger and darker and more forbidding as he pushed on. but he could not be stopped by that, for he was thinking about us, and about his father. he pushed steadily on, past crossed logs all overgrown and tangled with thorn bushes and poison ivy vines, bearing the marks of logs and thorns and poison ivy, but he went through to the end of the road, he reached his world; he reached _our hearts_. and now he is longing to reach through our hearts to the hearts of the others. "but none of the ransomed ever knew how deep were the waters crossed; nor how dark was the night that the lord passed through, 'ere he found his sheep that were lost. 'lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way that mark out the mountain's track?' 'they were shed for one who had gone astray ere the shepherd could bring him back.' but all through the mountains, thunder-riven, and up from the rocky steep, there arose a glad cry to the gate of heaven, 'rejoice! i have found my sheep.'"[ ] but there was something more on that road. do you know how the wind blows through the trees on the steep mountain side, and will make music in your heart, _if your heart is tuned to its music_, even while you are pushing your way through thorny tanglewood and undergrowth? do you know how, as you go down the deep mountain ravines, with the wild rushing torrent far below, where a single misstep would mean so much, how the breeze playing through the leaves makes sweetest melody, _if your heart's tuned to it?_ well, this great lone man had a heart tuned for the music of this road. the strong wind of his father's love blew down through the wild mountains into his face, and made sweetest music, and his ear was in tune and heard it. he had a tuning-fork that gave him the true pitch for the rarest music, while his feet travelled cautiously the deep wilderness ravines, and boldly climbed through the thorny undergrowth of that steep hill just outside the city wall. obedience is the rhythm of two wills, that blends their action into rarest harmony. some of us need to use his tuning-fork,[ ] so as to enjoy the music of the road. the pleading call to follow hungry for the human touch. god hungers for the human touch. there's an inner hesitancy in saying this, and in hearing it. we feel it can hardly be so, even though our inner hearts would wish it were so. we know that we men hunger for the human touch, the strongest of us. and in our hour of sore need we know that our inner hearts look up, and wish we could have a really close touch with god. well, this is a bit of the image of god in us. we were made so, like himself. in seeing ourselves here, we are getting a closer look at the heart of god. he longs for the human touch. when he made us he breathed into our nostrils the breath of his own life. and this is not simply a bit of the first genesis chapter. it is a bit of every human life. there's the breath of god in every new life born into the world. he gives a bit of himself. we are not complete creatively until part of himself has come to be part of us. and jesus' coming was but the same thing put in yet more intense, close, appealing shape to us. he came to get us in touch again after the break of sin. he gave his blood that we might have life again after the sin-break had broken off our life, and commenced to dry it up. this was an even closer touch. the breath of god came in eden to breathe in our lungs. the blood of his son came on calvary to give life-action to our hearts. could there be anything to make clearer his hunger for the human touch? the holy spirit's presence spells out the same thing once more. there has been every sort of thing to induce him to go away. he has been ignored, left out of all reckoning, and talked against. yet with a patience beyond what that word means to us, he has remained creatively in every man as the very breath of his life. and he comes and remains the very breath of the spirit life in those who yield to his pleading call. jesus was god coming after us. we had gone away. he came to woo us back into close touch again. he came to the nation of israel, that through it he might reach out to all men. when he comes again it will be again to use israel as his messenger, while he himself will be present on the earth in a new way to woo men to himself. when that nation's leaders rejected john's announcement, and so rejected our lord jesus, he began to appeal to individual men, while waiting for the nation. and the work with individuals was also his call to the nation. so the chief thing he did was to call men. his presence was a call, and the crowds flocked to him wherever he went. his life of purity and sympathy was felt as an earnest call and responded to eagerly. his doings were a very intense call. every healed man and woman, every one set free of demon influence, every one of the fed multitudes, felt called to this man who had helped him so. his teaching was a continual call, and his preaching. but above all else stood out the personal call he gave men. for our lord jesus was not content to deal with the crowds simply; he dealt with men one by one in intimate heart touch. called to go. there are a number of invitations he used in calling men. it was as though in his eagerness he used every sort that might go home. and yet there was more than this; these invitations are like successive steps up into the life he wanted them to have. he said, "come unto me."[ ] this was always the first, and still remains first. it led, and it leads, into rest of heart and life, peace with god. he quickly followed it with "come ye after me."[ ] they must come to him before they could come after him. this was found to mean discipleship, learning the road. he would "make" them like himself in going after others. he said, "take my yoke upon you."[ ]this meant a bending down to get into the yoke, a surrender of will and heart to himself, and then partnership, fellowship side-by-side with himself. then he spoke another word to the innermost circle, on the night in which he was betrayed. he had a long talk that evening with the eleven around the supper table, and walking down to the grove of olives at the brook of the cedars.[ ] several times that evening he used this new word, "abide," "abide in me." that means staying with him, not leaving, living continuously with him. it means a continued separation from anything that would separate from him. and then it means a fulness of life coming from himself into us as we draw all our life from himself, a rich ripeness, a rounded maturity, a depth of life, and these always becoming more,--richer, rounder, deeper. then after the awful days of the cross were past, on the evening of the resurrection day, in the upper room with ten of the inner disciples, he practically said, "you be myself"; "as the father sent me, even so send i you"[ ]; "you be i." i wonder if any one of us has ever been taken or mistaken for the lord jesus. we would never know it, of course. but he meant it to be so. a scottish lady missionary in india tells of a bible class of girls which she had. she was teaching them about the life and character of the lord jesus. one day a new girl came in, fresh from the heathenism in which she grew up, knowing nothing of the gospel. she listened, and then became quite intense and excited in her childish way, as she heard them talking about some one, how good he was, how gentle, how he was always teaching and helping the people around him. at last she could restrain her eagerness no longer, but blurted out, "i know that man; he lives near us." it was found that she did not know about christ, but supposed they were speaking of a very earnest native christian man living in her neighbourhood. she had mistaken her neighbour for jesus. how glad that man must have been if he ever knew. this was a part of our lord's plan. and at the very end, these successive invitations took the shape of a command, which was both a permission and an order,--"go ye."[ ] men who had taken to heart, one after another, these invitations were ready for the command. they would be eager for it. the invitations were the master's preparation for the command. he could trust such men to go, and to keep steady and true as they went, in the power he gave them. there is one word that you find in all these invitations--"me." they all centre about the lord jesus. he is the centre of gravity drawing every one, in ever growing nearness and meaning, to himself. it is only when we have been drawn into closest touch with him that we are qualified to "go" to others. it's only himself in us, only as much of himself as is in us, that will be helpful to any one else, or will make any one else willing to break with his old way. he is the only magnet to draw men away from the old life up to himself. "follow me." but there's one other invitation which belongs in this list. it proves to be the greatest of them all, because you come to find it includes all these others. it's his "follow me." it seems at first glance to be the same as that "come after me." but it is the word he repeated again and again, under different circumstances, with added explanations, to the same men, until you feel that he meant it to stand out as the great invitation to his disciples. it seems to mean different things at different times. that is to say, it grew in its significance. it came to mean more than it had seemed to. peter is a good illustration here. the word really came to him five times, with a different, an added, meaning each time. his first following meant acquaintance.[ ] john the herald had sent his disciples, john and andrew, along after jesus as he was walking one day on the jordan river road. they followed jesus to their first acquaintance in a two hours' talk, which quite satisfied their hearts as to who he was. john never forgot that first following. every detail of it stands out in his memory when long years after he began to write his story of the master. andrew went at once to hunt up peter, and brought him face-to-face with his newly found friend and master. that interview settled things for peter. andrew's following now included his. following meant the beginning of the personal friendship which was to mean so much for both of them. it was about a year after, that "follow me" had a new meaning to peter and some others.[ ] the invitation was an illustrated one this time, illustrated by a living picture of just what it meant. it was one morning by the lake of galilee. peter and his partners had had a poor night's fishing, and were out on shore washing their nets. the master had come along, with a great crowd pressing in to get closer and hear better. there was danger of the crowd pushing the master into the water. the master borrowed peter's boat for a pulpit. peter sat facing the crowd while the master talked to them. was that the first time the spell of a crowd began to get its subtle heart-hold on peter as he looked into their hungry eyes? who can withstand the great appeal of the crowd's eyes? not our lord, nor any that have caught his spirit. then the great draught of fishes, after the fishless night, made peter feel the master's power. fishes would make him feel it, being a fisherman, as nothing else would. the sense of jesus' power, and with it a sense of purity--interesting how the power made him feel the purity--this brought him to his knees at our lord's feet with the confession of his own sinfulness. peter was greatly moved that morning, greatly shaken. a new experience of tremendous power had come to him. and out of it came a new life, a radical change as he left the old occupation, fishing, boats, father, means of livelihood, and entered upon the new life. "follow me" meant a radical change of life, constant companionship with jesus, sharing his life, going to school, getting ready for leadership and service; yes, and for suffering too. he entered the master's itinerant training school that morning. a man needs a sight of the lord jesus' power, a _feel_ of it, before he is fit to serve, or even to go to school to get ready for service. it was some months after this that another meaning grew into the words "follow me," and grew out of them. the words are not spoken this time, but acted. out of the group of disciples that he had gathered about him our lord prayerfully chose out peter with the others to be sent out as his messenger to others.[ ]part of the schooling was over; now a new part, a new term of school, was to begin. he gave them a special talk that morning, and sent them out to teach and heal and do for the crowds what he had been doing. he called them apostles, sent-ones, missionaries. "follow me" now meant going to others. it meant more--_power_, power to do for men all the master himself had done. first, power felt that early morning by the lake, now power given. that was a great advance in training. power had to be felt before it could be given, and has to be felt before it can be used. only as the power takes hold of our inner hearts to the feeling point, will it ever take hold of others. and no life is changed through our service till power takes hold of us to _the feeling point_. the deeper meaning. but there was a special session of the "follow me" school one day, a very serious session.[ ]they had to be shown the red threads in the weave of the word. the words had to be held under the knife, so they could look into the cut, and see the deeper meaning. "follow me" had to take deeper hold of them yet, if his power was to get the deeper hold of them, and, by and by, get hold of the needy crowds. the very setting of the words gives the new meaning to them. john had felt the keen edge of herod's axe blade, and was now in the upper presence. they were up in the far northern part because of the growing danger threatening him by the leaders. it is the turning point where our lord jesus begins to tell them that he was to suffer. their ears _could_ not take in the words. their dazed eyes show that they think they could not have heard aright,--he to _suffer!_ what could this mean? they hadn't figured on this when they left the nets and boats to follow. there had been a rosy glamour filling impulsive peter's self-confident sky. now this black storm cloud! then to peter's foolhardy daring came words spoken with a new intense quietness that made the words quiver: "if any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and 'follow me.'"[ ] this was startling to a terrific degree. here was a new, strange, perplexing combination--"deny himself," and "cross," coupled with his "follow me." what could he mean? this was surely some of his intensely figurative language again, they think. yes, it surely was; and it stood for a yet intenser experience. "follow me" means sacrifice. it means a going down as well as a going up. and it proves to mean that one can go up in power and service, only as far as he has gone down in the obedience that includes sacrifice. did peter take in the meaning that day? i think not. actions speak louder than words. that betrayal night a few short months after, when the actual cross was almost in actual sight, he "followed him afar off."[ ] without knowing it, that was as far as he had ever really followed thus far. he wanted to keep as "far off" from that cross as possible. he always had. he baulked at its first mention, baulked tremendously. yet he "followed." poor peter! he was in a terrible strait betwixt two, this wondrous master whom he really loved, and this threatening cross of nails and thongs and thorns. it was a stiff struggle between heart and flesh; between the longing of his love and the shrinking from pain and hardship and shame. and peter's kinsfolk are still having the same struggle. a great many stop here. this is going _too_ far! they prefer staying by the easier "follow me's," and forgetting this one. yes, and go on living powerless lives, and engaging in powerless service, when the crowds were never so needy. peter didn't follow this time. the road was too rough. he stumbled and fell badly. badly? still no worse than many others. when he got up he was still facing the same way. you can always tell a man's mettle by the way he faces as he gets up after a bad fall. six months or so after there came another "follow me," to peter. no, it wasn't another; it was the same one, the one he hadn't accepted. peter was to have another opportunity at the same place where he fell so badly. how patient our lord jesus was--and is. it was one morning just after breakfast--a rare breakfast--on the edge of the lake, after as poor a night's fishing as that other time.[ ] again the touch of power revealed the master's presence. again peter had a special word with the master while the others are hauling in the fish. now breakfast's over and the seven are grouped about the one, listening. the lord's quiet skilled hand touches the heart meaning of "follow me." its real meaning is a love meaning. do you love? then "follow me." then you _must_ follow, your love draws you after, even though the path be rough and broken. this is the same "follow me" that peter baulked at so badly months before. its meaning had not changed. it would mean a death, peter is plainly told. but now peter baulks no longer. the master's great love had taught him how really to love. and now not even a cross for himself would or could keep him from following close up to such a master. here is the meaning of "follow me" as it worked out in peter's experience--acquaintance, a new life, schooling, service, a sight of sacrifice, and a baulking, then--a sight of jesus on the cross, and then a willingness to go on even though it meant the sorest sacrifice. this is an etching of the road peter actually went, an etching in black and white, with the black very black. is it a picture of your road? but perhaps you have never filled out the last part--still back at that baulking place. in the thick of our present life, in the noise and din of the street of modern life, comes as of old the quiet, clear, insistent call "follow me." getting in behind. but, some one says, how can we really follow this lone man, our lord jesus christ? he was so pure in his life, stainless in motive, and unstained in character. and we--well, the nearer we get to him the more instinctively we find peter's lakeshore cry starting up within, "i am a sinful man." his very presence makes us feel the sin, the sin-instinct, the old selfish something within. how can we really follow? and the answer that comes is a real answer. it answers the inner heart-cry. it is this: we begin where he ended. the cross was the end of his life. it must be the beginning of ours. it was the climax of his obedience. all the lines of his life come together at the cross. it is the beginning for us. all the lines of our lives, the lines of purity, of character, of service, of power, run back to the one starting point. and we come to find--some of us pretty slowly--that it is only the lines that do start there that lead to anything worth while. the starting point for the true life, and for real service is very clear. and if any of us have made a false start, it will be a tremendous saving to drop things and go back and get the true start. "the blood of jesus his son cleanseth from all sin"--this is the only point from which to start the "follow me" life. "follow me" does not mean imitation. it means reincarnation. it's some one coming to re-live his life in us. he died that his life might be loosed out to be relived in us. i have already spoken of this as being a call to friendship. all the rest that comes is meant to be what naturally grows out of this friendship. peter never forgot his last "follow me" call. "lovest thou me?" then thou mayest follow. this greatly sweetens all the rest. it's all for him!--our friend. out of this personal relation comes service, power in service, suffering because of opposition to him whom we serve, and joy because we may suffer on his account.[ ] matthew became his friend that day down at the little customs-shed at the capernaum water edge. and out of that friendship grew our first gospel. john lived very close, and out of his intimacy came the gospel that reveals to us most the inner heart of our lord, and his own intimacy of relation with the father. and out of that friendship came, too, not only john's wonderful little "abiding" epistle,[ ] but the revelation book, which gives us an inkling of the coming in of the kingdom time that lies so near to our lord's heart. out of such intimacy of touch grew stephen's ringing address before the jewish council, and--his stormy, stony exit, out and up into his master's presence. and time would fail me to tell of those in every corner of the earth, and every generation since our lord was here, who have served and suffered because they loved him and followed. hidden away in the rocks and caves of france from the fires of persecution, the huguenots sang their favourite hymn: "i have a friend so precious, so very dear to me, he loves me with such tender love, he loves so faithfully. i could not live apart from him, i love to feel him nigh, and so we dwell together, my lord and i." when i was in china a year ago, my heart caught some of the distant echoes of that sort of singing, by chinese christians, in the midst of the fiery persecutions of the boxer time. and i heard the same sad, glad undertone last year out in corea, in the homes we visited, whose loved ones were behind prison bars for their friend's sake. one of the latest chapters of this friendship's outcome is only just closed in the story of that quiet, young friend of the lord jesus, william whiting borden, who sat down a little while ago, and so placed the wealth left him that the world might learn of his friend, and then went out and laid down his life in egypt in this same passion of friendship. so the earth's sod in every corner has known the fertilizing of such friendship blood, and shall some day know a wondrous harvest under our great friend's own gleaning. and this is why he asks us to follow. he needs our help. our lord jesus gave his precious life blood to redeem the world, to set it free from its sin-slavery. but there are two parts to that redemption, his and ours. these two parts are strikingly brought out by a single word in the beginning of the book of acts,[ ] the word "began." luke says that what he has been writing in his gospel of the life and death of jesus was only a _beginning_. this was what "he _began_ both to do and to teach." it is usually explained that what our lord jesus began in the gospels, the holy spirit continued to _do_ in the acts, and to _teach_ in the epistles. and this is no doubt true. but there is still more here. the holy spirit continued and continues through men what he began through jesus. there is a second part to the work of redemption, our part, the holy spirit working through us. there had to be a first part; that was the great part. there could be no second without a first. that first part was done when our lord jesus was hurt to death for us. that is the great first part. yet in doing that he had but begun something. he touched palestine. we are to cover the earth. he touched one nation; we are to go to all nations. we are to continue what he began. the work of redemption was finished on the cross so far as he was concerned; but not yet finished so far as its being taken to "all the world" was concerned. he needs us. this is why he asks us to follow. he needs our co-operation. the second great factor in carrying out what he began is--how shall i put it? shall i say, men and the holy spirit? you say, "no, change that, say the holy spirit and men. put the spirit first." well, the order of these two depends on where you are standing. if you are standing at the father's right hand, you say "the holy spirit and men." for the power is all in the holy spirit. he is the power. there can be nothing done without him. whatever is done in which he is not dominant amounts to nothing. how i wish we men might have that tremendous fact grip us in these days when the whole emphasis is on organization. but, very reverently let me say this, and i say it thus plainly that we may know how much our lord jesus is depending on us, how really he needs us,--this, that since we are on the earth, in the place of human action, where the fighting is to be done, it is accurate to say with utmost reverence, "_men_ and the holy spirit." for mark keenly, the initiative is in human hands. god's action has always waited on human action. the power is only in the holy spirit. the most astute and strong leadership amounts to nothing without him flooding it with his presence. but the power needs a channel. the spirit needs men strongly pliant to his will. the great world-plan waits, and always has waited, for willing men. and so our great friend asks us to follow because he really needs us in his plan. have you ever noticed the picture in the word "follow"? you remember that the earliest language was picture language. and it is a great help sometimes to dig down under a word and get the picture. here, it is a man standing on a roadway, earnestly beckoning, and pointing to the road he is in. the old testament word means literally "same road." the very word the master himself used means "in behind." to-night this wondrous lord jesus stands just ahead. his face still shows where the thorns cut and the thongs tore. but there is a marvellous tenderness and pleading in those great patient eyes. his hand is reached out beckoning, and you cannot miss the hole in the palm of it. the hand points to the road he trod for us. and his voice calls pleadingly, "take this same road; get in behind. i need your help with my world." selling all. and yet--and yet----. do you remember one time our lord turned to the crowds that were following and told them it would be better to count up the cost before deciding to be his disciples?[ ] he feared if they didn't there would be "mocking" by outsiders because his followers' lives didn't square with their profession. his fear seems to have been well founded. there seems to be quite a bit of that sort of mocking. it's better to count the cost, to know what following really means. a salvation army officer in calcutta tells about a young handsome hindu of an aristocratic family. one day he came in, drew out a new testament, and asked the meaning of the words, "sell whatsoever thou hast," in the story of the rich young ruler.[ ] the salvationist told him it meant that if a man's possessions stood in the way of his becoming a christian he must be willing, if need be, to dispose of them for the needy. to his surprise the young man quietly said, "i fear you don't understand." "do you want to be a christian?" "yes, but i'm not willing to sell all that i possess." after a little more talk the young indian left. sometime after he appeared at one of the salvation army meetings, and when the opportunity was given for those who would accept christ to kneel at the altar, at once he started forward. but instantly a storm broke out in the crowded meeting. a group of men rushed forward, shouting angrily, seized the young man and bore him bodily out while the crowd watched in terror. a few weeks later the young man turned up again, asking to be taken in and quietly saying, "i have begun to sell all." then his story came out. a bible had come into his hands; the character and call of the lord jesus made a great appeal to him. he was haunted by the words, "sell whatsoever thou hast." he felt he knew what it meant for him. his family heard of his interest in christianity. they belonged to the highest class, were wealthy and officially connected with the heathen temple-worship. they did their best to dissuade him, then finding that useless, they kept watch, and had him forcibly taken from the meeting where he was about to openly confess christ. the entreaties of his father and mother shook him greatly but failed to change his decision. he had been imprisoned, chained hand and foot, and scantily fed, but all to no purpose. then he managed to escape and came to the one christian place he knew, the salvation army, and asked to be taken in. after about two weeks he disappeared as abruptly as he came. then one day he came back, and told his salvation friend that he had been carried to benares, their holy city, and forced to bathe in the ganges. "but," he said, "as i stood in the water of the ganges, i said, 'lord jesus, wash me in thy precious blood,' and when i was forced to bow to idols, i bowed my soul to the eternal father and said, 'thou art god alone.'" his mother had implored him on her knees not to disgrace them; his tutor, whom he loved dearly, and his brothers had joined the father in their plea not to bring such shame on the family. "well," the salvationist said, "now, you know the meaning of 'sell whatsoever thou hast'" "not yet," he said, "but i have sold nearly all." again he came back and said quietly, "_i have sold all_." he appeared deeply grief-stricken, and yet there was a light shining in his eye. in answer to questions he said, "i have not only ceased to be a brahmin, i have ceased to be a human being. i am not only an outcast, i am dead. i have neither father, mother, brothers, nor sisters. i have been burned in effigy, and the ashes buried. it was not the effigy they burned; it was i. my father would not recognize me now if he met me on the street, nor would my mother. i am dead. i have been buried. it is the end. i have sold all."[ ] he had counted the cost. then though it meant so much, he followed. the rich young jew to whom the words were first spoken, saw _things_ bigger than jesus; the rich young hindu saw jesus bigger. each held to what he prized most, and let the other go. would it not be better if we were to count the cost, and then _deliberately_ decide? and if it be to follow, then follow _all the way?_ i want to talk a little later about what it means to follow. i hope this will help us a little in our calculations, in counting the cost before starting in to follow fully. and yet, and yet, may the vision of the lone man in the road, beckoning, flood our eyes while we count the cost, even as with the young hindu. what following means . a look ahead. . the main road. . the valleys. . the hilltops. . a look ahead saltless salt. the lord jesus never tried to make things look easier than they are. he wanted you to see the road just as it is, and asked you to look at it carefully. he knew this was the only right way to do. he knew that so the sinews would be grown in character that would stand the tests coming, and only so. it was never his plan to increase the numbers by cutting down the doorsills so men could get in more easily. that was a later arrangement. he was never concerned for numbers, but for right and truth. a man walking alone down the middle of the one true path was more to him, immensely more, than a great crowd wabbling along on the edge, half out, half in, neither in nor out, and so really out but not knowing it. if they were really out and knew it, it would be better, for they could see more distinctly the path they were not in, its straightness and attractiveness. this sort of thing grew more marked with our lord jesus as the end drew on, the tragic end. the crowds thickened about him those last months. they liked good bread, and plenty of it, and healed bodies, pain gone. and he liked to give them these. he helped just as far as they would let him. but he wanted to give them more. he knew this other was only temporary. he was more concerned about healing the spirit of its disease, and giving the more abundant life. and full well he knew that only the knife could help many. and the knife had to be freshly sharpened, and used with strong decisive hand, if healing and life were to come. and men haven't changed, nor the diseases that hurt their life, nor the master, nor the tender love of his heart. but there's more than knife; there's fulness of life following. he would have us get the life even though it means the knife. most times--every time, shall i say?--the life comes only through the knife. yet when the life has come, with its great tireless strength, and its deep breathing, and sheer delight of living, you are grateful for the knife that led the way to such life. one day our lord entered a vigorous protest against the wrong sort of salt,[ ] saltless salt, the sort that seemed to be salt, and you used it and depended on it, and then found how unsalty it was, for the thing you depended on it to preserve, had gone bad. the great need is for salty salt. there still seems to be a great lot of this saltless salt in use. it's labelled salt, and so it's used as salt, but it befools you. the saltiness has been lost out, and the man using it wakes up to find out how great is the loss, loss of what he thought he had salted, and loss of time, character and time, the character of that salted with saltless salt, and the time spent. it would be an immense clearing of the religious situation to-day on both sides of the atlantic, if the saltless salt could be got rid of, either by removing the unsaltiness in it--though that seems a hopeless task, it's so unsalty, and there is so much of it, and such a large proportion of it, and it's so well content with being just as unsalty as it is. _or_, the only other thing is put very simply and vigorously by the lord in a short intense sentence, "cast it out." out with it. and lots of it _is out_ so far as preservative usefulness is concerned. and yet with wondrous patience he puts up with a great deal of salt that seems to have nearly reached the utterly saltless stage, hoping to get rid of the unsaltiness, and then to give it a new saltiness. for, be it keenly marked, when the saltiness has quite gone out of the salt, when the preservative quality has quite gone out from that body of people which he has placed in the world as its moral preservative,--then look out. aye, "look up,"[ ] for that's the only direction from which any help can relieve the desperateness of the situation. and "lift up your heads," for then comes a new preservative to the rotting earth-life. but some of us will smell the smell of the decay before the new salt begins to work. the thing in us that wants things. it was along toward that tragic end, when the tension was tightening up to the snapping point, the bitter hatred of the leaders yet more bitter, the crowds yet denser, the terms of discipleship yet more plainly put with loving, faithful plainness, that a characteristic incident happened.[ ] a young man of gentle blood and breeding, and influential position, came eagerly, courteously elbowing his way through the crowd that gathered thick about. our lord had just risen from where he had been sitting teaching, when this young man, in his eagerness, came running to him. with deep reverence of spirit he knelt down in the road, and began asking about the true life, the secret of living it. our lord begins talking about being true in all his dealings with his fellow-men. the young man earnestly assured him that he had paid great attention to this, and felt that there was nothing lacking in him on this score. the utter sincerity and earnestness of his spirit was so clear that the master's love was drawn out to him. and he showed his love in a way characteristic of him in dealing with those who want to go to the whole length of the true road. that is, he talked very plainly to him. there were four things to do beforehand, he said, four starting steps into this life he was so eager to enter. four words tell the four steps: "go," "sell," "give," and "come." "go" meant the decisive starting in on this way; "sell" meant putting everything into the father's hand for his disposal as _he_ alone might choose. "give" meant using everything, everything you are, and have, and can influence, as _he_ bids you. "come" meant this new man, this decisive, emptied, now trusted man, trusted as a trustee, coming into a new personal relation with the lord jesus. the first three things were important because they revealed the man. but _the_ thing was that the man, this new-emptied and now god-trusted man, should come into personal touch with the lord jesus. the things he had and held on to came in between. when they no longer came in to separate, then, and only then, was he ready to get "in behind" and "follow" along the "same road." for this is the friendship road. only friends are allowed here, inner friends, those who come in by that gateway. there must be the personal touch. things that stand in the way of that must be straightened out. it was rather a startling answer. the young man was startled tremendously. the way to come in is first to go out. the way to get is first to give. the way to buy what you want is to sell what you have. that is to say, the way for this young man to get what he was so eager for was to get rid of what he already had. and yet it wasn't getting rid of the things the master was thinking about, but getting rid of the thing in him that wanted the things, getting rid of their hold upon him. our lord jesus wanted, and wants, free men, emptied men. he wants the strength in the man that the emptying and selling process gives. this is the laboratory where the unsaltiness is being burned out, and the new salty saltiness being generated, put in. this young fellow couldn't stand the test. so many can't. no, i'm getting the words wrong. he wouldn't stand it; so many won't. the slavery of _things_ was too much. the thing in him that wanted the things was stronger than the thing that wanted the true life. he was too weak to make that "go" decision. he belonged to the weakly fellowship of the saltless ones. they are not wholly saltless, but that's the chief thing that marks them. it's a long-lived fellowship, continuing to this day, with a large membership in good and regular standing. i think the real trouble with this fine-grained lovable young man was in his eyes, the way they looked, what they saw. it was a matter of seeing things in true perspective. he didn't get a good look at the man he asked his question of. he was looking so intently at the _things_ that he couldn't get the use of his eyes for a good look at the man. this is a very common eye-trouble. he was all right outward, toward his fellows, but he wasn't all right upward toward the father. and yet even that statement must be changed. for a man cannot be right with his fellows who is not right with god. when god doesn't have the passion of the heart, our fellows don't have all they should properly have from us; there is a lack. the common law may be kept, the pounds and yards may weigh and measure off fully what is due them from us, but the uncommon law, the love-law is not being kept. the warm spirit that should breathe out through all our dealings is lacking. it's been checked by the check in the upper movement. only the spirit that flows freely up, ever flows freely out. that young indian aristocrat we spoke of elsewhere got a sight of _jesus_. that settled _things_ for him, including even such sacred things as human loves. this young jewish aristocrat couldn't get his eyes off of the things. so many "thing"-slaves there are, so much "thing"-slavery. if only there were the sight of _his_ face! his _face_; torn? yes; scarred? yes again, but oh, the strength and light and love in it! do you remember that other young jewish, university-trained aristocrat? he got a look, one good long look-in-the-face look of _that face_, one day, on the road up to the northern syrian capital. the light of it flooded his face, and strangely affected him. he said "when i could not _see_ for the glory of that light."[ ] he couldn't see things for him. the sight of him blurred out the things. the great need to-day is for a sight of _him_. lord jesus, if thou wouldst show us thy "hands and feet" again, and torn face, even as in the upper room that resurrection evening,[ ] for that's what we are needing. and yet, thou art doing just that, but the things so hold our vision! and the master's answer is the same as to the young jew. we need the decisive "go"; the incisive, inclusive "sell"; the privileged "give"; the new-meaninged "come" into his presence. and then we may get "in behind" him, and follow close up in the "same road," with eyes for naught but himself. outstanding experiences. i want to follow the master's plan, and ask you to take a good look at his "follow me" road. you remember that we have had one talk together about the characteristics of our lord jesus' life. now we want to talk a little about _the experiences_ of his life. and i do not mean that we are to try to imitate these experiences, or any of them. the meaning goes much deeper than this, and yet it marks out a simpler road for our feet. i mean that as we actually go along with this master of ours, these experiences will work out in our lives. as we let him in as actual lord, and get our ears trained for his quiet voice, there will come to us some of the same things that come to him. the same spirit at work within us, and the same sort of a world at work without, will so work against each other as to produce certain other results, now as then. it is not to be an attempt at imitation; it's far more. it is to be _obedience_ on our part, a real presence within on his part, and a bitter antagonism without on the world's part; rhythmic full glad obedience, a sympathetic powerful real presence, a tense and intensifying subtle, relentless, but continually-being-thwarted opposition. the key-note for us is simple, full obedience. there were certain great outstanding experiences in our lord jesus' life. let us briefly notice what these were and group them together. there was _the bethlehem birth_. that was a thing altogether distinctive in itself. it was a supernatural birth, the spirit of god working along purely human lines, in a new special way, for a special purpose. it was a rare blending of god and man in the action of life. it was followed by _the nazareth life_; that was a commonplace life, lived in a commonplace village, but hallowed by the presence of the father, and sweetened by the salt of everything being done under that father's loving eye. the father's presence accepted as a real thing became the fragrance of that commonplace daily life. and this life covered most of those human years. then our lord turned from the hidden life of nazareth to the public ministry. at its beginning stands _the jordan baptism of power_. in the path of simple obedience he had gone to the jordan, taken a place among the crowds, and accepted john's baptism. and in this act of obedience, there comes the gracious act of his father's approval, the holy spirit came down upon him in gracious, almighty power. and from this moment he was under the sway of the spirit of power. this was the special preparation and fitting for all that was to follow. at once the spirit driveth him into the wilderness. and for forty days he goes through the great experience of _the wilderness temptation_. in intensity and in prolonged action, it was the greatest experience thus far in his life. he suffered, being tempted. it was a concentration of the continuous temptation of the following years of action. but the wilderness spelled out two words, temptation _and_ victory; temptation such as had never yet been brought, and met, and fought; victory beyond what the race had known. temptation came to have a new spelling for man, v-i-c-t-o-r-y. it came to have a new spelling for the tempter, d-e-f-e-a-t. after his virtual rejection by the nation as its messiah,[ ] and the imprisonment of him who stood nearest him as messiah,--john the herald, there followed _the galilean ministry_. for those brief years he was utterly absorbed in personally meeting and ministering to the crying needs of the crowds. compassion for needy men became the ruling under-passion. he was spent out in responding to the needs of men. it was not restricted to galilee, but that stands out as the chief scene of this tireless unceasing service. the galilean ministry meant a life spent in meeting personally the needs of men. in the midst of that, made increasingly difficult by the ever-increasing opposition, there came the experience of _the transfiguration mount_. it comes at a decisive turning point, where he is beginning the higher training of the twelve for the tragic ending, so surprising and wholly unexpected to them. for a brief moment the dazzling light within was allowed to shine through the garments of his humanity. what was within transfigured the outer, the human face and form. and the overwhelming outshining light was evidence to those three men of the divine glory, the more-than-human glory hidden away within this human man. then within a week of the end came _the gethsemane agony._ that was the lone, sore stress of spirit under the load of the sin of others. in gethsemane he went through in spirit what on the morrow he went through in actual experience. gethsemane was the beginning, the anticipation of calvary, so far as that could be anticipated. anticipation here was terrific; yet less terrific than the actual experience. and then came the climax, the overtopping experience of all for him, as for us, _the calvary cross._ there he died of his own free will. he died for us. he died that we might not die. he took upon himself what sin brings to us, while the father's face was hidden. so he freed us from the slavery of sin, made a way for us back to real life, and so touched our hearts by his love that we were willing to go back. and close upon the heels of that came _the burial in joseph's tomb_. the burial was the completion of the death. the tomb was the climax of the cross. he was actually dead and buried. the corn of wheat had fallen down into the ground and been covered up. there was nothing lacking to make full and clear that jesus had died. then came the stupendous experience of _the resurrection morning_. our lord jesus yielded to death fully and wholly. then he seized death by the throat and strangled it. he put death to death. then he quietly yielded to the upward gravity of his sinless life and rose up. he lived the dependent life even so far as yielding to death, and now the father quietly brought him back again to life, to a new life. and after waiting a while on earth among men, long enough to make it quite clear to his disciples that it was really himself really back again, he quietly yielded further to the upward gravity, and entered upon _the ascension life_, up in the father's presence. that life is one of intercession. he ever liveth to make intercession for us.[ ] he is our pleading advocate at the father's right hand.[ ] thirty years of the nazareth life, three and a half years of personal service, nineteen hundred years, almost, of praying. what an acted-out lesson to us on prayer, the big place it had and has with him, the true proportion of prayer to all else! these are the experiences of our lord jesus that stand out clear above the mountain range of his life. it was all a high mountain range; these are the great peaks jutting sharply up above the range. at the loom. now these peaks, these outstanding experiences, as you look at them a bit, seem to fall naturally into three groups. there were certain experiences of power and of privilege, the bethlehem birth, the jordan baptism, the nazareth life, and the galilean ministry. there were experiences of suffering and sacrifice, the wilderness temptation, the gethsemane agony, the calvary death, and the joseph's tomb of burial. and then there were certain experiences of gladness and great glory, the transfiguration mount, the resurrection morning, the ascension life, and, we shall find a fourth here also, a future experience, the kingdom reign and glory. these outstanding events, while distinct in themselves, are also representative of continual experiences. the jordan baptism stands not only for that event, but for the power throughout those forty and two months. the same sort of suffering that came in gethsemane had run all through his life, but is strongest in gethsemane. so each of these experiences is really like a peak resting upon the mountain range of constant similar experience. and these three groups of experience continuously intermingled, interlaced and interwoven, made up the pattern of that wondrous life. now these same experiences of his are also the great experiences that will characterize the "follow me" life, for every one who will follow fully. it will always remain true that these experiences were distinctive of him. they meant more to him than they will or can mean to any other. but it is also true that they will come to us in a degree that will mean everything to us. i want to change the figure of speech here. i think it will help. this invitation, "follow me," is the language of a road, the picture of one walking behind another in a road. and that will remain in our minds as the chief picture of this pleading call. but there's another bit of picture talking that will help. that is the picture of a weaver's loom, with the warp threads running lengthwise, the shuttle threads running crosswise, and the cross beam (or batten) driving each shuttle thread into place in the cloth with a sharp blow. these three groups of experiences are like so many hanks of threads in the loom, in which the pattern of life is being woven. the experiences of power and privilege are the warp threads running lengthwise of the loom, into which the others are woven. these make up the foundation of the fabric. the other two groups make up the shuttle threads, running crosswise, being woven into the warp. the experiences of suffering and sacrifice are the dark threads, the gray threads, sometimes quite black, and the red threads, blood red. the experiences of gladness and glory are the bright threads, yellow, golden, sunny threads. and the daily round of life, the decisions, the actual step after step in living out the decisions, the patient steady pushing on, is the beam that with sharp blow pushes each thread into its place in the fabric being woven. as we allow the same spirit that swayed our lord's life to control us, he will work out in us certain of these same experiences. and the enmity aroused, and working against that spirit's presence and control, will bring certain other experiences. our part will be simple obedience, listening, looking, studying quietness so as to insure keener ears and eyes--it's the quiet spirit that hears what he is saying--then obeying, using all the strength of will, and all the grace at our disposal, simply to hold steady and true, and to obey, no matter what threatens to come, or what actually does come. this will be found to be like weaving. probably you have often heard of how the weavers work in the famous gobelin tapestry factories in paris. they know nothing of the beauty of the pattern being woven. they work on the "wrong" side, the under side of the web. they miss the inspiration of seeing the rare beauty they themselves are making. all the weaver sees is the apparent tangle of many coloured threads and thread ends, while he thrusts in his needles according to the card of instructions. the more faithfully and skilfully he can follow the directions the better a piece of weaving work is done. we simply obey. we use all the strength we have, and the skill we can acquire, in obeying. we are not to depend on what we can see or feel for inspiration, only on the master looms-man; on his word, written, and spoken in our hearts, and on his answering peace within. obedience is the one key-note for all the music. surrender is the first act of full obedience. obedience is the habitual surrender. our part is to hear right and do what he bids. some day we shall be fairly swept off our feet by the beauty of the pattern he has been weaving--_if_ we've let him have his way at the loom. . the main road--experiences of power and privilege the bethlehem birth. there were four of these experiences in our lord's life. at the very beginning came _the bethlehem birth_. that meant for him a birth out of the usual course of nature, yet working within nature's usual processes. it was something more-than-the-natural coming down into the natural. the power of the holy spirit came upon the pure gentle maiden of nazareth and a new human life was begotten by him within her, and in due course came to the maturity of birth. this was a distinctive thing with jesus. now, in quite a different sense, but in a very real sense, there will be for us, too, a bethlehem birth. the holy spirit will come in and begin a new life within us. this is the only beginning of the "follow me" life for any of us. there's a something on the spirit's part before there can be a beginning on my part. yet that hardly tells the whole story. my part is really first; i open the door for him to come in. when i accept jesus as my saviour, that's opening the door. the spirit comes in and begins the new life within me. and yet there's another first before that first act of mine. he woos me with his patient, tender love. that is the first first. then i open the door: at once he comes in, and does the thing which only he can do. so begins the "follow me" life. this is the real, the only beginning. and yet there's more here of the practical sort than we have thought of, most of us. it means that there is within us a life higher than the natural life, and this higher life is to _be_ higher, it is to be the _controlling_ life. it is to hold the upper hand over the natural life. the control is to be from above. that is to say, the motives and desires of the upper life are to be dominant in my daily round. it is the father-pleasing life as contrasted with the natural life, of which we talked a while ago. wherever the two come in conflict, the upper is to rule. now, i know this rather runs across the grain of a good deal of our so-called christian life. there are a good many people who, let us really believe, have been "born again," to use the familiar phrase, yet they seem to have stayed in the being-born stage, the infancy stage. that which was "born again" in them seems not to have been developed. it has never been allowed to grow. the under life has been given the upper hand, and the upper life kept strictly down. the salt isn't salty. the common round of life is seasoned wholly by the old seasoning. our lord's "follow me" becomes a radical, decisive thing at the very start. it means that we will allow this new life of the spirit to grow into lusty vigour, and to become the controlling life so it will be the chief thing. all the life shall be directed and controlled _from above._ this is a result that will come of itself if we really follow. obedience, and back of that the quiet time on the knees with the book, will give food and air and growing space to this new life, and its growth will crowd down the other. the jordan baptism of power. then there was a _jordan baptism of power_ in our lord's life. this stood at the beginning of his leadership, his life-work, his service among men. as he came up out of the jordan waters he stood waiting in prayer. he was expecting something. his whole being was absorbed in the expectancy of what had been promised.[ ] and that expectancy was not disappointed. none that wait on god shall be put to confusion by any disappointment.[ ] the blue above was rift through, the holy spirit as a gentle dove came, and remained upon him, and the father's voice of pleased approval spoke to his grateful, obedient heart. from that time the whole control of his life was absolutely in the hands of the holy spirit. this does not mean an inert passivity on jesus' part; it meant a strong, intelligent yielding to the holy spirit. it does not mean that his natural faculties of mind and will and heart were held down, not to be used. it means that they were actively, studiously used in discerning the holy spirit's leading, and in doing as he directed. and it means that so there came a fulness of life, an increasing life, into his faculties, mind and will and heart. our lord jesus used all his powers in yielding to the inspiration and direction and control of the holy spirit, keeping ever open to his suggestion, and making that suggestion the law of his own action. and the spirit of omnipotence, working with the gentleness of a dove, breathed upon those yielded powers, and breathed through them, even as had been planned with the first breathing of this sort, in eden. so from the wilderness clear up to the last olivet command to the disciples, everything was done at the bidding, the direction of this spirit. and so the almighty power was breathed into every word and action and bit of suffering. the one key-note of the master's action was obedience; the result was the flooding of the spirit's omnipotence through his obedient faculties and life. now, _as we follow_, this same sort of experience will be ours. what a tremendous thing to say! yet the road was being beaten down for _our feet_. the son of man was simply showing to his brother-men the road we were all meant to go, showing it by going in it. all the power that came into jesus' life will come into ours, _if_ he is given his way. for the holy spirit is not measured out, either to him or to us,[ ] but poured out without stint.[ ] as we follow we shall be led along behind the man going before. there will need to be instruction, for we're so new to this road. and human teachers are sent by the holy spirit to help us understand, teachers in print, and teachers in shoes. there will need to be the initial act of full surrender to the lord jesus as lord indeed, for most of us have been going another way than this. there will need to be a house-cleaning time, for we have let in so much of another sort. a soft, but very honest, searching light will come flooding in through the sky-light windows. and as we instinctively go to our knees and faces because of what that light brings to light, there will be a wondrous cleansing, both by blood and by fire. then will come a filling of our very being by this wondrous spirit of god. how shall we know this filling, do you ask? there will be a quiet, deep peace, at times a great joy that sings, but ever the deep peace that _holds_ you, a new hunger for the old book, and a new soft light on its pages. there will be an inner drawing to talk with god, and an intense desire to please him, to find out what he wants you to do, and then to do it. there will come other things too, of a less pleasant sort, temptation will come anew, and a sense--sometimes very acute--of sin, a feeling that there's a something within you fighting you, the new you. there will be an increased sensitiveness to sin, and an intense hatred of it. this is what the filling means. these things will tell you that he, the spirit, has taken possession of what you surrendered, and that he is now at work within. these are his finger-prints. then there will be the outflowing side of this filling. a passion that all men may know this compassionate god, will come as a fire burning in your bones. its flames will envelop and go through everything you are and have and can do. but under all will be the passion for pleasing the lord jesus. obedience will become the chief thing, holding everything else in check, obedience to him, pleasing him, doing his will. the bethlehem birth is the _beginning_ of a new, a supernatural life within; _this_ will be the actual life itself, in full vigour and power. that is the supernatural birth, this the supernatural life. that is, there is at work within you, very quietly and simply, a power more than the natural, working through the natural order, and sometimes upsetting what we may have grown to think of as the natural order. this is the jordan baptism of power, the holy spirit taking charge, and you living a spirit-controlled life. there's a new sign hung out over your life, "this life is being conducted under new management." you won't say it; it won't be shouted out. it'll be louder yet. your _life_ will be telling it continually. power is in the current. the word to emphasize here is _control_. you will find new meanings, that you had not thought of, gradually working out of it. if the holy spirit had control of us as he had of--philip, for instance. he picked philip up out of the midst of the samaritan crowd, where he was the human centre of things, and put him down away off here in the desert,--_strange contrast!_--and with one lone traveller, greater contrast yet![ ] if he were free to pick you and me up like that, out of these surroundings, congenial and pleasant, and set us down where we had no thought of going, and never would have gone of our own choice, and we sing as we are picked up, _and_ keep on singing where we find ourselves amidst the uncongenial perhaps, the strange, the unprecedented and hard,--_if_ he were free to control like that these days, there would be a present-day pentecost beside which the acts-pentecost was but the beginnings of the throbbings of power. there are some peculiarities of this "follow me" road here. there comes a strangely new sense of proportion. as you follow close up behind the man ahead, you will grow _smaller_, and he will grow _larger_. no, that's not an accurate statement; you won't _grow_ any smaller, you will only find out how small you are. he won't grow any larger, you will simply be finding out, and then finding out more, how large he is. it'll seem strange to most of us, finding out our real size, or lack of the size we always supposed we were. but it will come with a great awing, heart-subduing sense, to find how marvellous in size this great man is; and yet he is our brother, as well as so immensely more. you come to find out that power, that thing that used to be so much talked about, and defined, and yet chiefly wondered about, that power is a matter of position. the man close in behind the lord jesus doesn't need to be concerned about power. in fact he isn't concerned about it, only concerned with keeping close in touch. all the rest comes without our being concerned. it comes from him, the man ahead. there is far more power, the very power of god, softly flowing and flooding its way in and through and out, than you are ever conscious of. others will know more of the power than you. you are thinking about the man ahead, keeping in touch, pleasing him. obedience has become a new word to you. it's the music of keeping step, keeping step with him. have you noticed how much the current of the stream will do for you if you are out in a row-boat? all you need to do is to keep up enough motion to hold the boat within the sweep of the current. then your chief task is _steering_. you're not concerned about power; only about the steering. there's more power in the current than you can ever use. your one concern is to keep out of the shallows and sucking side-eddies, away from snag and rock, and _in the current._ the power's in the current. right steering brings all that power to bear on your little boat. now, power here is a matter of steering, so far as our part is concerned. we steer to get into the current of our lord jesus' will, and, by his grace, we use all our will power in _keeping_ in that current, and out of the shallows and suction-eddies at the side. the lord jesus, once spit upon and crucified, now seated "far above all rule, and authority, and power, and dominion, and every name that is named," and _at work on earth through his holy spirit_,--this lord jesus, _free to do as he chooses_,--this is power. _he_ is power. power is the lord jesus in action, and the action is always through some man's life. we steer so as to keep in touch. he acts through the man in touch. and the hungry, needy crowds know a something coming to them, with irresistible grateful sweep. living a nazareth life. there was a third experience in this group. our lord jesus lived _the nazareth life_. in actual order of time this came before the baptism of power. i have changed the order here, and named it third simply for the practical help in the change. with the lord jesus, the whole of the life was under the sway of the holy spirit from birth on, through the earliest conscious years, and all the years. with us, in actual experience, we are all free to confess that it has not been so from our spirit-birth on. that baptism of power at jordan was without doubt a baptism of power for leadership and service. service and leadership ever need the time of special waiting on god, and the fresh anointing by the holy spirit's touch, the fresh consciousness of himself, as the only source of power in the service and leadership. in our actual experience the holy spirit, coming in power, has had much to do in changing our habits, ourselves, and our lives, as well as in our service. there has been so much service that has not been backed up by the life, that many have come to feel, and to feel very deeply, that the power in service must have its roots in the human side, deep down in the daily habit of life. with our lord jesus that jordan experience made no difference of this sort in his life. there was nothing needing to be changed. that nazareth life had been lived continuously under the control of the holy spirit. look a moment at that nazareth life of his. it means simply a commonplace, treadmill round of life lived under the hallowing touch of the father's presence. this was according to the original plan. it is god's presence recognized that hallows what is common. it is the absence of his presence, that is, the leaving of him out, that makes common things common; that is, it makes the familiar thing and round _seem_ and _feel_ common. it's the unhallowed and unhallowing touch of the selfish, of sin, that makes things seem common, in the sense of not being holy and sweet and pure and refreshing. sin makes things grow stale to you. selfishness affects your eye, the way things look to you. god's presence recognized keeps things fresh. his touch upon us, ever afresh, makes us fresh. everything we touch and see is touched by a god-freshened hand, and seen through a god-freshened eye. now jesus lived this commonplace round of life, and lived it under the ever-freshening touch of his father's presence. it isn't the thing you do, nor the things that surround you, that make your life, but the spirit that breathes out of you in the midst of the things. it's the _you_ in you that makes the life, regardless of surroundings. the outer things are the accidents, you, the spirit that breathes out of you,--this is the real thing. jesus _lived_ it. that is the tremendous fact that nazareth stands for. he lived what he taught, and he lived it first, and he lived it far more deeply and really than it could be taught to others. this was the basis of those few service years. nazareth lies under the galilean ministry. there were thirty years under the three-and-a-half-years. and the thirty years crop up into and out of the three-and-a-half. the life lived was the great fact at work, as the man went about doing good. the hidden life of nazareth lies open in the galilean ministry. when you are reading the wonderful works among the needy throngs, you are reading the biography of the nazareth years, in their outer reach. the life you live is the thing that tells! this is the meaning of the thirty hidden years. the father said, "my son shall spend most of his years down there _living_, just living a true, simple eden life; living with me in the midst of home and carpenter shop and village." this is what the world needs so much to be taught, how to live. and the teaching must be by living, teaching by action. the message must be lived. if we men might live jesus! that's what the world needs. at one of the smaller meetings of the edinburgh conference, in , a christian gentleman from india, native of that land, said, "we don't need more bibles in india." and then to this surprising statement, he added, "we have enough bibles. if the christians in india would _live the bible_, india would be converted." and i thought, that will do for america, and england, and for all the world. _jesus lived it_. as a man in his decisions and actions, his habits and daily round, he lived the truth. the story is told of a missionary in some part of africa who had not had much success in his work. he was in the habit of explaining some portion of the new testament to the people at his house. one day the portion contained the words, "give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn thou not away."[ ] the people asked him if this meant what it said. he told them that it did. one of them said he would like to have the table, pointing to it; another asked for a chair, another for the bed, and so on. the missionary was rather startled at such literal taking of his teaching. he told them to come again on the morrow, and he would give his answer. when they had gone, he and his wife had rather a heart-searching time together. they felt they had not reached the hearts of the people yet. but to do as they asked meant real sacrifice of a very personal sort. at last with much prayer they decided to meet the people where they had opened the way. and so the next day they gave their answer, and soon the house was literally bare of all its furnishings. and that night they slept on the floor, yet with a sweet peace in their hearts in the midst of this strange experience. the next day the people came back, carrying the furniture. they had really been testing these new-comers. "now," they said, "we believe you. you _live_ your book. we want you to teach us." and with open hearts they listened anew to the gospel story, and many of them accepted christ. the little incident reveals the unity of the race. those africans said what england and america and all the world is saying, "_live it_." is your religion _livable_? what the world needs to-day is _a jesus lived_, not simply taught, nor preached about, but lived in the power of the holy spirit. how the fire, the holy fire, of that sort of thing would catch and spread! oh, yes, it might mean sleeping on the bare floor! that's what living-it means, the actual life overriding any mere thing that stands in the way. live it. i stood one day on the abrupt edge of a little hill in a southern japanese city. there, in a great tree hanging out over the edge, had hung the bell that called together the faithful retainers of the lord of the province, when they were needed. there, nearly thirty years ago, a little band of japanese youth, of noble families, had gone out at break of day one sabbath morning, and solemnly covenanted to follow the lord jesus, and to devote their lives to making him known throughout their land. boys still in their tender teens most of them were. and that covenant was not lightly made, for already the fires of persecution had been kindled, and these fires burned fiercely but could not compete with the fire in their hearts. and as one goes up and down the island empire of the pacific to-day, he can find traces of their lives cropping up everywhere, like gold veins above the soil. and as i sought to trace the hidden springs of the power at work behind all this, i found it was in the _life_ of one young man, a simple, holy life burning with a passion for jesus. in this life could be found the kindling of the tender flames burning so hotly in these young hearts. he was a young american officer engaged, by the feudal lord of the province, to teach military tactics and english. he dared not teach christianity; that would have meant instant dismissal. so for two years he _lived_ the message, so simply and lovingly that he won the love of his pupils. then they came sundays to his house to hear him read the english bible, because they loved him. as he prayed the tears would run down his face, and they laughed to think a _man_ would weep, but they came because they loved him. he really _loved them into the christian life_. i was reminded of the line in hezekiah's song of thanksgiving after his illness, "thou hast loved my soul up from the pit."[ ] this young teacher _lived his pupils to the lord jesus_. the latter part of his life was a sad one, but nothing can change the record of those earlier years. i saw recently a news item telling how many million copies of the bible are being printed every year. the item slurringly remarked that the statisticians didn't seem concerned yet with figuring up how many of them were read. but, i thought, what these bibles need is a new binding. this bible i carry is bound in the best sealskin, with kid-lining. it is supposed to be the best binding for hard wear. but there's a much better sort of leather than that for bible binding; i mean _shoe leather_. the people want the bible bound in shoe leather. when we tread this bible out in our daily walk, when what we are becomes an illustrated copy of the bible, the greatest revival the earth has known will come. with utmost reverence let me say that our lord jesus wants to come and walk around in our shoes, and live inside our garments, and touch men through us. i remember something in my early christian life that was a sore temptation to me. there were some christian leaders who had helped me greatly by their preaching and writings. then it chanced that i was thrown into personal contact with them, now one, now another. and i had a sore disappointment. it's hard to find that your idol has clay feet. it's doubtless wrong to have idols. yet youth is the time of such idol worship. the disappointment was a very sore one. then out of it i was led to see that the master never disappoints. and there was a drawing nearer to himself alone. and then a questioning arose: was some one perhaps looking at me? and a burning desire came to be more in life than in speech, not only for the sake of some one, perchance looking; but for the sake of that other one, the man with eyes of flame, his looking. i need hardly tell you that it has been my blessed privilege to have had personal contact with leaders whose fragrant lives are so much more than word or act. the nazareth life means that the lord jesus lived his message, amid commonplace surroundings, in the midst of what is called the dull monotony of the daily round. that is, in the place where it is hardest to do it, he lived every bit of what he taught. and as we follow, simply, obediently, the spirit will lead us along this same road. the same experience will happen to us. could there be a greater evidence of the power of this holy spirit than to do such a thing with such as we know ourselves to be? yet he will, _if_ we let him. a big "if" you say? but not too big to be taken out of the way, out of his way. he will live out through us what he puts into us, by and with our constant consent. this is the meaning of the nazareth life. our part is obedience, simple, intelligent, strong obedience to him. the result will be this same experience, a nazareth life of purity and power lived by the spirit's power. this was the thought in the mind of horatius bonar, as he wrote of the unnamed woman who anointed our lord's head, and of whom jesus said that what she had done should be told as a memorial of her, wherever the gospel should be preached. "up and away like dew in the morning, soaring from earth to its home in the sun, so let me steal away, gently and lovingly, only remembered by what i have done. my name and my place and my tomb all forgotten, the brief race of time well and patiently run, so let me pass away peacefully, silently, only remembered by what i have done. gladly away from this toil would i hasten, up to the crown that for me has been won, unthought of by man in reward and in praises, only remembered by what i have done. up and away like the odours of sunset that sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on, so be my life--a thing _felt_ but not noticed, and i but remembered by what i have done. yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness, when the flowers that it comes from are closed up and gone, so would i be to this world's weary dwellers, only remembered by what i have done. i need not be missed if my life has been bearing, as the summer and autumn move silently on, the bloom and the fruit and the seed of its season; i still am remembered by what i have done. i need not be missed if another succeed me, to reap down these fields that in spring i have sown; he who ploughed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper; he is only remembered by what he has done. not myself but the truth that in life i have spoken, not myself but the seed in life i have sown, shall pass on to ages--all about _me_ forgotten, save the truth i have spoken, the things i have done. so let my living be, so be my dying, so let my name be emblazoned, unknown,-- unraised and unmissed i shall still be remembered, yes,--but remembered by what i have done." the galilean ministry. the fourth experience in this group was _the galilean ministry_. our lord jesus gave himself up to helping those in need. he devoted himself to personal service among men. after john's imprisonment he withdrew to galilee and ministered to the needy. there were crowds of them. they were in sorest need of body and spirit. and he gave himself freely out to them in glad helpful service. he met their need. he did whatever their condition called for. he ministered to their bodily needs. he mingled among them freely as an older brother or friend, holding their children on his knees while he talked with them over their concerns and troubles. but he didn't stop there. having won their hearts, he met their deeper needs. he comforted their hearts, talked to them one by one, drawing out their hearts, and speaking of the father. and as the crowds thickened, he taught and preached to the multitudes. he was a preacher, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom. he was a teacher, bit by bit, line upon line, patiently teaching and explaining to them about the father's love, and about the true life and how to live it. three words are used several times to characterize that galilean ministry, teaching and preaching and healing.[ ] he warned against sin, patiently wooing erring men and women away from their sin into lives of purity, and strengthening the young and earnest in their purposes. the need of the crowd swept him like a strong wind in the young trees. he couldn't resist their plea. the presence of a man in need, of either body or spirit, took hold of his heart. over and over we are told that he was "moved with compassion." what a life it was! what a heart he had! now our lord jesus calls us along this bit of the road. that is to say, the holy spirit within us will make our hearts tender and compassionate, even as our lord jesus was. the crowds always moved him tremendously. he couldn't stand the great dumb cry that the mere presence of a multitude rang in his ears. the mere presence of some one in need, earnestly seeking, played upon the strings of his heart. does the crowd get hold of your heart as you elbow your way through them, or look down into their faces? is it just a crowd to you? or is it a great company of hungry hearts, half-starved lives, so needy for what only this lord jesus can give? the dumb cry of the crowds, in crowds and one by one, comes up in our ears to-day. do you hear it? i say "dumb," for they don't know themselves what it is they need. they feel the need. restless and chafing, they feel without knowing just what it is they lack and need. when the spirit that swayed the lord jesus comes in, he mightily affects your heart. you feel with something of our lord's feeling. and you _must_ help. you know that the one thing, the only thing, that can really radically meet their need is this saviour jesus. you must do something to get them really to know him. and that something comes to be everything. service isn't a pastime; it's a passion. that "must" sends you out on glad unheralded errands to help in any way you can, and in every way by which the jesus message can get to them. the "must" of his tender passion within keeps you steadily pushing ahead, regardless of not being understood by some, nor your efforts appreciated by others. the flame of that "must" takes hold of time and strength and possessions. it becomes the delight of your life to minister to the needs of men, even as he did. you see them through his eyes. you feel their need through his heart. _and_--this is a great _and_--if you really follow as simply and fully as he leads, you will find _the same power_ working out through your effort as through his, though there will be immensely more of it than you will know about. but--there's a "but" that needs to be put in here--the key-note will not be service, but _obedience_. the need will not be the controlling thing. it will move you tremendously; it will kindle a sweet fever in your heart, a fever to help; it will take hold of your heart strings and play upon them until you almost lose control. but it must not be allowed to control. that belongs to him alone. the key-note is not need, nor service to meet the need, but obedience. there is a lord to the harvest. his plans are worked carefully out. he takes philip away from the crowded meetings in samaria to talk with one man. it was doubtless a strategic move to touch lives in africa, as well as to meet this one man's need. he feels the need more than you ever do or can. his ears are keener, his heart more tender. he is in command. you do as he bids. so you help most in meeting the need. he himself when down here left the crowds, when they were so great that the towns were overwhelmed and they had to be taken out to the country places. he would leave these crowds and go off quietly to get alone with his father.[ ] all that tireless ministry was under the direction of another. he went off for close touch, and fresh consultation with his father. the father's image in the common crowd. have you ever wondered what there was in those common crowds to attract our lord jesus? perhaps if you have ever walked in those narrow crowded alleys called streets, in china or japan, you may have wondered, sometimes. tired, dirty, pinched faces, eyes vacantly staring, or else fired with low passion, high-keyed voices bickering and jangling,--all this crowds in and out on every hand. dirt, disease, low passion, selfishness, apparent absence of anything noble or refined, are all tangled inextricably up with these in human form. and our lord jesus lived in an oriental world. is there any world quite like it, except indeed it be the slums of our western world cities, european and american? city slums seem to be our western point of contact with the greater part of the eastern world. what was there to attract the lord jesus to these crowds? their need, you answer. yes, no doubt, their terrible need did move him with compassion, to the hurting point. but was there more than this? something he said one time has made me think there was something more, a pathetic, tremendous more, that took hold of his heart. could it be that he saw some lingering trace of the father's face in these faces? his eyes were very keen. he had seeing eyes. and these men have all been made in the father's image. has that image ever been wholly lost?--terribly blurred and scarred by sin, yes; but wholly lost? do you think so? i think not. those wondrous eyes of his looking into men's tired, pinched faces, disfigured with passion or sorrow, or with sheer weariness of existence--did he see something of the father's face looking appealingly up to be helped out of their sad plight? i wonder. was it as though the father's face cried out to him out of these poor beaten faces? i think so. do you remember that time when our lord jesus associated himself so closely with just such men and women, in talking of a coming day? he says "inasmuch as ye did it to one of these my brethren, these least, ye did it unto me."[ ] listen to those words, "my brethren"! he is thinking of just such crowds as he himself ministered to, and as you find to-day in oriental city and in european and american slum. what is done for them is done to him. their need is his need; their cry, his. it's jesus coming to us in these crowds. their need is jesus himself appealing to us. and the jesus within us will answer with heart and life to this jesus coming to us in the pitiable need of the crowds. i do not mean to use that word "pitiable" chiefly in the bodily sense, though there's so much of that. but it has a deeper meaning. here is this fair young face turned to yours in the social group, here this strong young man needing nothing that money can buy, but yet very needy, both of them. in their young, eager faces the hidden away image, the not-yet-touched-into-new-life image of the father looks out asking for help, help out into growth amidst so much that holds back. inasmuch as your light, tactful touch is given here, it is done unto jesus. jesus is helped into the life, the god-image crowded back within is helped to get out into free expression. you may not be sent to some distant field as young borden was. your personal place may be at home. but the crowd, the need, is everywhere; at home, in the social circle, and among the men driven by the passion for business and for pleasure, in this dangerously prosperous land of ours. need of body even here, and deeper need of spirit. much more tact is required, spirit-born tact and patience and alertness, to touch and help these. but the spirit will guide. he has a passion for men in their need. he has exquisite tact in touching men under all circumstances. he will take command of your life here as elsewhere. he will lead you into a life of personal service in helping men. and he will lead you _in_ that service. this is the galilean ministry which will work out in your experience as the holy spirit has control. this is a bit of the "follow me" roadway. these are the four experiences of power and privilege. they are as the great underlying experiences of our lord's career. the other experiences grew up out of these. these were the warp threads in the loom of his life. the others were woven into these. this is the main road that he trod. it is the main road of this "follow me" journey. it is along this road, between its beginning and end, that we shall run down into the valley-road stretches, and run up to the stretches along the hilltops. . the valleys--experiences of suffering and sacrifice the never-absent minor. here the road begins to drop down into the valleys. it runs sharply down, and on, through some wild gulches and ravines thick with lurking danger, with the upper-lights almost lost in the deep black darkness. it is darkness that can be felt more than the egyptian darkness ever was. it proves to be the valley of the shadow of death, then--of death itself, before the upward turn comes. the weaver we were speaking of finds some strange shuttle-threads to be woven into the pattern, gray black, ugly black threads, and red threads almost wet and sticky in their blood-like redness. yet this is part of the road that was trodden, and that is still waiting to be trodden by feet sturdy and bold enough to go on down into the shadows, before the upward turn is reached again. and these threads will work out a rare beauty in the pattern being woven. is there perfect music without the underchording of the minor? not to human ears. for they are attuned to life as it has really come to be. and the minor chord is in real life, never quite absent; and the minor chord is in the true human heart, never wholly absent. and only the music with the minor blended in is the real music of human life. only it can play upon the finest strings of the human heart. but this sort of thing, the getting of beauty out of ugly threads, the getting of music where there is discord, the upward turn again of the valley road, all this is a bit of the touch of god upon life, where the hurt of sin has come in. only the lord jesus can make music where sin had brought in and wrought out such discord. only he can change the weaving into beauty, where the ugly slimy sin-threads have come in. he can lead up again out of the depths, but only he. his blood, himself, is the thing added that makes music where no melody had ever been a possible thing; and gives the weaver's threads the transforming touch that works beauty where there was only the ugly; and pulls you up again to the higher levels. the good never comes out of bad. it comes only by something radically different coming in and overcoming the bad. in seoul they showed us the great bell hung at the crossing of certain chief streets there. and then they told us the bell's legend. in early twilight times an artisan had made a great bell at the king's command, but the tone of it was not pleasing to the royal ears. so a second one was made, and a third, but neither was satisfactory. then the king said that if the man did not make a bell with pleasing tones his life should be forfeited for his failure. this was very distressing for the poor unfortunate bell-moulder. his daughter, a young girl in her teens, either had a vision, or felt within herself that a sacrifice was the thing needful to give the bell its true tone. and so she resolved to give herself to save her father, and with rare fortitude one night she plunged into the great pot of molten metal. and the tone of the bell was so sweet and musical that the king was delighted. and the maker, instead of being killed, was highly honoured. so ran the simple bit of korean folklore. we ran across legends quite like it in other parts of the orient. they all seemed to point, with other similar evidence, to the feeling deep down in human consciousness of the need of sacrifice. is it a bit of an innate instinct in our common human nature, that only through sacrifice can the hurt of life be healed? however this be, it certainly is true, that the touch of him who gave his life clear out for men, that touch is the thing, and the only thing, that can make music where there was only discord. it is only his pierced hand upon weaver and web that touches ugly threads into beauty as they are woven into the fabric of life. only he can lead us up out of the valley of death up to the road of life along the high hilltops. the wilderness. you remember, there were four experiences of suffering and sacrifice in our lord jesus' life. the first of these was _the wilderness temptation_. that rough road he took led straight to and through a wilderness. he was tempted. he was tempted like as we are. he was tempted more cunningly and stormily than we ever have been. it was a pitched battle, planned for carefully, and fought with all the desperateness of the evil one at bay against overwhelming forces. it was planned by the holy spirit, and fought out by our lord in the spirit's strength. for forty full lone days it ran its terrific course. but our lord's line of defence never flinched. the wilderness and waterloo, those two terrific matchings of strength, the one of the spirit, the other of the physical, both were fought out on the same lines. wellington's only plan for that battle was to _stand_, to resist every attempt to break his lines all that fateful day. the french did the attacking all day, until wellington's famous charge came at its close. our lord jesus' only plan for the wilderness battle was to _stand_, having done all to stand, to resist every effort to move him a hair's breadth from his position. that battle brought him great suffering; it took, and it tested, all his strength of discernment, and decision, of determined set persistence, and of dependent, deep-breathed praying. and through these the gracious power of the spirit worked, and so the victory, full joyous victory, came. now it comes as a surprise to some of us to find that the "follow me" road leads straight to the same wilderness. no, it is not just the same, none of these experiences mean as much to us as they did to him. they are always less. but then they mean everything to us! we will be tempted. so surely as one sets himself to follow the blessed master, there's one thing he can always count upon--temptation. sooner or later it will come, usually sooner and later. so the evil one serves notice to contest our allegiance to the new master. the tempter sees to it that you are tempted. that belongs to his side of the conflict. and quickly and skilfully, and with good heart he goes at his task. through the weak or evil impulses and desires within us, and through every avenue without, those dearest to us, and every other, he will begin and continue his cunning approaches. it is well to understand this clearly, and so be ready. the closer you follow this man ahead, the more, and the more surely, will you be tempted. it is one of the things you can count on--temptation. but, steady there, steady! the tempter can't go a step beyond attacking, without your help. he can't make a single break in your lines from without. the only knob to the door of your life is on the _inside_. temptation never gets in without help from within. i have said that the wilderness spelled two words for our lord jesus, temptation _and_ victory. we may use his spelling if we will. a temptation is a chance for a victory. begin singing when temptation comes; out of it, resisted, comes a new steadiness in step, and a new confidence in the victorious man of the wilderness.[ ] but let me tell you _how_ the victory comes. it comes through our lord jesus. and it comes by his working _through your decision_ to resist to the last ditch. "lead us not." the lord jesus gave us two special temptation prayers to make. the one is: "lead us not into temptation."[ ] that petition has been a practical puzzle to many of us, and the explanations not always quite clear. would god lead us into temptation? we instinctively ask. and the answer seems to be both "yes" and "no." the "yes" means that character can come only through right choice. we must decide what our attitude toward wrong shall be. it is only temptation resisted that makes the beginnings of strength. before temptation comes there may be innocence but never virtue. innocence resisting temptation becomes virtue. the temptation is the intense fire in which the raw iron of innocence changes into the toughened, tempered steel of virtue. it is essential to character that it resist the wrong. it is choice that makes character. the angels in the presence of god are continually choosing to remain loyal to him. choice includes choosing not to choose the evil, to refuse it. adam was tempted; the temptation was bad, only bad; but it could have been made an opportunity to rise up into newness of strength. job was led into temptation, and he failed when the fires grew in heat, and touched him close enough; and then he learned new dependence on god alone instead of on his own integrity. that's the "yes" side of the answer. we must decide what we will do with evil. the presence of evil forces choice upon us. the one thing god longs for is our choice, free and full choice. freedom of choice is the image of god in which every man is made. we are like him in _power_, in the right to choose; we become like him in _character_ when we choose only the right. god would lead us into opportunity for the choice on which everything else hinges. the prayer says: "lead us not into temptation." the prayer becomes the choice. it reveals the decision of your heart. the man who thoughtfully makes the prayer makes the choice. and with that goes the "no" side. certainly god would not lead us into the temptation to do wrong.[ ] and so he has made a way--it's a new way since our lord jesus was here--a way by which we can have the full opportunity for choice, and yet be sure of always choosing the right, and so growing into his image in character. to pray, "lead us not into temptation," is practically saying, "i will go as thou leadest. lead me. i am willing to be led. i was not ever thus, nor _prayed_ that thou shouldst lead me on. i loved to choose and see my path, but now--but now, lead _thou_ me on. here i am, willing to be led. i put out my hands for thee to grasp and lead where thou wilt. i'll sing, 'where he may lead, i'll follow." this is the only safe road through the wilderness. we yield wholly to his control. may i say reverently, this was the way our lord entered and passed through the wilderness, wholly under the control of another--the holy spirit. he chose to yield to that control. the spirit acted through his yielding consent, and flooded in the power that brought the victory. even he in his purity needs so to do. how much more we in our absence of purity, and so absence of strength. "lead us not" means practically, that we get in behind this victorious lord jesus. we refuse to go alone. the wilderness spells only defeat for the man who goes alone. we must yield wholly to this great lone man who went before. we lean upon him. we trust him as saviour from the sin that temptation yielded to has already brought. we will trust his lead wholly now as temptation comes. we will stick close and be wholly pliant in his hands. this is the first temptation prayer our lord gives us. it means our utter surrender to his leadership. then there is a second prayer for temptation use: "watch and pray that ye _enter not_ into temptation."[ ] this goes with the other. it is the partner prayer. be ever on the watch, and pray, that you may not _enter_ into temptation. guard prayerfully against acting independently of your leader. watch against the temptation. watch yourself lest you be inclined to go off alone, to break away from his lead. for there will be only one result then, defeat. these two prayers together show the way to turn temptation into victory,--"lead not," "enter not." a temptation is a chance for a victory if you never meet it alone, but always under the lead of the great victor of the wilderness. then it may help to put the thing in another way. there are two steps in victory over temptation. the first is recognition. to recognize that the thing coming for decision is a temptation to something wrong,--that's the first step in victory. it pushes the temptation out into the open. you say plainly, "this is something to be resisted." the second step as you set yourself to resist is to plead the blood of the lord jesus. that means pleading his victory over the tempter. that's the getting in behind him and depending wholly upon him. "follow me" takes us into the wilderness, and leads us into victory there. there we will learn more about prayer, and music, and the master, and get new strength and courage on this stretch of the valley road. gethsemane. at the farther extreme of the service years, there came to the lord jesus the other three of these dark experiences, all three close together. on the night of the betrayal came _the gethsemane agony_. that was a very full evening. around the supper table they had gathered and talked, and the lord jesus had made his last, tender but fruitless effort to touch judas' heart by touching his feet. there was the long quiet heart-talk in the supper room after judas had gone out, "and it was night" for poor judas.[ ] then the talk continued as they walked across the city within view of the great brass vine on herod's temple, so beautiful in the light of the full moon. and then, as they walk through the narrow, shadowed streets, the shadows come into the lord jesus' spirit and words.[ ] now they are outside the wall of the city, out in the open, under the blue, and with upturned face, the great pleading prayer is breathed out.[ ] now they are across the kidron, and now in among the shadows of the huge olive trees of the garden called gethsemane. it's quite dark and late. he leaves the disciples to rest under the trees, and with the inner three he pushes a bit farther on. and now he pushes on quite alone in the farther lone recesses of the woods. and now the intensity of his spirit bends his body as he kneels, then is prostrate. and the agony is upon him. he is fighting out the battle of the morrow. he is sinless, but on the morrow he is to get under the load of a world's sin; no, it was yet more than that, he was to be himself reckoned and dealt with as sin itself. all the horror of that broke upon him under those trees, more intensely than it had yet. the brightness of the full moon made the shadows of the trees very dark and black, but they seemed as nothing to this awful inky black shadow of the sin load that would come, no longer in shadow but actually, on the morrow. the agony of it is upon him as he falls prostrate on the ground, under the tense strain of spirit. out of the struggle a bit of prayer reaches our awed ears, "_if it be possible_ let this cup pass away from me; yet not as i will, but as thou wilt." and so tense is the strain that an angel comes to strengthen. with what reverent touch must he have given his help. even after that the great drops of bloody sweat came. but now a calmer mood comes. the look full in the face of what was coming, the realizing more clearly how the father's plan must work out, these help to steady him. again a bit of prayer is heard, "since this cannot pass away; since only so can thy plan for the world be accomplished thy--will--be--done." the load of the world's sin almost broke his heart that dark night under the olives. it actually did break his heart on the morrow. this is the meaning of gethsemane, intense suffering of spirit because of the sin of others. and at first thought you say, surely there can be no following for any of us in this sore lonely experience of his. and there cannot. he was alone there as on the morrow. none of us can go through what he went through there. for, it was _for us_, and for our sin that he went through it. and yet there _is_ a following, if different in degree and in depth of meaning, yet a very real following. while gethsemane stands a lone experience for jesus, yet there will be _a_ gethsemane for him who follows fully where he asks us to go. there will be a real suffering of spirit because of the sin of others. we will see the world around us through those pure, seeing eyes of his. we will _feel_ the ravages of sin in those we touch, with something of the feeling of his heart. close walking with christ brings pain and it will bring it more, and more acutely. we will see sin as he does, in part. we will feel with our fellow-men toiling in its grip and snare as he did, in part. there will be sore suffering of spirit. this is the gethsemane experience, and it will not grow less but more. "'o god,' i cried, 'why may i not forget? these halt and hurt in life's hard battle throng me yet. am i their keeper? only i? to bear this constant burden of their grief and care? why must i suffer for the others' sin? would god my eyes had never opened been!' and the thorn-crowned and patient one replied, '_they thronged me too. i too have seen_.' 'but, lord, thy other children go at will,' i said, protesting still. 'they go, unheeding. but these sick and sad, these blind and orphan, yea and those that sin drag at my heart. for them i serve and groan. why is it? let me rest, lord. i _have_ tried--' he turned and looked at me: '_but i have died_!' 'but, lord, this ceaseless travail of my soul! this stress! this often fruitless toil these souls to win! they are not mine. i brought not forth this host of needy creatures, struggling, tempest-tossed-- they are not _mine_.' he looked at them--the look of one divine; he turned and looked at me. '_but they are mine_!' 'o god, i said, 'i understand at last. forgive! and henceforth i will bond-slave be to thy least, weakest, vilest ones; i would not more be free.' he smiled and said, '_it is to me_.'"[ ] the word gethsemane has not been used accurately sometimes. and it is not good that it is so, for it keeps us from appreciating what the real meaning is. in poetry and otherwise it has been used for some great experience of sorrow in which the soul has struggled alone. but there are two things in the gethsemane experience that give it a meaning quite different from such. the gethsemane sorrow is on account of the sin of others, _and_ it comes to us through our own consent, of our own action. we need not go through the gethsemane experience save as we make the choice that comes to include this. it is only as we _choose_ to follow fully, close up to his bleeding side, where the lord jesus is leading, that this experience of pain will come. moses knew what this meant. as he came from the presence of god in the mount the sin of the people seemed so terrible, that the fear that possibly it could not be forgiven unless he made some sacrifice sweeps over him and came out as a great sob.[ ] the sight of their sin brought sorest pain to his spirit. paul tells us there was a continual cutting of a knife at his heart because of his racial kinsfolk, their sin, their stubbornness in sin, the awful blight upon their lives.[ ] there was sore, lone, unspeakable pain of spirit because he felt so keenly the sin of others. this is the gethsemane experience. have you felt something like this as you have come in touch with the sin, the blighted lives, the wreckage of lives among both poor and rich, lower class and better? you will if you follow where he leads. calvary. then came the morrow. _the experience of calvary_ came hard on the heels of gethsemane. the pain of spirit became both pain of body and pain of spirit, intensified clear beyond what the night before had anticipated. how shall i trust myself to speak of that morrow, or you to listen? yet, let us hold still, and, for a great purpose, look at it again, if only for a moment, that the meaning of it, the flame of it may take fresh hold, and consume us anew. gethsemane was followed by a sleepless night, while bitter hate brought its utmost iniquity and persistence to hound this man to death. nine, of the next morning, found him hanging, nailed on the cross, crowned with the cruel mocking thorn crown. from nine till three he hung, while the strange darkness came down over all nature from noon till three, the blackness of midnight shutting out the brightness of noon. the father's presence was withdrawn. this tells the bitterness of the cross for jesus as does nothing else. it was out of a breaking heart that the cry was wrung, "my god, my god, why didst _thou_ forsake me?" when you can penetrate that darkness you may be able to tell how really jesus took our place, and suffered as sin for us,--not before. then with a great shout of victory he gave up his life. his great heart broke. he died. he died literally of a broken heart. the walls of that muscle were burst asunder by the terrific strain on his spirit. _he died for us_. he who so easily held off the murderous mob with their stones, now holds himself to that cross,--_for us_. this is the calvary experience. it can be felt, but never explained fully; words fail. it can be yielded to until our hearts are melted to sobs, but never fully told in its tenderness and strength to others. it can bring us down on knees and face at his feet as his love-slaves for ever,--so is its story best told to others. that breaking heart breaks ours. that pierced side pierces through all our stubborn resistance. that face haunts us. its scars tell of sin, ours. its patient eyes tell of love, his. was there ever such sin? was there ever such love? was there ever such a meeting of sin and purity, of love and hate, of god's best and satan's worst? surely there can be no following _here_! and, strange to say, the answer is both a "no," with a double underscoring of emphasis, and a "yes," that will come to have a like emphatic underlining. _no_, there can be no following. here, he is the lone man who went before. and he remains the lone man in what he did, and in the extent of his suffering. there is only one calvary. there was only the one whose death could settle the sin score for us men. it is only by his death for our sin that there is any way out of our sore plight of sin, and sin's own result. there the lord jesus did something that had to be done, for the father's sake; there he broke the slavery of our sin; there he broke our hearts by his love. there he stands utterly alone in what he did. calvary has no duplicate, nor ever can have. that is the emphatic "no" side of the answer. there can be no following on that road. and yet,--and yet, there can be. there is a "yes" side to the true, full answer. there will be a calvary experience for every one who really follows. his was _the_ calvary experience, ours is _a_ calvary experience. it does not mean what his meant for the world. but it enters into the marrow of our very being, and means everything to us. it means that as i really follow there will come to me experiences of sacrifice that will take the very life of my life--_if_ i do not pull back, but persist on following the beckoning hand. and it means too, that there will be in a secondary, a minor sense, a redemptive value in my suffering. that suffering will be a real thing in completing the work of some man's redemption. listen to paul. he has been writing to the corinthian christians in much detail, of the suffering he has been going through of both body and spirit, and then he adds, "_so then death working in me worketh life in you_."[ ] the same thought underlies that wonderful bit of tender, tactful pleading in the eleventh and twelfth chapters of the same letter. the same thing is put in a rather startling way in the epistle to the colossians,[ ] "i ... fill up on my part, in my flesh, _that which is lacking_ of the afflictions of christ for his body's sake, which is the church." this fits in with the thought in that word "began" in the beginning of the book of acts.[ ] in a very real sense our lord depends upon our faithful following to supplement among men the great thing which only he could do. paul knew _a_ calvary experience, and peter and john, and so has, and will, every one who follows the pierced hand that beckons. ask horace tracey pitkin at paotingfu if he understands this. and the china soil wet with his blood gives answer, and so do the lives of those who were won to christ through such suffering throughout china. ask david livingstone away in the inner heart of africa, and those whom no man can number in every nation, who have known this sort of thing by a bitter, sweet experience, some by violence, some by the yet more difficult daily giving out of the life in hidden away corners. the underground road. and hard following this came _the burial in joseph's tomb_. "christ died for our sins and ... he was buried."[ ] "joseph took the body, ... and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock, and he rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb."[ ] "the chief priests and the pharisees ... went, and made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone, the guard (of roman soldiers) being with them."[ ] out of that sealed tomb comes with the emphasis of action, the emphasis of death, this word, "except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth by itself alone."[ ] the only pathway of life is the underground road. for our lord, joseph's tomb made the death clear beyond doubt. the tomb was the climax of the death. he was dead and buried. for him who follows it means this, _a burial clear out of sight in the soil of the need of men's lives_. he who simply gets in behind and faithfully follows will find himself actually being buried in the needs of men. and only where there is such a burial can there come resurrection power into the life. i remember a friend in philadelphia, a young man who resigned an influential position to go out as a missionary in india. and another friend not at all in sympathy remarked sneeringly in my hearing, "he's gone to bury himself in india." he spoke more aptly than he knew. the years since have told what a blessed burial that was. for scores of lives in southern india have known the resurrection power of the lord jesus through his service. do you remember when the greeks came to philip with their great plea, "sir, we would see jesus"?[ ] whether really from greece, or greek-speaking people from elsewhere, or simply non-jewish people, they represented the outer, non-jewish world coming to jesus. the jew door was slammed violently in his face, but here was the great outer-world door opening. and he had come to a world! but instantly, across the vision so attractive to his eyes, there came another vision, never absent from his spirit those last weeks, the vision black and forbidding, of _a cross_. and he knew that only through this vision of a cross could the vision of a world coming be realized. and out of the sore stress of spirit, that for a few brief moments shook him, came the quietly spoken, tense words, "except a grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by itself alone." the road to greece is not over the sea here to the west, not the overland caravan route up north through asia minor; it is the road down through joseph's tomb. that was true for him. it was by that road that he so marvellously reached the greeks and all the world. and this is true for us. it is only by this road that we can reach out to the crowds with the reach-in that touches heart and life. these are the four experiences of suffering and sacrifice. this is the dip-down in the "follow me" road where it runs through a darkly shadowed valley. these are the dark and red shuttle-threads being woven into the web, by repeated sharp blows of the batten-beam. these are the minor chords that, coming up through the strains of music, give a peculiar sweetness to it. what is sacrifice? now you will note that the chief thing in all this is _sacrifice_. the chief thing in all of our lord's life, clear from bethlehem to calvary and the tomb, was sacrifice. it runs ever throughout; it finds its tremendous climax in the cross. and the word to put in here in quietest tone--the quietest is tensest, and goes in deepest--the word is this: _following means sacrifice_. it means sacrifice as really for the follower as for the lone man ahead. that word "sacrifice" has practically been dropped out of the dictionary of the christian church of the western world. it has not been wholly lost. there is much real sacrifice, no doubt, under the surface. but, in the main, it is one of the lost words in our generation of the church. we are rich, and increased in goods, and have need of nothing that we cannot provide by the lavish use of money; so we think. and the loss of that word explains the loss from our working dictionaries of another word, _power_. for the two words always go together. but please note what sacrifice means. for we may get confused in the use of words, and like the hebrews in isaiah's day call things by the wrong names.[ ] sacrifice does not merely mean suffering, though there may be much suffering included in it. but there may be suffering where there is no sacrifice. it does not mean privation, though there may be real painful privation in it. but again there may be much privation and pain without any element of sacrifice entering in. the heart of sacrifice is that it is voluntary, and that it really costs you something. it is something that would not come to you unless you decide to let it come. it is wholly within your power to keep it away, and it brings with it real pain or cost of some kind. sacrifice means doing something, or doing without something, that so help may come to another, even though it costs you some real personal suffering of spirit, or of body, or both, or lack of what you should have and would enjoy. and please note that sacrifice is _not_ the key-note of the "follow me" life. we are not to seek for sacrifice. perhaps that is quite a needless remark. we are not likely to seek for it. no one loves a cross any more than did peter, when he had the hardiness to rebuke his master.[ ] and yet we remember those earnest souls in earlier times, who shut themselves up behind monastic walls, and inflicted pain upon themselves by privation and by bodily self-infliction. and we cannot help admiring their earnestness and saintliness, even while we see how morbid was their conception of life, and how completely they got the true order reversed. and there can be found some here and there, among us to-day, with the same idea. but the key-note of the true life is not sacrifice. it is obedience. sacrifice is something coming in the pathway of obedience. there come the places and times where you cannot obey without making a sacrifice. obedience involves sacrifice. and the sacrifice may be of the very real, cutting, hurting sort, personally. the whole instinct of one's being is against it. this seems to be carrying things quite too far, we think. and so the test is on. the sacrifice is not sought. it is shrunk from with all the vigour of one's nature. obedience means that you go steadily on, no matter how it cuts, or how much it costs. and the motive under the obedience is usually the decisive thing. if that motive be a personal passion for the lord jesus, then you only wait long enough to be quite clear of his leading, of what he would have you do. and then you go on, regardless of the personal loss or pain to yourself. the key-note of the "follow me" music is obedience, simple, sane, poised, full obedience. how much it cost god. one day out in illinois, while visiting a small church college, i was told this story of one of the students. he had felt very deeply the need of the foreign mission lands, and the plea being made for men to volunteer to go out as missionaries. and after much thought and prayer he had decided to volunteer. but he felt he must first get his mother's consent. so he wrote of his purpose and asked if she were willing that he should go. in due time the reply came back. it was a mother's letter to her son, full of a mother's endearments. but the paper was marked with tear-stains. she gave her consent. she said, "i'm glad my boy wants to go, and i'm glad to have you go, but"--and here the writing was blurred with the teardrops that had plainly fallen as she wrote--"_i never knew before how much it cost god to give his son_." there was the whole story of sacrifice as it came to that mother. there was the sore need of the people in foreign lands for the gospel of christ. that need had not been met. the need in its sore pressure had become an emergency, largely an unappreciated emergency. the tragedy of an unmet emergency had moved the son's heart to action, under the touch of the holy spirit, and then it came to the mother's heart. the decision rested with her. her inner heart told her the master's desire. she obeyed, with exquisite pain in her heart over the separation, maybe separation for life, from her son. the key-note is obedience, even though it may mean cutting pain. the whole test of love and of life is in sacrifice yielded to as the need may come. in god's first plan of life there is no sacrifice. god never chooses sacrifice as his first choice for any one, not even for his son. but sin is here, an abnormal, foreign thing. life is shot through and through with its ugly markings. you can't go a foot's length down the pathway of obedience without finding the keen edge of a knife, freshly sharpened, held across the path with its cutting edge toward you, challenging your advance, doing its utmost to hold you back. and only as the breast is bared to the cutting until a bit of your red life stains the knife, only so can there be any of the power of god in, or through, or out of, your life. but turn that sentence around, and smile in your heart as you remember this, as you do push quietly on past the cutting knife, and say never a word about the knife or the sharp pain--the best folks never talk about their sacrifices, they are too intent on the man just ahead,--as a man so does, there come into his life a fire and a fragrance that burns and breathes out wherever he goes. it is sin that makes sacrifice. sin did the carpenter work on the cross, our sin. sin grew the thorns, and then served as weaver to make the mocking, cutting crown--our sin, yours and mine. love yields to the sacrifice, his love for us, his love in us for the others. sin is everywhere. its finger-print is in nature, and its scar on human life. and sin's ravages make cruel need, and need intensified makes emergency, and these involve sacrifice as we rise to meet need and emergency. and love is everywhere. that is, it would be, it will be, if it can find human feet to carry it. it will be if our lord may have his way. sacrifice is love's healing shadow. sacrifice is love giving the oil and wine of its own life to bind up the wounds that sin has made. the "follow me" road is marked red, so you trace his footprints who went ahead, and theirs who follow. what obedience has meant for some. but, no one can decide for another what obedience may mean for him. you may not tell me, nor i you. it is intensely interesting to note what obedience has meant to some. it led paul to give up inheritance and family prestige, social standing, fellowship in university circles, a home life of scholarly quiet and research, and to be reproached and ostracized, to be homeless having no certain abiding place, dependent on his own hands for daily bread, as he went burning like a flame from end to end of the roman world. and at the end it meant a prison, and block and axe. i met a rare christian nobleman in london, of an old, honoured family, of whom a friend told me this. this nobleman had a large inheritance. among other things a certain estate. he felt led to place the estate on the market, get the best possible return for it, and then with his shrewd business sense, prayerfully to place the proceeds where he felt they would help best the cause of christ. and to a friend who expressed appreciation and approval of such unusual action, he quietly said, "i want no praise for this; if the poor jew had to give one-tenth, surely a rich christian can do very much more." that was what obedience, at that point, meant to him. i knew a canadian woman who had been led to a higher level in her christian life. a friend put into her hands a bit of manuscript, to which she had access, thinking it would help her in her new life. the manuscript was read, and returned through the friend to its writer. he had intended having it published with some others, if a publisher could be found willing to accept it. then he had felt that he would do nothing with it until very clear leading came. he did not want to do anything, except as he was led. if the master wanted to use the writing, it was there if he chose to give the word for its use. sometime after as the woman was busy with her nursing work she was on night duty, and had her quiet time in an interval of the night's round. as she was reading her bible and praying, she said, "a voice said to me very quietly, 'send mr. blank twenty-five dollars to publish ----'" [naming the title of the article she had read]. twenty-five dollars taken out of her frugal savings would leave quite a hole. but the impression that came with the message was unmistakable. and so the money was sent. and it was received by the writer of the manuscript as the master's answer for which he had been waiting. and that was the beginning of some little books whose messages have been graciously used to bring help to many lives. her bit of obedience was a link in the chain, and so a bit of her life is in the printed messages the master has been using. the tracing of red was on the gold, and on the messages sent out. that was what obedience meant that time to her. and obedience usually has its hardest time when its struggle is over a bit of gold. a friend took us driving one day up in scotland, and told this story as we passed through a beautiful estate. a few generations back it belonged to one who followed fully. and in response to the clear inner leading the estate was sold, and the proceeds used in sending the message of a crucified, risen christ, out to the farther ends of the earth. it was at the same time that a like incident came personally to me of another scottish friend of our lord jesus. the beckoning call was so distinct, and the answering need so clear in its echo, that he planned a moderate annuity for the remainder of his life, and loosed out all the rest of his wealth on the same sort of errand. i do not say you should do something of this sort. and you may not tell me what i shall do. only the master has that privilege. but we can urge each other to have trained ears, and soft heart, and obedient will; ears for what the master is saying, a heart softened by the warmth of his, a will gladly obedient to his slightest wish. necessity--luxury. and our lord jesus speaks very distinctly, though so quietly. his meaning is unmistakably plain to listening ears. he is quite apt to take you off for a little walk and talk. what kind of a house do you live in? what proportion of your income do you spend on yourself? what is in those safety-deposit boxes? how much would it mean to him if your signature at the bottom of legal papers put some property at his disposal? take a look through your wardrobe; who and what controls there? no, i'm not talking about money, nor about missions, only about a personal passion for the lord jesus, and about the passion _in_ him for his world. "but," you say to yourself, "there's danger of going to extremes here, is there not?" yes, there is; you are quite right. extremes are bad, we should be on our guard against them. there is nothing more desirable in these days than sane, poised judgment, a sound mind. and be it keenly marked that the man who is really swayed by the holy spirit is peculiarly a sane, well-balanced man. that is one mark of the spirit's presence. yet there's more to be said. _our lord jesus went to extremes_. he went to a great extreme on the cross, did he not? is there any extreme like that of gethsemane? and calvary? it is because he went to such extremes, and the west knows about it, that the west is so radically different from the east, and that you and i are redeemed from the slavery of sin, with a sweet peace in our hearts, and so much happiness in our lives. the distressing thing is that there is so much of going to extremes. go through the christian homes of the western world to-day, and you find home appointments, wardrobes, safety-deposit boxes, bank books, title deeds, all spelling out one word, spelled in capital letters, extremes. but that key-note, named several times already, gives the only safe way--_obedience_. we need to be on our guard, not so much lest we go to extremes at either extreme, but that we _obey_ our lord jesus. that, and that only, leads to the wise, well-balanced judgment and action. obedience to him means true sanity. where do you draw the deciding line between necessity and luxury? how do you define those two words? what is necessity? and what is luxury? simple definitions help much in getting clear ideas. the dictionary says, a necessity is something you must have. and a luxury, in its root meaning, is an extravagance, something "wandering beyond the proper boundary." the trouble is to know how to draw the line when it comes to one's own affairs. there is such a big difference between what you want and what you need. and often we don't want to go into such distinctions. they might bother our consciences a bit. it seems difficult to keep one's poise in such things. some godly people go to extremes in not providing sufficiently for real needs. most of us go to the other extreme. where does the true dividing line come in? well, i think you can say truly that _whatever keeps up and adds to your strength_ can properly be called _a necessity_. all beyond that line is luxury. it is the part of wisdom to provide carefully and well for necessities. luxury is _bad_, for it really saps our strength. it makes a man less vigorous in every way. and yet more can be said. the question of need comes in. luxury is wrong because of the crying need of men for what the money spent in luxury would bring to them. i think chiefly now of the need of their lives for what can come only through a knowledge of christ. the bitter cry of the common people against louis xvi, at the time of the french revolution, was that the royal family lived on the costliest delicacies while many of the common people were actually starving. they thought that was the chief crime to be expiated at the guillotine. what is necessary for one's strength moves on a sliding scale. as years come, and the sort of work one does and his strength change, his needs increase. what might at one time have been reckoned luxury is now a real necessity for his best strength and work. _whatever ministers to one's strength is a necessity_. all above this becomes luxury, and so is both hurtful to strength, and wrong in itself. a missionary returning to his home-land, on furlough, noted on his first return home that what had been considered luxuries before he left, were now reckoned necessities; on his second furlough he noted again that what had been reckoned luxury on his first return was now counted necessity. and each return home found this condition repeating itself. it reminded me of the experience of sir john franklin in one of his arctic explorations. his ship was hemmed in by an ice-field so that progress was impossible. all he could do was to calculate his longitude and latitude, and wait. the next day he was still hemmed in, and so far as he could see, was exactly where he had been on the previous day. but on calculating longitude and latitude again, he was surprised to find that the ship had drifted several miles backward from the position of the previous day. it would be a sensible thing for us to make frequent calculations, and find out where we are, and prayerfully steer a changed course if we've been drifting. but we can't decide such questions for each other, and they can't be decided by what another does. they can only be decided alone on one's knees with the master, with the book, and perhaps a map of the world at hand. we need both the word of god, and a view of the world of god to shape our judgment. no, it's not a question of money primarily, nor of missions, only of personal loyalty to our lord jesus, and to the passion of his heart. grafted. have you noticed the significance of that word "abide" which our lord used on the night of his betrayal?[ ] "abide" means a grafting process; we were branches in the vine, but we were broken off by sin. the only way to abide in that vine is by being grafted in. "abide" means grafted. but the grafting process has two wounds. it means a knife used twice. it means a wound in the vine-stock, and our master flinched not there. it means likewise a wound in the branch to be grafted in. just as surely as the knife must make the incision into the stock, it must also cut the end of the branch before it can be grafted in. our master flinched not. how about you and me when it comes to the knife, with its sharp cutting edge, and slash and sting? perhaps this explains why there's so little life, so little sap-flow, so little fruit. if you follow along the narrow road your progress is sure to be barred by a knife thrust out across the path. and the whole instinct of our nature is to shrink from the knife. the sacrificial knife becomes the pruning, the grafting knife. there can be no life without that knife. failure to obey cuts off the supply of life. i became greatly interested in a young man whom i met in japan. he comes of a noble, wealthy family. he attended a mission school to study english, learned to read the bible, became intensely interested, and then decided to become a christian. but his family was violently opposed, and pleaded earnestly with him. he would in time be the head of his family, but if he insisted now on being a christian he would be disowned. he was to be trained in the imperial university, and could have chosen a public national career including the probability of membership in the imperial diet, but he remained true to his decision. and he was disowned in disgrace, cast adrift without a cent. now he is devoting himself to mission work in the city where i met him, working among the neediest and lowest. i was told that the police gladly say that his mission has greater power than they in preserving order in that worst quarter of the city. the night i stood by his side, speaking through his interpretation, a japanese policeman dragged up a couple of youths who had been giving trouble, and pushed them in, saying, "here's the place for you; now listen to that." and i have never been in a simple service where the quiet intense power of god was more marked. this is what obedience meant to him. and this too is what abiding meant. he yielded to the grafting knife, and the life of the vine-stock came flowing freely through, bearing abundant fruit. a few years ago i read a simple story in "the sunday-school times" that brought a lump in my throat. the writer told of a south-bound train stopping at a station near washington city. at the last moment, an old negro with white hair came hurriedly forward and clambered on the last coach as the train pulled out. he was very black, and very dusty, and single occupants of seats looked apprehensive as he shuffled along looking for a seat. but he did not offer to intrude, but stood at the end of the car, looking with big wondering eyes down the car. he was evidently very tired. then a young man offered him space in his seat, for which he seemed very grateful, and with child-like simplicity began talking. he was going back home "to georgy"; had been up in virginia for years with the rare old slave loyalty serving his old master between times, while earning his own way. now his master was dead and he was going back down to the old home state, "back to georgy," and the words came softly, while his hand tenderly patted the seat cushion. clearly georgia was the acme of happiness and content for him. as the train boy came through, the young man bought some sandwiches for the old negro. he was very grateful. yes, he _was_ hungry, and had walked several miles to get the train. he couldn't spend money for "victuals"; "money's too skase fur buying things on the road," he said, "i was 'lowin' ter fill up arter i done reach georgy." then the conductor came in for tickets. the black man anxiously fumbled through one pocket after another, and finally remembered that his ticket was pinned to the lining of his hat. "done tuk ebery cent i could scrape up to get dat ticket," he said, "but dat's all right. i kin wuk, an' fo'ks don' need money when dey's home." the conductor had passed on to the next seat behind. there sat a shabbily dressed woman, with anxious, frightened-looking face, the seat full of bundles and a pale-faced baby in arms. "tickets, please." the woman's face flushed red, and then grew white and set, as she said, "i haven't any." "have to get off then; save me the trouble of putting you off." the woman sprang up with terror in her big eyes, "don't put me off; my husband's dying; the doctor said he must go south; we've sold everything left to send him; now he's dying; i must go to him. but i have no money, don't put me off. my god--my god--if you--" her plea poured out in excited, jerky sentences. but the conductor could do nothing. he must obey his instructions, or be discharged. the woman sank back sobbing, in the seat. the conductor turned back to get the old negro's ticket. "i'se feared you'll have to put _me_ off, boss," he said humbly, "don't expect a pore ole nigger like me to raise enuf fur a ticket." the conductor harshly ordered him off the train at the next station, saying there was some excuse for the poor woman, but none for him. the train began to slow up for the station. the old negro quietly dropped his ticket into the lap of the woman, saying, "here's yo' ticket, missus. i do hopes yo' find dat husban' o' yourn ain' so bad as yo'se afeared." and before her dazed eyes could take in what he was doing, the old man had shuffled out of the car, and as the train pulled on he was seen quietly plodding along, still "bound for georgy." and there was no mention of christ in the story, but one who knows the old typical slave class to which he belongs needs not to be told of the motive down in his heart. that's what obedience, unanalyzed, undeliberated about, meant to him. have you ever worn the "georgy" shoes? have you ever tramped to "georgy"? if some of us might find out the old man's cobbler and get some "georgy" tramping shoes! the way of obedience is a way of sacrifice. . the hilltops--experiences of gladness and glory valley music. there was a third group of experiences in our lord jesus' life. but it will be good for us to remember that the third comes after the second. there can be no third until there has been a second. it is impossible to take first and third and omit the second. the third can come only after the second. there can be experiences of gladness and glory only to him who follows all the way. the hilltop experiences come after going down through the valley. and there is no way of reaching the hills except through the valley. but there is a hilltop roadway of exhilarating air and outlook for him who has been through the valley. the valley is only part of the way. there are heights, too, as well as depths. and if the depths have seemed very deep, yet remember the valley depth tells how high the height is. the only way up is down. and you go as high up as you have gone down, and then a bit higher. for you started down from the level of the main road, and you go up above the level. but you go up higher than you go down. the hilltops are higher above the main road than the valley is below. the glory comes to be more than the sacrifice. sacrifice is only one-half of a chapter, the first half; there is a second half, the musical half. there's a wondrous singing in the heart, even while the knife is cutting, such as only he knows who goes this way. there's a breeze from the hilltops that comes sweeping down through the trees, while you are slowly picking your way along the rough, narrow valley road. that breeze plays upon your inner strings and makes rare Ã�olian melody. it is the breeze of god playing upon the heart-strings of your soul. but _this_ music is heard only in _this_ valley road. lovers of music say there is nothing to compare with it. you remember the words, "who for the _joy_ that was set before him."[ ] ah, the joy! as the master's feet slipped down into the dark shadows--the shame, the cross, the tomb--there was something else under the pain he was suffering. there was a low underchording of sweet minor music, the rhythmic swinging of his will with his father's. and that music still sang as he slipped down quite out of sight under the cold waters of the river at the bottom of the gorge. the transfiguration mount. there were three of these glory experiences in our lord's life, with a fourth one yet to come. midway in the last year came _the transfiguration mount_. in a sore emergency, for the sake of the leaders of his little band of disciples, the inner glory of his being was allowed to shine out through his humanity. the glory of god shined out from within him. the usual fashion of his countenance was altered by the dazzling beauty-light shining out through it. and this too will be true of those who follow truly. as we live with our faces ever held open to him, the glory of his face will be reflected in ours, and we shall be changed more and more into his image.[ ] i have frequently told the story of the jurist who lived in our middle-west country two generations ago, a confirmed but honest sceptic, and who was converted by the _face_ of a fellow townsman. the sceptic became thoroughly convinced that the thing in his neighbour's face which so attracted him was his christian faith, and it was this that led the sceptic to accept christ. last year, i met out in the orient a kinswoman of the man with the convincing face. i remember distinctly one night, years ago, in northern missouri, a young woman waited at the close of a meeting with her friend. we talked and prayed together and she made the great decision. i can remember looking after the two as they went out, wondering to myself how much it meant to her. i could not judge from her demeanour. but the next night they were back again, and instantly i knew that it had meant much, everything, to her. the transfiguring peace was upon her face. i would have called her face plain the evening before. now it was really beautiful in the sweet clear light shining out of it. two things stand out sharply in my memory of ping yang, in korea. one is the visit to the home of a christian family, whose head was one of those being held in prison in the famous conspiracy case. i still feel the pathos of face and voice as the dear old mother, and the gentle wife, asked so eagerly, "when will he be back?" the other, was the faces of certain of the women in the church service there. i found myself time and again turning to look at their faces as i was speaking. there was a sweet light that transfigured their worn faces, and gave them a real beauty. it was the more striking against the background of the faces one sees in those oriental lands. the story has been told in various ways of the european artist sent to a salvation army meeting to make a caricature. he was an infidel, with a sinful life, an uneasy conscience, and a sore heart. but the faces he saw there of those redeemed out of the depths of sin, convinced him that they had what he needed, and what he afterwards got, at the same place as they, the feet of christ. one who has looked into the faces at some of the salvation army meetings has no trouble believing the story. now this is part of our master's great plan for reaching his world. he comes in to us, if we let him. he changes us as we yield to him. the beauty of this wondrous one within shines out of face and eyes, and touches those whom we touch. his presence transfigures when he is allowed to dominate. we are changed from within. though like moses and stephen we will not wist of the transfiguration, only of the great one whose presence within it is that makes the change. we know the peace and music within; others know more of the change in face and life. resurrection power--a present experience. there is a second experience in this group. in sharpest contrast with jacob's tomb stands out _the resurrection morning_. our lord jesus rose up out of death. the strongest bars that death could make--and surely every one of us has some sore experience of their strength in holding dear ones from us--those strongest bars were snapped, as a woman breaks the cotton thread in her sewing. our lord jesus rose up again into life, and into a new, a higher, a different sort of life. the personal identity was unchanged. his disciples recognized his voice and face and form, as they talked and ate with him. but the limitations were gone. the control of spirit over body was complete. and it is a bit of his gracious plan that we shall follow him here, too. when he returns in glory there will be a resurrection for those who have followed him. as he comes down on the clouds, the dead bodies of those who have the warm vital touch with him, that the word "believeth" stands for, will be touched into a new life and be reunited with the spirits that had lived in them. there will be a wondrous meeting in the air with himself, and an equally wondrous reunion in his presence of those bound to us and to him by ties of love. our personal identity will be the same, loved ones instantly recognizing loved ones. but the bodies will be of a new sort, free of all the limitations and weaknesses of our earth life. and our lord's return is peculiarly precious because it is the time of this change and reunion. but there is yet more than this. this is something future. there is a present meaning of the resurrection-life for us, to-day, if we'll accept it, and live in the power of it. there _may_ be the resurrection life and power coming into our bodies now. as the need comes, it is our privilege to look up, and ask for, and experience resurrection power coming down into our bodies, overcoming their weaknesses and diseased conditions. the subject of healing involves much more, for a full poised understanding of the scripture teaching, than can be satisfactorily talked over in the brief limits here. but the great fact can be thus simply stated, that there is full healing for our bodies by god's direct touch upon them. but this means on our part living a real faith life, looking up moment by moment, receiving from his hand constantly what is needed, and using it wholly for him. it is actually a living of the dependent life as regards the bodily needs. paul is clearly speaking of a present experience when he says, "if the spirit of him who raised up jesus from the dead dwelleth in you, he that raised up christ jesus from the dead shall give life also to your dying bodies by means of his spirit that dwelleth in you."[ ] but this resurrection power coming in to affect our bodily conditions is frequently in the midst of most difficult trying circumstances. it is as though a subtle hindering power were tenaciously at work, and this were being offset and overcome by the resurrection power. it was under just such circumstances that paul writes these words: "we who live are always delivered unto death for jesus' sake, _that the life also_--the resurrection life--_of jesus may be manifested in our dying bodies_."[ ] this as plainly means a present experience of power in our bodies, overcoming weakness, disease, and the tendency to death. this is the present meaning of the resurrection for us. but it is possible only for those who _will_ live the resurrection life of separation and of union; separation from all that separates from the closest union of life with our lord jesus. and it comes oftentimes through much conflict and difficulty. this bit of the road is much contested. the ascension life--power in possession. when our lord jesus had tarried long enough to make clear to his disciples his actual bodily resurrection, he ascended to the father's right hand, and was seated there in the place of highest honour and power. so he began living _the ascension life_. that means two things, it is the life of fullest power in actual possession; _and_ that power is exercised through prayer,[ ] his, and then--ours. through his intercession with the father, and through our intercession in christ's name, the power comes from the father through christ to us, and so through us. our lord jesus is eager to have us follow him here also. following this time means, actually using the power that has been placed at our disposal. it means receiving from his pierced hand all he has actually redeemed for us by his precious blood. there is so much that is ours by right that we do not take and use. some do not take because they don't live where they _can_ take. and some live where they can take, who yet do _not_ take. since the father thinks of us as risen with christ and seated with him in the place of highest power, we should seek to live up there, by his grace.[ ] the ascension life for us means simply living the actual life of power that has been made possible for us, and using that power through prayer. it helps to remember here just how much may be included in that word "prayer." one cannot be all the time on his knees, praying with his lips. and it certainly was not meant that we _should_ be. yet there can be prayer "without ceasing." prayer is an _act_, the kneeling, and giving voice to the desires of our hearts. then the act grows into a _habit_, as this becomes one of the fixed things of our daily round. and the habit full grown, becomes a _life_. all the life grows out of that bit of kneeling-time, and all the life is carried to it. the hidden springs of the life are here. and prayer becomes _a mental attitude_. you think of everything that comes up, opportunity, difficulty, emergency, crisis, plannings,--you instinctively come to think about each thing from the standpoint of the kneeling-time. and so prayer grows to be _an atmosphere_. you live your life in his presence to whom you kneel. he is always present. you come to recognize his presence, which means that his presence dominates all your life. he, this one whom you go to meet at the kneeling-time, he is _always_ here with you, listening to the unspoken thoughts. by and by you come instinctively to think your thoughts as in his presence. your longings, plannings, difficulties are held open before him. prayer becomes the atmosphere you breathe. and so prayer comes to be a _person. you_ are the prayer. the father looking down comes to recognize you, by your very attitude of heart, as a prayer, a continual, walking, living prayer, as you go quietly about your simple, homely round. and the powers of evil, too, so recognize it. and the man at the father's right hand recognizes in you one whom he has redeemed, and who, by his grace, would be and do and have, in actual life, all he has gotten for you. and through that six-fold continuous prayer, by the man who yields all, and reaches out _for_ all that is now his, the power of god is being continually loosened out among men, and the father's plan being worked out. so, our lord's ascension life at the father's right hand, finds its echo in the ascension life being lived by his follower on the earth. the coming glory. then comes the glorious future experience, _the kingdom reign and glory_. some day our lord jesus will rise up from his seat, and step again into the direct action of the affairs of earth. soon after that day he will begin reigning over the earth as its king. the later pages of the old testament are all aglow with the glory of that time. he shall reign from the mediterranean, at the centre of the earth, out to the farthest sea-coast line, and from the euphrates east and west to the most distant ends of the earth.[ ] and those who have followed him during these trying days of his absence, shall reign with him over all the earth, and be sharers in his glory.[ ] he will give both grace and glory.[ ] grace is the beginning of glory, and glory is the fulness of grace. it is all grace, free unmerited favour. now i have grouped these experiences in this way to get a clear understanding of them. but we must remember that they did not come in groups in christ's life, and they won't in ours. the red and yellow threads, the dark and bright, are interwoven throughout the web, to make the beauty of the pattern. the minor chords come up here and there through the others, sometimes overcoming, sometimes yielding to, the joyous notes. the road of life runs valley and hill, valley and hill, up and down. there were great crises in christ's life, and there may be, there quite likely will be, crisis points in ours, but in the main the hard places intersperse with the smooth going. the weaver sitting at his loom runs in a dark shuttle-thread, and then a sharp blow of the beam puts it in place; then a bright thread and a sharp blow of the beam, and so, slowly, patiently, threads and blows follow each other till the design has been worked out. even so will it be in this "follow me" road. a glad, joyous experience may be followed by the one that is bitter and that hurts; and that again, perhaps, by something gladsome and cheery, while the daily round of life plods slowly on, day after day, week in and out, as the calendar works its steady way to the end, and then begins anew. but all the while there's the presence of the wondrous one, unseen by outer eyes, but unmistakably real. and his presence gives peace. and there's an unfailing, guiding hand, whose grasp steadies you as you push along. this is the road. and yonder, just ahead, is the lone man, whose wondrous face calls, and the reach of his pierced hand beckons. let us take a careful look at the road, and a long look at the man, and then----. shall we go? the deeper meaning of friendship. a friend in need is a friend indeed. our lord jesus was our friend in our need. it was a desperate need. it could not be worse. we had been badly hurt by sin. the hurt was so bad that we could do nothing without help. our lord jesus came to our help. it was not easy for him to be our friend. friendship is sometimes very costly. his reputation went, and then his life. but he never flinched. he was thinking of us. our need controlled him. there were two controlling words in our lord jesus' life--passion and compassion. he had a passion for his father. he had compassion for us. the two dovetailed perfectly. the father had an overwhelming compassion for us. the passion for the father in our lord's heart included the throbbing, sobbing compassion for us. the compassion was the manward expression of the passion for the father. it was this compassion that controlled him those human years. it drove him hard along the road we've been looking at. he was driven into the wilderness, through the years of sacrificial service, out into the grove of the olive trees, up the steep hill of calvary, down into the depths of joseph's tomb. step-by-step he pushed his way along, for he was thinking of his father and of us. the passion for the father meant a compassion for us. things proved worse in realization as he came up close to them, as they began to touch his very life. but he never wavered. he never flinched, for he was thinking of us. he was our friend, our friend in our desperate need. a friend in need is a friend indeed. it was by deeds that he met our needs. but friendship is mutual. it has two sides, its enjoyments and its obligations. that word "friendship" has two meanings. it means fellowship. two who are congenial in thought and aim and spirit can have sweet fellowship together as they make exchange with each other of the deep things of their spirits. this is one meaning, and a sweet, hallowed meaning, too. then there is the other. you are in some sore need. it is a desperate emergency in your life, and out of the circle of your friends one singles himself out, and comes to your aid. at real cost or sacrifice to himself perhaps, he gives you that which meets and tides over your emergency. this is the deeper, the rarer meaning of the word, rarer both in being less frequent and in being very precious. fellowship friends may be many; emergency friends very, very few. and if circumstances so turn out that this man who has so rarely proven himself your friend, is himself in some emergency, and you are now in position to help him, as once he helped you, you count it not only an obligation of the highest sort, but the rarest of privileges. and with great joy you come to his help without stopping to count the cost in the doubtful, questioning way. friendship is mutual. now this second, this deep, rare meaning, is the one we're using just now. it comes to include the fellowship meaning, so enriching the emergency friendship yet more. but the emphasis is on the emergency meaning of the word friendship. our friend was a friend in this deepest, rarest way, in the desperate emergency of our lives. and now this friend of ours is in need, a need so great that it is an emergency. and this seems a startling thing to say. you may think i'm indulging some rhetorical figure of speech merely. he, the lord jesus, in need! he is now seated at the father's right hand in glory. he is "far above all rule and authority and power and dominion." he is the sovereign ruler of our world. how can it be said, with any soberness of practical meaning, that he is in need, and in desperate need? yet, let me repeat very quietly, that it is even so. _he needs our co-operation._ he needs the human means through which to work out his plans. the power of god has always flowed _through human channels_. and his plans _have waited,_ have been delayed because he has not always been able to find men willing to let him use them as he will. this is the only explanation of the long, weary waiting of the earth for his promised kingdom. this, only, explains centuries of delay in the working out of his plans. the delay, the dark centuries, the misery,--these have been no part of his plan, but dead set against his plan. "the restless millions wait the light, whose coming maketh all things new. _christ also waits_; but men are slow and late. have we done what we could? have i? have you?" some unknown friend, on seeing the statue of general gordon, as it stands facing the great desert and the soudan at khartoum, made these lines: "the strings of camels come in single file, bearing their burdens o'er the desert sand: swiftly the boats go plying on the nile. the needs of men are met on every hand, but still i wait for the messenger of god _who cometh late_. i see the clouds of dust rise in the plain, the measured tread of troops falls on the ear; the soldier comes the empire to maintain, bringing the pomp of war, the reign of fear, but still i wait the messenger of peace, _he cometh late_. they set me brooding o'er the desert drear, where broodeth darkness as the deepest night. from many a mosque there comes the call to prayer; i hear no voice that calls on _christ_ for light. but still i wait for the messenger of christ, _who cometh late."_[ ] following wholly. our friend is in need. the world's condition spells out the desperateness of that need. the world's need is his need. it is his world. this world is god's prodigal son. it is the passion of our lord jesus' heart to win his world back, and save it. that passion has been revealed most, thus far, in his going to the great extreme of dying. that passion is still unsatisfied. yonder he sits, with scarred face and form, _expecting_.[ ] bending eagerly forward with longing eyes he is expecting. he is expectantly waiting our response, expectantly waiting the day when things will have ripened on the earth for the next step in the great plan. and down from the throne comes the same eager cry he used when amongst us on earth, "follow me." this is the one call, with many variations, that runs through the seven-fold message to his followers in the book of the revelation.[ ] but he calls for real followers. he needs calebs, who are willing, if need be, to face a whole nation dead-bent on going the other way, and yet who never flinch but insist on following fully. caleb's following was so unflinching, so against the current of his whole time, that it stands out with the peculiar emphasis of a six-fold mention.[ ] those who follow "wholly" seem scarce sometimes. i was struck recently with an utterance by a man prominent in business circles and in christian activity for years. he was speaking of how he had been active in a certain form of christian activity, and declared that it had never occasioned him any loss, or been a detriment to him in his business. the words had a strange, suspicious sound. the master told those who would follow fully that they might expect much loss and detriment. the master was very careful to give the "if's" a prominent place. "if any man would come after me."[ ] "if any man would serve me let him follow me."[ ] those "if's" are the cautionary signals. they mean obstacles needing to be considered before one decides. we must determine whether we will take them away or not. half-way following, part-way following, has become very common in some of the other parts of the world, where we don't live. i'll leave you to judge how it is in your own neighbourhood. i have seen people start down this "follow me" road with great enthusiasm and real earnestness, singing as they go. then the road begins to narrow a bit. the thorn bushes on the side have grown so thick and rank that they push over the sides of the road, and narrow it down. you can't go along without the thorns scratching face and hands badly as you push through. and then you suddenly find a knife, a sharpedged knife, being held out across the road, by an unseen hand back in the bushes. the cutting edge is toward you. it is held firmly. it is clearly impossible to go on without a clash with that knife. the real meaning of that "follow me" is beginning to be seen now. just ahead beyond the knife stands the master, looking longingly, beckoning earnestly, calling still. but that knife! it takes your eyes, and the question is on in real earnest. and it is very grievous to say that some stop there. they pitch their tents this side the knife. they may have had the courage to push through the thorns, but this knife stops them. they're not honest enough to back clear out of the road. so they hold meetings on the roadway, conferences for the deepening of the christian life, with earnest addresses, and consecration meetings, and soft singing. and if perchance some one calls attention to the master standing ahead there, beyond the knife, beckoning,--well, they sing louder and pray longer so as to ease their consciences a bit, and deaden unpleasant sounds, but they make no move toward striking tents and pushing on. and many coming up along the road are hindered. the crowds, the meetings, the singing, the earnestness,--these take hold of them and keep them from discerning that all this is an obstruction in the way. the master's ahead yonder, past that cutting knife. in a very clear voice that rises above meetings and music, he calls, "if any man would serve me, let him follow me, let him get _in behind me_, and come _up close after me_." he who would serve, he who would help, must not stop here, but push on to where the master is beckoning,--yes, past the knife! but there are big crowds at the half-way place, this side the knife. and there are still larger crowds looking on and sneering, sneering at those whose following hasn't got much beyond the singing stage. the outside crowd does love sincerity, and is very keen for the faults and flaws in those who call themselves followers. the tuning-fork for the best music. but some push on; they go forward; and as they reach the knife they grasp it firmly by the blade. yes, it cuts, and cuts deep. but they push on, on after the master. they turn the knife into a tuning-fork. do you know about this sort of thing? the steel in a knife can be used to make a tuning-fork. the touch of obedience brings music out of sacrifice. this is the only tuning-fork that can give the true pitch for that sweetest music we were speaking of a little while ago. this is a bit of the power of obedience. it can change a challenging knife into an instrument of music. this is a bit of the strategy of obedience, the fine tactics of sacrifice. the tempter with the knife would hold us back. we seize his knife from his grasp. he can never use that knife again. and we use it to make sweet music to help the marching. what was meant to hold us back now helps us forward. this is the tuning-fork the master used. he would have us use it, too. but each one must take it himself, out of the threatening hand that would hold us back. as the call to follow comes we must go on, no matter what it involves. no circumstance, no possible loss, no sacrifice, must hold us back, for a moment, or a step, from following where our friend calls; only so can we be his friend. shall we go on _all the way_? or, shall we join the company at the half-way stopping place? well, _it's a matter of your eyes_, how you use them. if the knife holds your eyes, you'll never get past it. that knife is like the deadly serpent's glittering eye. if the cobra's eye can get your eye, you are held fast in that awful, deadly fascination. if you'll _lift_ your eyes, to the master's face!--ah, that's the one thing, the only thing, that can _hold_ our eyes with gaze steadier than any serpent eye. the face of christ jesus, torn by thorns, scarred by thongs, but with the wondrous beauty light shining out, and those great patient, pleading eyes! this it was that held that young indian aristocrat steady, while he sold all--bit by bit, of such precious things--sold all. this it was that held steady the young jewish aristocrat, paul. he never forgot the light on that caravan road north, above the shining of the sun. he never could forget it. it blinded him. he "could not see for the glory of that light." old ambitions blurred out. old attachments faded, and then faded clear out before the blaze of that light. family ties, inheritance, social prestige, reputation, old friendships, old honoured standards,--all faded out in the light of jesus' face on that northern road. how to follow. shall we take a look at that face? a long look? shall we go? practically going means three things, a _decision_, a _habit_ and a _purpose_; a thoughtful, calculating decision, a daily unbroken habit, an unalterable north-star sort of purpose. go alone in some quiet corner where you can think things out. look at what it may mean for you to follow, so far as you know now. most of it you don't know, and won't know, can't know except as it works out in your life. take a long, quiet, thoughtful look at the road. then take a longer, quieter, steadier look at him, christ jesus, once crucified for you, now seated in glory with all power, and asking you to-day to be a channel for his power. then decide. say, "lord jesus, i _will_ follow thee. this is my decision. by thy help, i follow thee, i'll follow thee all the way." that's the first step, the decision. as i entered the tent at keswick one morning, a friend handed me these lines, which came to her pen at the close of a previous meeting: "i will follow thee, dear master, though the road be rough and steep, thou wilt hold me lest i falter, thy strong hand must safely keep. enter in, lord, cleanse thy temple, give the grace to put away all that hinders, all that's doubtful, o'er my life hold blessed sway. use me, master, for thy glory, live out thine own life through me, that my life may tell the story, and win others unto thee. keep me trusting thee, lord jesus, walking closely by thy side, keep me resting, sweetly resting, as i in thy love abide." then plan your work and time so as to get a bit of time off alone every day with the book and with the master. the chief thing is not to pray, though you will pray. it is not for bible study, though that will be there too. the chief thing is to meet with the lord jesus himself. he will come to you through the book. he will fit its messages into your questions and perplexities. he himself will come to meet with you when you so go to meet with him. you won't always _realize_ his presence, for you may sometimes be tired. but you can _recognize_ his presence. you can cultivate the habit of recognizing his presence. this is your bit of daily school-time, with the book and the master. it will keep your spirit sweet, your heart hot, and your judgment sane and poised. this is the second thing, the _habit._ it is the thing you cannot get along without. it must go in daily. without it things will tangle; your heart will cool, your spirit sometimes take on an edge that isn't good, your judgment get warped and twisted, and your will grow either wabbly or stubborn. this second thing must be put in the daily round, and kept in. it helps to hold you steady to the first thing. then the third is the _purpose_ to be true to whatever the master tells you, to be true to himself; never to fail _him_. you may flinch within your feelings. you probably will. yet you need never flinch in action. follow the beckoning figure just ahead in the road, regardless of thorny bush or cutting knife. keep your spirit sweet, your tongue gentle and slow, your touch soft and even, your purpose as inflexible as wrought steel, or as granite, as unmovable as the north star. that's the third thing, the purpose. and the three make the three-fold cord with which to tie you fast and hard to the lone man ahead. he is less alone as we follow close up. the three together help you understand the meaning of _obedience_. the decision is the beginning of obedience; the habit teaches you _what_ you are to obey and gives you strength to do it; the purpose is the actual obedience in daily round, the holding true to what he has told you. years ago, a young jewess, of a wealthy family, that stood high in the jewry of new york, heard the call of the despised nazarene. it came to her with great, gentle power, and she decided that she must follow. her father was very angry, and threatened disinheritance if she so disgraced the family. but she remained quietly, gently, inflexibly, true to her decision. at last the father planned a social occasion at the home to which large numbers were invited. and he said to his daughter, "you must sing at this reception, and make this your disavowal of the christian faith." and she quietly said, "father, i will sing." the evening came, the parlours were filled, the time came for her to sing, and all listened eagerly, for they knew the beauty of her voice. with her heart in both eyes and voice, she began singing: "jesus, i my cross have taken, all to leave and follow thee; destitute, despised, forsaken, thou, from hence, my all shalt be. perish every fond ambition, all i've sought, and hoped, and known: yet how rich is my condition! god and heaven are all my own." and she passed out into the night of disinheritance on earth, "into an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away." this was her decision. she had seen _his face!_ all else paled in its light. shall we go, too? finger-posts the parable of the finger-posts. waiting is harder work than working. it takes more out of you. and it puts more into you, too, of fine-grained, steady strength, if you can stand the strain of it. and if, to the waiting is added perplexity, the pull upon your strength is much greater. it is harder to hold steady, and not break. and if the thing you've put your very life into seems at stake, that taxes the wearing power of your strength to the utmost. such a time, and just such a test, came to the little band of disciples after the resurrection, and before the ascension. the story of it is told in that added chapter of john's gospel. you remember that last chapter is one of the added touches. the gospel is finished with the finish of the twentieth chapter. then john is led by the spirit, to add something more. that added chapter becomes to us like an acted parable, the parable of the added touch. there is always the added touch, the extra touch of power, of love, of answer to prayer. our lord has a way of giving more. the prayer itself is answered, and then some added touch is given for full measure. so it is in all his dealings, when he is allowed to have his own way. he is the lord of the added touch. he does exceeding abundantly above what we ask, or think, or expect. these disciples were now to have one of these added touches. it was a time of sore perplexity. the crucifixion had left them dazed, stupefied. it was wholly unexpected. they were utterly at sea, with neither compass, nor steering apparatus of any sort. that saturday to them was one of the longest, dreariest, heaviest days ever spent by any one. they had all proven untrue to their dead friend, save one. then as unexpectedly came the resurrection. they're dazed again, this time with joy. they haven't taken it in yet. to say that the two shocks, each so radically different from the other, shook them tremendously, is stating it very mildly. they don't know themselves. they haven't found their feet. they haven't adjusted yet to their swiftly changing surroundings. they don't know what next. they don't know what to do. so the old impulsive simon in peter proposed something. simon, the unsteady, was much in evidence those days. peter the rock-man hadn't arrived yet. this was simon peter's specialty, proposing something. he said, "well, i'm going fishing." and the others quickly said, "we'll go along." the mere doing something would be a relief. but they caught nothing. it was a poor night. the morning brought only heavy hearts with light nets and boats. they had failed at following; now they were failing even at their old specialty, fishing. couldn't they do _any_thing? in the dim light of the breaking dawn there's some one standing on the beach, a stranger. he seems interested in them, and calls out familiarily, "have you caught anything?" and you feel the heaviness of their hearts over something else in the shout "no." and the gentle voice calls out, with a certain tone of quiet authority in it, "throw over on the right there, and you'll get some fish." and they cast the nets out again, feeling a strong impulse to obey this kindly stranger, without stopping to think out why. and at once the ropes pull so hard that it takes all their strength to hold them. it's john's quick insight that recognizes the stranger. with his heart in his throat, in awe-touched voice, he quietly says, "it's the lord." that's enough for peter. he takes the shortest way to shore. he has some things to talk over with the master. and as the seven tired men landed the fish, they found breakfast waiting on the sands. who built that fire? who cooked that fish? who was thinking about them and caring for their personal needs, when they were so tired and hungry? and when breakfast was finished, there's the quiet talk together, about love and service, while the sun is climbing up in the east. it is addressed to peter, but it is meant, too, for those who were so fleet-footed a few nights before. all this was the answer to their perplexity. they were willing and waiting to follow, but they had failed so badly. they were not quite sure where they stood. they had no finger-posts. now the finger-posts were put up to show the way. this fishing scene was an acted parable, the parable of the finger-posts. the lineage of service. look at these finger-posts a little. there was the lord jesus. they didn't recognize him. but he was there. he had a plan. he took authoritative command of their movements. he gave directions. they obeyed him. then came the great haul of fish. then came the quiet talk about love and service, but with the emphasis on love. the love was the chief thing. the service was something growing out of love. "lovest thou me?" then thou mayest serve, thou hast the chiefest qualification. our lord gave them the lineage of service that morning. these are the generations of true service. a sight of jesus begets love, a tender, gentle, strong, passionate thing of rarest beauty that is immortal, but must have the constant sight of its father's face for vigorous life. and love at once begets obedience, which grows strong and stout and skilled, as long as it stays in its father's presence. and obedience begets service, untiring, glad, patient service. there are some outsiders that have come into this family, but they do not have the fine traits of blood-kin. "duty" is one of these. it serves because it must. and at times it renders fine, high service. but its service comes out of the will, rather than out of the heart. it is ruled more by a sense of propriety, never by a passion of the heart. "privilege" is near of kin to duty, and it is a high-born, fine-grained thing. it serves because it is an honour to do so. it is enjoyable to be so highly connected. but it constantly needs proper recognition and appreciation of its work and skill. but these are really outsiders. they have married in, and do not have the real family traits. the one word, and the only one, that may properly be used for true service is that fine word, "passion." true service is a thing of love, a thing of the heart, a flame that pervades and permeates and envelops the whole life within and without, a fire that consumes and controls. the lord jesus, his presence, his plan, his authoritative leadership, their obedience, love thrice asked and given, service because of love,--these are the finger-posts for these perplexed men. they can be put into very simple shape for our guidance. three finger-posts hung up will include all of them,--_clear vision, a spirit of obedience, a heart of tender love_. these are the three great essentials of all true, full following. and there will not be, there cannot be, true full following without all three of these. there may be much earnest, honest service, much faithful plodding, and hard work, and much good done. but there's always less than the best. there is less than should be. the best results are not being got for the effort expended, except where these three are blended. a clear vision means simply a clear understanding of things as they are, and of what needs to be done, with all the facts in that belong in. a spirit of obedience means not only an obedience in spirit, a spirited obedience, but an obedience that fits into the spirit of the leader and his plans. and through these as a fine fragrance breathes a heart of tender undiscourageable love. not quite in is outside. these three things must be kept in poise. so the master plans. this is the parable of the fishing. there are many illustrations of one only of these, or two, in action. and the bad or poor result that works out can be plainly seen. the holy spirit with great plainness and faithfulness has hung up cautionary signs along the road. there may be _clear vision without obedience._ that is, a clear understanding of the master's plan, but a failure to fit in. that will mean a dimming vision. and if persisted in, it will mean spiritual disaster. the great illustration of this is judas. judas had as clear a vision, in all likelihood, as the others when he was chosen for discipleship, and later for apostleship. there was the possibility of a john in judas, even as there was the possibility of a judas in john. both are in every man. but judas was not true to the vision he had. he wanted to use the master to further his own plans and advantage. and the vision slowly blurred and dimmed, as the under nature was given the upper hand. the master's clear insight recognized the demon spirit that judas had allowed to come in, though judas did not.[ ] then came the dastardly act of betrayal. and judas has been held up to universal scorn and condemnation. but judas isn't so lonely, if you think into the thing a bit. he only put personal advantage above loyalty to the lord jesus. he simply preferred his own plans to the master's plans. that was all. and he tried to force his own through, without suspecting how the thing would turn out, and how tremendously much was involved. the great events being worked out have thrown his contemptible act into the limelight of history. but the act itself wasn't uncommon. possibly you may know some one living quite near, with some of this same sort of trait. one of the saddest things in the record of christian leadership is just this, clear vision with a gradually lessening obedience, then a gradually dimming vision, and that decrease of both increasing, as the slant down increases. the old-time motions in public ministering continue, more or less mechanically, but the power has long since passed away. and sadder yet, like the strong man of old, these shorn men wist it not. one's lips refuse to repeat the word "judas" of them, even in the inner thoughts. yet these class themselves under the same description,--clear vision without full obedience to it; personal plans and preferences put above loyalty to the master. a second illustration is that of king saul. clear vision, failure to obey, forcing himself to wrong action to keep his popularity, rebellion, stubbornness,--these are the simple successive steps in his story. and the black night falls upon the utter spiritual disaster of his career, as he lies prone on the earth before the witch. these two characters become formulas; they need only to be filled in with other names to make accurate modern biography of some. there may be _clear vision with make-believe_ or _partial obedience_. it hurts to speak of such a thing. the word "hypocrisy" is a very hard one to get out at the lips. it should never be used except to help, and then very, very sparingly, and only in humblest spirit, and with earnest, secret prayer. ananias and sapphira quickly come to mind here. they wanted _men_ to think them wholly surrendered, though they knew they were not. that was all; not so unusual a thing, after all. there are sore temptations here for many. the swiftness of the punishment that came does not mean that their wrong was worse than that of others who do the same thing. that modern religious lying of this sort is not as quickly judged merely tells the marvellous _patience_ of god. there may be _clear vision and obedience without love._ this means a hard, cold, stern righteousness. it is truth without grace. nothing can be made to seem more repulsive. one incident in elijah's career furnishes the illustration here. let us say such a thing _very softly_ of such a mighty man of god, and say it in fewest words, and only to help. he was a man of marvellous faith, and prayer, and bold daring, in the midst of a very crooked and perverse generation. israel was at its very lowest moral ebb thus far. elijah had a clear understanding of what should be done to check the awful impurity which was sweeping over the nation like a flood-tide. he was true to his conviction in sending the four hundred priests of horribly licentious worship to their death. but was he brokenhearted over them? was he utterly broken down with grief as he led them to the little running brook of kishon for the nation's sake? god touched the sore spot, when, down at horeb, the mount of thunder and fire, he spoke to this man of fire and thunder in that exquisitely soft sound of gentle stillness. this was a new revelation of god to this stern prophet of righteousness. there may be a sort of letter-obedience, a formal obedience to the vision you have. in one's own estimation, there may seem to be a knowledge of what is right, and a self-satisfied doing of it. there may be a painstaking attention to the forms of obedience, and a self-righteous content in doing the required things. is this the underlying thought in peter's self-complacent remark, "lo, _we_ have left all and followed thee.[ ] we're so much better than this rich young ruler who couldn't stand the test you put to him. _we----"?_ poor, self-confident peter! when the fire test did come, and come so hot, how his "we" did crumble! "_light obeyed increaseth light_." there may be _obedience without clear vision._ that is, there may be a doing of what is thought to be right, but without a clear understanding of what is the right thing to do. this results in _fanaticism_. moses killing the egyptian and hiding his body in the sand had no clear vision of god's plan. he knew something was wrong, and that something needed to be done. and so he proposed doing something. and the poor egyptian who happened in his way that day felt the weight of his zeal. it's a not uncommon way of attempting to righten wrongs. he forgot that there is a god, and a plan, and that he who does not work into the plan of god is hitting wrong. there has been a lot of wreckage scattered along this beach. saul persecuting the christians is another illustration here. he is a sad, striking example of conscientiousness without sufficient knowledge, of earnestness without clear light. he was conscientiously doing the wrong thing, as earnestly as he could, supposing it to be the right thing. john wanted to call down fire from heaven and burn up some people that didn't fit in with their plans.[ ] earnest intensity without sufficient light has kindled a good many fires of this sort. sometimes this does not go as far as hurtful fanaticism, but leads to blundering and confusion and delay. abraham was acting without clear light when he yielded to sarah's plan of compromise for getting an heir.[ ] a bit of quiet holding of her suggestion before god for light would have cleared his mind. the result was wholly bad,--a confusion in his own mind, a mental cloudiness about god's plan and promise, an element of discord introduced in the tribal life, and a delay of many years, apparently, before the conditions were ripe for the coming of the heir of faith, on god's own plan. peter eating with his gentile christian brothers, and then refusing to eat with them, when some jewish christians came down from jerusalem, made very bitter feeling in the church at antioch, for a time.[ ] paul's clearer light helped. time spent in waiting for clearer light is always time wisely spent, even though we may seem slow. there may be _love without clear vision_. the love makes intense desire to do something, but with no clear idea of what would best be done. peter's awkward sword-thrust was an attempt to help, because of real love in his heart for his master, now in personal danger. the master's quiet healing touch recognized the love, and also rebuked and corrected the hasty, ill-advised action. but there's worse yet here, mean contemptible cowardice. peter actually denying his relation with his friend and master, and making his denial seem more natural by the addition of the oaths that the maid well knew no follower of this jesus could have uttered--what mean contemptible cowardice! but go gently there in using such hard words. he was only afraid of being hurt. he merely wanted to save himself. that isn't such an uncommon thing. haven't you sometimes known something of this sort--_among others?_ the cowardly nine, making a new record for fleet-footedness, down the road, in the dark, were only doing the same thing in more cowardly, less-spirited fashion. these men loved jesus. no one may doubt that. but there was no clear understanding of that night's doings, though the master had faithfully and plainly tried to tell them. fear for their own safety overcame the real love in their hearts for the man they forsook that dark night. _clear vision and love without obedience_ is--impossible! where there is no obedience, or faulty obedience, either the vision has blurred or dimmed, or the love is burning low. _clear vision and loving obedience_ mean power, sweet, gentle, fragrant, helpful power. it means a grateful crowd, and a pleased master, who has been able once again to reach the crowd. _clear vision and love as a passion_, an intense passion, means irresistible power. that is to say it means a perfect human medium through which our lord jesus can act and manifest himself. and this is the real meaning of power, power to the full,--jesus christ in free action. john, the fisherman, had a gradually but steadily clearing vision. he did not understand fully. but he understood enough to know that there was more to come which would clear things up. he could follow where he did not understand. his love for the man controlled, while his understanding was clearing. he went in "_with_ jesus" that awful night. i imagine he never left his side. can we ever be grateful enough that at least one of us was true that night! there was the same danger as with the others, and it was made more acute by his simple, open stand at his friend's side. but love, with at least some understanding, held him steady. he could understand that jesus must be doing the right thing, even though he could not understand the run of events that centred about jesus. the intensity that would call down fire, changed, under the influence of the changing, clearing vision, into an intensity of love. it was a mellower, gentler, evener, but not less intense flame. the disciple whom jesus loved became the disciple of love. love and vision worked upon each other from earliest times with him. love made the vision clearer, the clearing vision made the love stronger, till they worked together into a perfect blend. paul's unmistakable vision on the damascus road brought a passion of love, and an answering obedience, that swept him like a great flame. the fire-marks of that flame could be found all over the roman empire. he made mistakes doubtless, but these but made the trend of his whole life stand out the more. paul was a wonderful combination of brain and heart and will, held in remarkable poise. the finest classic on love is from his pen. john could love. paul could love, and could tell about love. but a peculiar tenderness comes into one's heart as we remember that there was just one man who held these three in perfect poise. and let us not forget that though he was more than man, yet it was a _man_, one of ourselves, who so held these three in such fine balance. it was a human poise, even as planned by the father for the human life. the clear vision early began coming to him,[ ] and it became clearer and fuller and unmistakable until it had had its fulfilment. obedience was the touchstone of all his life, from nazareth to olivet. and who, like him, had the heart of tender love, the heart that was ever moved with compassion at sight of need, the heart that broke at the last under the sore grief of its burden of love? the olivet vision. shall we take a moment more to look at these three finger-posts a little more closely? just what is meant by _a clear vision?_ i could say at once that it means a vision of our lord jesus christ. and yet that language has sometimes been used in a vague sort of way. and some of us have taken it in a vague indefinite way, and not thought into its practical meaning. clear vision here means an understanding of who christ jesus is, and what he is, and what plans he has. then it means that that understanding is so clear that it becomes intense, intense to the point of being overwhelming. that is, it becomes the _dominant_ thing that controls your thinking, and affections, and actions,--your life. i think i may say correctly that the place for getting such a clear, full vision of christ jesus is _olivet_. olivet is a good place to pitch your tent for a little while, until your vision clears. then you'll not stay there, though you may return to keep the lines of your vision clear and clean; you will be down in the valleys with the crowds. one day the master led his disciples out to the mount of olives. it was the last time they were together. and the group of men stand there talking, the eleven grouped about the one. he is talking with them quietly and earnestly. then, to their utter amazement, his feet are off the ground, he is rising upward in the air, then higher, and higher, until a bit of cloud moves across, and they see him no more. this is all you would see at a distance. but let us come a bit nearer, and stand _with_ them, and listen, and watch. olivet is the last bit of earth to feel the presence of the master's feet. off yonder to the west, down in the valley, you see a clump of trees; that is gethsemane, the place of the bloody sweat and the tense agony of spirit. across the valley, still looking west, lies the city, outside whose wall is the little knoll called calvary, where jesus gave his life out. over here to the east and south lies little bethany, which speaks of his resurrection power. and a bit farther off are the bare wilds sloping down,--that is the place of the sore temptation. far away to the north, up in the clouds, lies _the_ snow-clad mountain, beyond your outer vision, yet coming now to your inner vision, where the god within shined out through the man. but while a quick glance takes all this in, your eyes are caught and held by the man in the midst. his presence embodies and intensifies all that these places suggest. his face bears the impress of the wilderness, and of the garden. the scars plainly there tell of calvary, as no piece of geography ever can. his mere presence tells unmistakably of the resurrection. and you know who he is, and what. he made the world and breathed his breath of life into man's nostrils. later he came in amongst us as one of ourselves. he was tempted like as we, suffered like as we never suffered, gave his life for us, went down into death, _rose_ up again out of death. this is the jesus of olivet. but the action of his face and pose are part of the sight. his eyes are looking _outward_. the set of his face is out. his hands point out. and he is talking; listen: he is talking about a _"world"_. and the outward turn of face and eyes and pointing hand become the emphasis of that word, "_world."_ he died for a world. he is thinking about a world. he has a plan of action for a world. but another word gets your ear--"_ye."_ he is thinking about these disciples, about his followers. he has a plan of action for them. and these two plans, for the world, for their lives, these two are tied up together. and a third word stands out--"_i_." "i am with you, i am in command." and now three things stand out together, a world-plan, a plan for the follower's life fitting into the world-plan, and in the midst--jesus, the christ, my saviour, my lord. this is the olivet vision. this, the clear, full vision: of jesus, crucified, risen, empowered; of his world-plan; of his plan for my life as part of the world-plan. olivet faces four ways. backward, it points to the sympathy, the humanness, the suffering, the cross, of jesus. upward, it looks to himself, now sitting above the clouds at the father's right hand, "far above all rule, and authority, and power, and dominion, and every name that is named," with "all things in subjection under his feet." outward, it reaches to the world he died for, and plans for, and is still brooding over with more than a mother's love. forward, it anticipates eagerly the time when he will come back to finish up what he began, and we are to continue. when he returns it will be to this same olivet.[ ] he picks up the line of action exactly where he left it. olivet is to know a second pressure of those feet. this is the clear, full vision, the three-fold vision we need and must have for true following: himself, his world-plan, his plan for each one's life. this means seeing things as they are. they fall into true perspective. you see how disproportioned and grotesque the common perspective of earth is. you see things through his eyes. his eyes take out of yours the personal colouring, the colour blindness of personal interest and advantage which so strangely and strongly affect all our sight. we need frequent visits to olivet's top, until constant looking at its outlooking landscape, at himself, fills and floods our eyes. we need the quiet time alone with himself and his word, and some map-picture of his world, as a habit, until these, himself, and his word, and his world, are burned into eyes and heart, until they fire as a sweet fever the whole life. the spirit of obedience. out of the vision comes the _spirit of obedience_. we have spoken of the act of obedience, and the habit of obedience, but deeper down is the spirit of obedience, which lies under act and habit. i have used the words, "spirit of obedience," rather than simply the word, "obedience," because obedience sometimes stands for a bondage to rules, a slavery to things. the obedience itself must be deeper than rule or outward thing. the spirit of obedience sees into the spirit of the rule, and through the outward thing, and floods it with a new spirit of life. this spirit of obedience is the one finger-post found oftenest along this road. so only can we be true to the vision. and obedience itself is not true obedience, nor true to the vision, save as it is a love-obedience. real obedience breathes in the spirit of the one being obeyed. it breathes out the love-spirit of him who obeys. the touchstone of the "follow me" life is not need, nor service, nor sacrifice. the need is felt to the paining point. the service is given joyously to the limit of strength. the sacrifice is yielded to to the bleeding point. but these all come as they come, _through and out of obedience._ yet need _is_ the controlling thing, too, _but_ not the need as _we_ see it, but as _he_ sees it, who sees all, and feels most deeply. the need is best met, the service best given, the sacrifice most healing in its power, as each grows out of obedience. _the standard of obedience_ is three-fold, the word of god, the spirit of god, and one's own judgment and spirit-insight. these three are meant to fit together. this is the natural result when things are, even measurably, as they should be. when god is allowed to sway the life as he wishes, these three fit and blend perfectly. the word of god taken alone will lead to superstitious regard for a book and to a cramped judgment and action. to say that we are guided by the spirit, without due regard for the book he has been the principal one in writing, leads to fanaticism, or at least to ill-advised, unbalanced, unnatural opinions and action. naturally one's own judgment and spirit-insight play a large part, for they make the personal decision, they interpret both word and spirit to us. it is through one's judgment and spirit-insight that the holy spirit and the word influence the decision and action. the great essential is the habitual, quiet, broad, thoughtful study of god's word, with the will and life utterly yielded to the holy spirit. so one's spirit is trained to understand, and one's judgment to form its conclusions. the holy spirit makes us understand god's purpose as revealed in his word, and fits this into the need of practical life. obedience, intelligent and full, depends upon the quiet time alone with god over his word. i want to add something more here. it is something startling. _there are no break-downs in the path of obedience_. i say that very softly, as a guilty sinner in the matter of break-downs. i remember that the record of christian service is like one continuous record of break-downs, broken bodies, wrecked nerves, sometimes wrecked minds. and i am not saying it to criticize any one, except it be myself. out of a long personal experience of constant going, unwise overwork, and serious break-downs, i am but confessing my own sins, when i say there are no break-downs in the path of obedience. does that mean that there is much earnest service that we have not been told to do? and the answer must be a very gentle, but very clear, "yes." but the man in command has perfect knowledge of what you can do. and _he never asks you to do anything beyond your strength_. or, if he does need you to meet some emergency beyond your strength, he gives the strength required. he sends in a fresh supply of resurrection life to repair the waste of your body, and then, too, he calls into use strength, resources, talents, that you have not known you had. now i know that if this be taken seriously, it will lead some to a heart-searching time alone with the master. i am sure that if obedience alone is to be the key-note, it will mean many a readjustment. and it will mean, too, a new flood stream of power flowing through and out as the connecting parts are re-adjusted. there's a helpful literal reading of a verse in hebrews.[ ] "now the god of peace, who brought again from the dead our lord jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, with the blood of an eternal covenant, _put you in joint [with himself]_ to do _his_ will in every good work, working in you [or through you] that which is well-pleasing in his sight." obedience puts us in joint with him, if we are out. it keeps us in joint; then the power flows from him, through that joint, out where our life touches. obedience is really a music word. it is the rhythmic swinging together of two wills, his and ours. rhythm of action is power. rhythm of colour is beauty. rhythm of sound is music. but it's really all music. for power is music of action. beauty is music to the eye. rhythmic sound is music to the ear and heart. if there might be more of this music, he and we in perfect accord, how the crowds would be caught by its melody and come eagerly to listen. the heart of love. and out of the vision comes the heart of love. the sight of the lord jesus' face begets love; and love begets obedience. but obedience never can keep true away from its father. it is never true full obedience except it have the throbbing heart of love in it. this is the unfailing mark. it's so easy to fail here. yet "love never faileth." the classical thirteenth of first corinthians becomes an indictment. we know it better in the book than in life. "love suffereth long, ... _envieth_ not ... is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unbecomingly or inconsistently, seeketh not even its own, is not provoked." love "beareth" with "all things" in the one loved, which it would gladly have different, "believeth all" possibly good "things" of him, "hopeth" for "all" desirable "things" in him, "endureth all things" in him that hurt and pain. "love _never_ faileth." in conversation one day with an unusually earnest worker in the orient, we were talking of these things. his work was beset by many sore perplexities. "ah," he said, "there is where i have failed. i have not had the heart of love." and i thought how many of us could say the same thing. there are in the bible three great illustrations of the heart of love. as moses came down from the presence of god, and found the people dancing about the golden calf, he was hotly indignant. but as he goes back to plead with god, the greatness of his love and grief comes out. in god's presence their sin is seen to be so much greater. he cries, "oh, this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of gold. yet now if thou wilt forgive their sin----" and a great sob breaks the sentence abruptly off, and it is never finished. the possibility seems to come to his mind, in this holy presence, that such sin, by these so greatly blest, could not be forgiven. and that seems to him unbearable. "and if not," if it cannot be forgiven, "_blot me_, i pray thee, _out of thy book_; but don't blot them out."[ ] in the beginning of the great jew section of romans, paul is speaking of the intense pain of heart he had over the unbelief and stubbornness of his racial kinsfolk. he says, "i have great sorrow and unceasing pain in my heart. for i could wish _that i myself were accursed_ from christ for my brethren's sake, my kinsmen," that so they might not be accursed.[ ] yet neither moses nor paul could so sacrifice himself for another's sin. "no man can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to god a ransom for him."[ ] but jesus, the pure, sinless one, _was_ blotted out. he _was_ made a curse. moses and paul would if they could. jesus both could and did. was there ever such a heart of love! and that heart was greatest in its action of love when it broke. a simple story has come to me, i cannot remember where, of a woman in southern china in the province of kwangtung. she had a serious illness and was taken to a mission hospital in canton for treatment. there for the first time she heard of christ, of his love and death. and that story coming so new and fresh transformed her, as she opened her heart to the saviour. and a great peace came into her heart, and showed plainly in her face. then her thought began turning to her own village. not a soul there knew of this wondrous saviour. if they but knew. but what could she do, her illness was very serious. the next time the physician came by she asked him how long she would live if she stayed there. he said that he did not know, but he thought about six months. and how long if she left the hospital and returned home. he didn't know; maybe three months. and after he had gone she quietly announced that she was going home. and those about her were greatly astonished. "why," they said, "you'll lose half your life!" and the tears came into her eyes, as a gentle smile overspread her poor worn face, and she simply said, "jesus gave his whole life for me; don't you think i'm glad to give half mine for him?" i don't know how long she lived. the story didn't say, but it did tell that most of the people in her village knew a long life, even an everlasting life, because of her simple telling of the gospel story. there were the three essentials, though never so thought of or analyzed by her. she had the vision of jesus christ her saviour, then of those who had never heard of him, and then of her own part in the plan of telling them. the impulse to tell them was obeyed gladly. and the heart of love counted not her life dear unto herself if only others might be told of this wondrous christ jesus. fellow-followers god's problem. god needs men. that is the tremendous fact that stands out in every generation. there never has been a corner since adam walked out of eden where that need was not thrust into some man's face, and thrust into god's face. it is being thrust into our faces to-day as ever before, and as never before. for the ends of the earth are come upon us, for the helping touch of our hands, _or_ for the drag-back to be overcome by some one's else helping touch. god is a needy god. that fact is spelled out by every page of this old book of his. and it is spelling itself out anew by the book of the life of the race whose current chapter is being written by our generation. god's wonderful plan for man lies at the root of his need. in his great graciousness he made us in his own image. that is, he gave to us the right of full free choice. he has never infringed upon that image, that right of choice, by so much as a whispered breath or the moving of a hair. he gave man the sovereignty of the earth and its life. and every move god has made among men on earth has been through a man, and through his free consent. the tragedy of sin has intensified god's need tremendously. it has intensified everything, man's misunderstanding and hatred of god, the love of god's heart for man, and the distance between the two. it is constantly intensifying pain, sorrow, man's need, and the blight upon nature. it increases god's difficulty in working out his will of love for man. for it makes it increasingly hard to get even christian men to see things through god's eyes, and gladly give themselves up to his purposes. poor god! such a needy god! rich in power, in character, in the loving worship of the upper world, in his love for all, rich beyond power of human calculation; so poor in the response of men to the wooing of his heart. so poor in the glad, intelligent co-operation of those who trust him for salvation in the next world, but are content with very little of it in this. so needy in the lack of those who bring love and life, intellect and wealth, and lay all at his feet. this has been god's problem, to respect the rights he has given man, and yet work through him in carrying out his great plan of love. this is the warp into which the whole of the bible fabric is woven--the tragedy of sin, of sin-hurt, sin-stubborned men, the patience of god in wooing men back, and his exquisite tact and unlimited patience is always working _through_ men's consent, and through human channels. to-day he comes to you and me, pleadingly asking us to help him in his passionate plan for his race. some few have the gift of leadership. most of us are moulded to follow. he needs both leader and follower. he needs the _life_. he needs the _love_. through these, whether in prominent place or shadowed, in leadership or in following along some well-beaten path, through these--the _life_, the _love_, he works in his great simple plan for overcoming the tragedy of sin. that plan includes the whole race. god has no favourites among the nations. when the hour is ripe for an advance step, a man is found ripened for leadership. this is the real final explanation of certain great leaders. it was not the man himself alone, but the coming together of the time, the man, and the plan; the time for an advance step, the man who had yielded to god up to the ripening point, the plan of god. and the decisive thing was the plan of god. president finney used to insist very earnestly that revivals followed a fixed law of action. when men would with all their hearts fit into the great laws of grace, there would follow the gracious revival results even as effect follows cause in nature; and without question he was wholly right. in addition to this, however, there is a further fact to note, of which finney himself was a striking illustration. in god's broader plans for the race when the time is ripe for an advance step, he has some man in training for leadership in that hour, and so ripeness of time and of man and of plan come together. but the chief factor at work is god himself. this, and only this, explains fully certain great religious movements and leaders. such men in later centuries as luther in germany, zwingli in switzerland, calvin in france and switzerland, wesley and whitefield in england, and finney in both america and england. only this can satisfactorily explain moody's unusual career. he was a man of strong native parts, of marked individuality, and of utter surrender to god. and this combination would have brought great results under any circumstances, but it does not explain the great movement in which he was the leader. it was god's hour for an advance movement, the man so untrained in men's schools, was slowly made ready in god's school, and man and hour and plan fitted together. but the chief emphasis remains on the fact that it was the time in god's gracious plan for an advance. and the nations of the earth have been feeling the blessed impulse of that advance ever since. but the leaders are few; and what could they do without the great mass of followers? god needs the faithful ones, unknown by name, hidden away in quiet corners, each the centre of a group which is touching a larger group, and so on, ever widening. everything turns on this,--letting god have the full use of us; living as though god were the realest thing in this matter-of-fact, every-day world; going on the supposition that the bible is indeed his word, and is a workable book for daily problems and needs, the one workable book; making everything bend toward getting his will done. when we get up into his presence, this will be found to have been the one thing worth while. when the race story has been all told, the biography of earth brought to its last page, this will be the one thing that will stand out, and remain, that we let him use us just as he would, and that we have brought everything at our disposal to bear on doing his will of love. he comes to you and me afresh to-day with his old-time winsome patience, asking the use of us. he always thinks of us in two ways, for our own sakes and for our help in reaching the others. followers are messengers. some are special messengers in speech. but all are messengers in their lives; that is, they are meant to be. this is our lord's plan. he wants us to _live_ the message. that old word "witness" has grown to mean three things, that you _know_ something, that you _tell_ it, and that you tell it _with your life_. every time the word witness is used in the new testament it stands for some form of the word underneath from which our english word "martyr" comes. we have come to associate that word "martyr" with the idea of giving one's life in a violent way for the truth believed. this is the meaning that has grown into the word. but the practical meaning of this martyr-witness word goes a bit deeper yet than this. it is not merely giving the life out in the crisis of dying, but that the whole life is being given out in a continual martyrdom, that is, a continual witnessing. these words, follower, messenger, witness, run together. in following we are witnesses. we know something about this man who goes before, a blessed something that has entered into the marrow and joints of one's being. we tell it. we tell it chiefly by living it. we are messengers. the whole life is a message of what christ jesus has done for us, and is to us. a confession of faith in wood and nails. now, this is the thing--this _living it_--that god has always counted on most. there are in the bible most striking illustrations of lived or _acted messages_. one man actually preached a sermon nearly fifteen months long merely by the position of his body. you would call that a long sermon, but it had the desired result, at least partly. the man got the ears of the people. they were hardened sermon listeners. the talked sermons had no effect. so they were given an acted sermon. i think it may help to look at a few of the old-time followers. the one chief thing that marked these men was that they _lived the messages_. they experienced the truth they stood for, sometimes to the extent of much suffering. this _experience_ became part of the man's life. and this it was that god used as his message. you cannot be a follower fully without the thing taking your very life, and taking it to the feeling, deep-feeling, point. one of the earliest of these followers was _enoch_. his brief story is like the first crocus of spring coming up through the cold snow, like a pretty flower growing up out of the thin crack of earth between great stones. there was such a contrast with the surroundings. it is in the fifth of genesis, one of the most tiresome chapters in the whole bible. its tiresome monotony is an evidence of its inspiration; for it is a picture of life with god left out. there are five chapters in enoch's biography. he was born; with that he had nothing to do. like his lineal descendants and his neighbours he just "_lived"_ for a while, went through the usual physical and mental and social motions of life, no more. then a babe came into his household, a fresh act of god, a fresh call of god, one of god's loudest calls. this was the turning point. he must have heard and answered that call, for a new life began. he "walked with god." this became his chief trait. it stands in contrast with his former life. before he merely _lived_; now he was on a higher plane, he _walked with god_. the final chapter,--"god took him." they two had a long walk one day along the hilltops--or was it only a short walk?--and enoch never came back. god kept him. now, in all this enoch was god's messenger to the whole race. jude speaks of his prophesying or preaching. but the emphasis of this simple genesis biography is not on his preaching but on himself. that man walking about in his simple daily touch of heart with god,--that was the message. it wasn't an easy thing to do. the whole set of his time was against it. it was an evil time; impurity and violence were its outstanding traits. enoch's life cut straight across the grain of his time. he was the leader of the first racial family, the chief one in the direct line from adam. and he insisted on living habitually a simple, holy, pure life, walking with god, never out of touch. _following meant keeping in step with god, never missing step_. and this was talked about. every one knew it. he was doubtless felt to be out of touch with his time. and he was, blessedly out of touch. it was probably never harder to walk with god. but he did it. this is how he helped god. this is what he was asked to do. god was speaking to the whole race through this great man's simple habit of life. and he spoke still louder when, one day, he took him away. enoch's absence was the talk of the race. "he was not _found_." clearly they looked for him, looked everywhere and discussed him and his peculiar manner of life, his strange disappearance, and his freedom from death. so he met god's need. he became god's medium of communication to the entire race, simply in what he was, and so it is that most of us may help god. and if we will, he will be less needy, for he will speak through our lives to all whom we touch. following means walking with god. so we help god in his need. and enoch helped god to get _noah_. the touch of enoch is on his great-grandson. grace _is_ hereditary, when there's enough of it. enoch had the boldness to set a new standard. it was easier for noah to reach up toward it, when it was already set. now, noah was asked to do something more. enoch walked with god, the personal life was the one thing. noah walked with god, _and_ did something more. he was asked to believe something unusual. it was something that could be believed only by accepting god's word against every other circumstance and probability; that is, that a flood was coming to cover the whole earth, and destroy the race. and he was asked further to put his belief into the shape of an immense house-boat probably built where it wouldn't float except such a flood did come. that huge boat was his confession of faith. he acted his faith. it would be a costly thing, perhaps taking all noah's wealth, and taking some years to build. that belief was about the unlikeliest thing imaginable from every natural standpoint, _with god left out_. and god is _practically_ left out, except as a very last questionable consideration, then, and ever since, and to-day. probably noah was the butt of gossip and ridicule, quite possibly of scandal and reproach, year after year, by the whole race; and he would feel it, and feel it for his family's sake. that boat and its dreaming builder were the standing joke of the time. he was regarded as a fool, a fanatic, a poor, unbalanced enthusiast, building his gigantic boat on dry land! perhaps some regretted that he brought the cause of religion into reproach by being such an extremist. yet the only thing he did was to believe god's word, and to shape his conduct accordingly. he simply did as god asked. he heard god correctly. his ears were trained to hear. he did what god wanted, regardless of what people thought. that was how he helped god in his need. the race was saved through this fresh start, else it had burned out long ago. following meant a true life lived, _and faith in god expressed in wood and nails, and in good money paid out_, while men met him coldly on the road, or jeered. befriending god. long years afterward there was another man who helped god so decidedly that he became known as "the friend of god." and the word "friend" is used this time in the emergency sense. he did the thing god asked him to do, and this helped god in a plan he was working out for the whole race. god had to have a man. abraham was willing to be the man. and in that he became god's helpful friend. the thing god asked him to do seems very simple, and yet it was a radical thing for this man to do. he was to leave his father's family, and all his kinsfolk, and live _a separated life_, both from them and from all others. it is almost impossible for the west to realize how close and strong family ties are in the orient. separation meant an unusual, sad break in holiest ties. god was trying a new step in his fight against sin. he had separated the leader of sin from all others.[ ] he had removed all the race except a seed of good.[ ] both of these plans had failed, through man's failure. now a new, farther-reaching plan is begun. a man is separated from all others, to become the seed of a new nation, a _faith_ nation, which should be a different people from others, embodying in themselves god's ideals for all. abraham is asked to become a separated man in a peculiar sense, separate outwardly, separate in his worship of the true god, and separate in living a _faith_ life. it was to be a life dependent wholly on god regardless of outer circumstance or difficulty. there was a training time of twenty-five years before abraham was ready for the next step,--the bringing of the next in line of this new faith stock. separation, then still further separation, an open stand for god in the land of strangers, then a series of close personal tests, each entering into the marrow of his life,--this was the training to get the man ready to be a _faith_ father to his son, the next in line of a faith people. and the hardest test of all came after the child of faith had grown to manhood. then he became a child of faith in his own experience, as well as in his father's. following meant separation. it meant believing god against the unlikeliest circumstances, against nature itself, hoping in the midst of hopelessness. everything spelled out "hopelessness." god alone spelled out "hope." he took god against everything else. it meant going to school to god, until he could be used as god planned. and abraham consented. he followed. he helped god in his need. he befriended god; he became his friend in his need. but _every_ generation needs men. each new step in the plan needs a new man. in a sore crisis of that plan, long after, another man's name, _moses_, is known to us, _only_ because he singled himself out as being willing to let god use him. in his unconscious training, the training of circumstances into which it was natural to fit, he was peculiarly prepared for the future task. bred in egypt as the son of the ruler's household, he received the best school training of his day, with all the peculiar advantages of his position in the royal family. following meant more to moses, in what he gave up of worldly advantage, than to any other named in the bible record. egypt was the world empire of that day. moses was in the innermost imperial circles, and could easily have become the dominant spirit of the court, if not the successor to the pharaoh's throne. but he heard the call. his mother helped train his ears. he answered "yes" to god, without knowing how much was involved. following meant giving up, then a long course of training in the university of the desert, with the sheep and the stars and--god. it meant a repeated risking of his life not only in his bold dealings with pharaoh, but afterward with the nation-mob, mob-nation, whose leader, and father and school-teacher, and everything else, he had to be for forty years. and it meant much on the other side, too. "had moses failed to go, had god granted his prayer, there would have been for him no leadership to win; no pillared fire; no magic rod, no smiting of the sea; no tears ecstatic, shed on sinai's steep; no nebo, with a god to keep his burial; only forty years of desert, watching with his sheep." a yet deeper meaning. when we turn to the leaders of the latter years of the kingdom time of god's teacher-nation, the prophetic time, there is one thing that stands out sharply in the men god used. it was this, a man's inner personal life and experience were made use of to an unusual degree. it is as though the sacred inner life were sacrificed. the holy privacies were laid bare to the public gaze. the sweets of the inner holy of holies of the personal life were given up. the people were so far god-hardened that only _acted_ preaching, _lived_ messages, that took it out of one's very life, with pain in the taking, had any effect. this is most markedly so in the case of _hosea_, whose experience it seems almost if not wholly impossible for us to take in.[ ] it is true that the christianized west has conceptions of personal privacy to which the east is a stranger. yet, even so, the way in which these men were asked to yield up their inner personal lives, must have been a most marked thing to these orientals. for god used it as the one thing apparently, the extreme thing, to touch their hearts with his appeal. _isaiah_ had just such peculiar experiences. the birth of a son is planned for, and told of for the purpose of making more emphatic the message to the dull ears and slow heart of the nation.[ ] his two sons bore names of strange meaning, as a means of teaching truths that were peculiarly distasteful to the people. isaiah takes one of these strangely named sons as he goes to deliver a message to the king. and the son standing by his father's side is a reminder in his name of a disagreeable truth.[ ] a little later the man is actually required to go about barefooted, and without clothing sufficient for conventional respectability, and to continue this for three years.[ ] when we remember that he was not an erratic extremist, but a sober-minded, fine-grained gentleman of refinement and of a good family, it helps us to understand a little how hard-hearted and stubborn were a people that could be appealed to only in such a way. and it tells us, too, how utterly surrendered was the man who was willing thus to give up his private personal life. how much easier to have been simply an earnest, eloquent preacher, with his inner personal life lived free from public gaze, a thing sacred to himself. following meant the giving up of the sacred private life to a strangely marked degree, for god to use. even more marked are the experiences that _jeremiah_ was asked and consented to go through. it would seem as though the repeated conspiracies against his life, the repeated imprisonments in vile dungeons dangerous to health and life, and the shame of being put in the public stocks before the rabble, would have been much for god to ask, and for a man to give. but there is something that goes much farther and deeper into the very marrow of his life than these. he is bidden not to marry, not to have a family life of his own.[ ] and he obeyed. this was to be so only and solely as a message to the people. a message couched in such startling language they might listen to. again we must remember the oriental setting to appreciate the significance of this. in the east the unit of society is not the individual but the _family_. a man's marriage is planned for by the family, as a means of building up the family. to be childless and especially son-less was felt to be peculiarly unfortunate, almost bordering on disgrace. this meant for jeremiah not only the loss of personal joys and delights, but that his line would be broken off from his father's family. he would be without heir, or future, in the family history. so following meant going yet deeper into the inner personal life, for the sake of god's plan. this giant's strength is revealed in nothing more than in his tear-wet laments over his people. and he gave all this strength to following. he said "yes" to god's need and request, though it must have taken his very life to say it. but _ezekiel_ was asked to do something even beyond this. he was the messenger of god to the colony of hebrew exiles in assyria. his accounts of the visions of god reveal a remarkable power of detailed description, and a remarkably strong mentality. strange to say, these people in captivity are yet harder to reach than were their fathers in their native land. yet, not strange, for the human heart is the same when it won't open to the purifying of the upper currents of air. here the man himself literally became the message. he actually lay upon his left side for thirteen months and then on his right side for six weeks longer. during all that time he ate food that was particularly repugnant, and it was carefully weighed out, and the water as carefully measured out for his use. he had to rise, no doubt, for various reasons, but the bulk of the time for nearly fifteen months he lay out where all could see him. his fellow-exiles, i suppose, looked and wondered, laughed and gossiped perhaps, and then as time wore on, they thought and thought more, and were awed as they began slowly to take in the meaning of this strange message of god. thereafter ezekiel was the leader, to whose house the leaders of the colony came, and to whose words they intently listened. but there was a yet deeper meaning to following than we have found yet. it is a meaning that awes one's heart into amazed silence. he was married. his wife is spoken of very tenderly as "the desire of thine eyes." he was told that she would be taken away out of his life. she would die. that was the great thing. then he was not to mourn outwardly for her; this was the second thing. he was to be before the people as though the greatest sorrow of his life had not happened. is it any wonder the people came astonished to know what this meant? the simple brevity with which he tells of the occurrence takes hold of one's heart. "so i spake unto the people in the morning; and at even my wife died; and i did in the morning as i was commanded."[ ] there was no questioning, no hesitancy of action, but a simple, prompt obedience, even though his heart was breaking. this was what god asked of him. god needed this in his dealings with these people of his in whom his world-plan centred. how desperate must have been the need that called for such an experience as this! ezekiel said "yes" even to this. surely there was here some of that calvary meaning, of the secondary sort, of which we have spoken together. following meant not only giving his personality and life, but now it meant giving what must have been more than life itself. through fire. to _daniel_ following meant something essentially different. he was not a messenger to his own people, nor their leader. he was a messenger to the great world-rulers of his time, through the visions he interpreted, and through his unbending faithfulness and purity of life; the thing that stands out largest is the life he lived, a life of simplicity in habit, of purity and consistency, with an unwavering faith in god. god _could_ use him to speak to the great emperors. so he helped god to get his message to men so hard to reach through a human channel. following meant a pure life. it was daniel's insistence on being pure and true that shut him up with the wild beasts. and it was through his unflinching fidelity and persistence that god could send his message anew, in the most public manner, out to all the millions of that great world-empire. following meant to a marked degree a pure life as the basis of the service rendered. it proved to mean a lions' den, _and_ the power of god overcoming the instincts of ravenous beasts. but clear beyond these it meant that god could reach his world with his message to an unusual extent. _daniel's three companions_ helped god by means of a most thrilling experience, a really terrible experience. god had been pleading with the great nebuchadnezzar through daniel's message. now he wants to speak again in a way that will compel attention. he needs these three young men. they consent to be his messengers. it meant going through a terrible ordeal. they simply remained true in their personal devotion to god. this was the thing god needed, and used. everything of use to god roots down in the life. the personal plea of the great king, and the prospect of a horrible death fail alike to move them. they probably had quite resigned themselves to the fate of being burned alive for the truth. but god had a different purpose. he was thinking about this ruler with whom he dealt so personally and unusually, time and again. the three men, walking quietly up and down in the seven-times heated furnace in company with a glorious looking person "like a son of the gods"--this was the message god wanted spoken to the ruler he was pleading with. his strangely marvellous power, and his personal regard for his faithful followers--this was what god was trying to say to nebuchadnezzar. he asked the use of these three young men. their personal loyalty to himself even unto death--this was what he wanted. _through_ this he reached the heart of the man he was after. the experience of these men is an intensely interesting study. it was a fearful ordeal that they went through. yet it was wholly mental, and of the spirit. they suffered no pain of body, nor inconvenience. the fire only made them free, burned up the bonds that held them. it took great strength of will, of decision, to stay steady through all the fearful test. yet _nothing happened to their bodies_ except to help them. god took care of that. they gave him what he asked. he gave them more than they expected. they probably expected death and were willing. god had a deeper plan he was working out. how glad they must have been that they followed fully, that they didn't disappoint god. following meant simply being true, even though the road led through a furnace. god would attend to the furnace. their part was simply to follow where he led. and our god is needing just such acted messages to-day. he is longing for just such opportunities to reveal his power and love, not merely _to us_, but through us to his world. let us take time for one more of these faithful followers. this time it is a young woman. it is at the most critical juncture of god's plan, thus far. he needed a woman whom he could use to bring his son, and could use further to mother that son's early years. all unconsciously mary of nazareth and of bethlehem was fitting into his plan in her life, her simple, pure, godly, personal life. we can understand that god wooed her especially to such a life of heart devotion as a preparation for the after part. and she said "yes" to all his wooings, never suspecting what was to come of it. you never know how much a simple "yes" to god may mean, _or_ a "no." you never know how much of service may grow out of the true life. yet all true service is something coming out of the life. then the plan of god was made known to her,--the marvellous plan, yet so simple to him. and again she said a simple, awed "yes." she waits only long enough to ask the natural, woman's question as to method. there was no questioning of god's power, what he could do, and would do. it came to mean hurting suspicion, peculiarly hurting to as pure and gentle a soul as she. apparently this was unavoidable. it speaks volumes for her openness of both mind and heart to god, that she instantly took in gabriel's meaning, and could take it in that such an unprecedented thing was possible. it would have saved her the cruel suspicion if joseph had been told beforehand, but the whole probability is that he could not have taken it in that such a thing was possible. following meant the glad "yes" to the early wooing up to a pure devoted life. it meant saying a further "yes" to the plan of god even though something so unusual, and with it the misunderstanding and cruel suspicion, on the one point most sensitive to a woman, and by the one nearest her. but she said "yes" both times. she let god have the use of her life for his plan. that was all he asked. that is all he asks. but that is what he asks. these are a few of the glorious company of followers, the goodly fellowship of those who have helped god in his passionate plan for his world, the noble army of willing ones. but the number is incomplete. the plan is not yet fully worked out. the need is not yet wholly met. it was never more urgent. to-day the insistent voice still comes as of old, asking you and me to follow. and no one can tell how much _his_ following may mean to god in reaching his world. the glory of the goal,--face to face "with you always.". have you ever _seen christ_? no, i don't mean have you been to some uplifting convention, and been tremendously caught by some talented, earnest speaker, and been swayed by the atmosphere of the hour and place, and felt that all was not just as it should be with you; and then you prayed more, and made some new resolves, or re-made some old ones, and left off some things, and put on some things; i don't mean that, but this--have you ever _seen christ_? no, of course, you don't see him with these outer eyes. well, then just what do i mean practically? _this_--has there come to you a real sense of himself? of his presence? of the tremendous plea his presence makes? and, possibly, you don't know just how to answer. you say, "i'm not just sure," or "how can i know?" well, you'll never say it that way, nor ask that question again after the experience has come. may i tell you a little bit about it? yet, mark you, only "a little bit." you can never _tell_ another one what it means to see _him_. when once the sight has come, every word you utter about it, or him, seems so lame and weak that you despair of ever being able to let out at your lips what has gotten into you. but let me try, even if lamely, in the eager yearning that it may help you know if, thus far, you have missed seeing _him_, and maybe--so much better--help you to _see_ him. for until you have--well, nothing, absolutely nothing, is worth while. when you see him there comes such a sense of _his purity_ that, instantly, you are down on your face in utter despair, because of your own self--your impurity; your lack of purity; the sharp contrast between him and you. you feel that young isaiah's outcry in the temple that morning is wholly inadequate. "unclean lips," is it? why, the whole thing, from innermost recesses clear through and out, is unclean. then it dawns upon you that this is really what isaiah is feeling and trying to express in his "woe" and "undone." and that vivid sense of contrast between him and you never grows less, but more acute and deeper. even when you come to know him better, and the sweet peace comes with its untellable balm to your spirit, yet you are always conscious of the contrast, and you know that _you_ are not pure; only _he_ is; and all you can do is to keep under the cleansing stream of his blood, very low down. "never higher than his piercèd feet, never farther than his bleeding side." with that comes such a sense of _himself_, of his--what word can tell it?--his glory,--which means simply his character, what he is in himself--that again words can never tell out the sense of your own littleness; no, that is not the word, your own _nothingness_. and now you recall, with an inner shrinking, how well you have thought of yourself, how much you have talked about yourself and your view of things, perhaps in the language of a properly phrased humility. now you are dumb. his presence dumbs you. you begin to wonder at the strange self-confidence and self-complacence that have been so common even in your holiest moments and experiences. it seems, in this presence, as though you could never open your lips again--except to speak of _him_. then your eyes are drawn more intently to his person,--his face, his wounds. the scars where the thorns tore his great, patient face; the grief-whitened hair, draped above those deep, tender, unspeakable eyes; that strangely rough place in the palm so lovingly outstretched; the spear-scar, the nail-marks in those feet coming over to you,--these grip you. their meaning begins to come. there's cleansing; yes, blessed fact! there's _cleansing_ from this horrid impurity whose stain you are so conscious of. yet, what it cost him! what my impurity forced upon him! yes, cleansed; blessed jesus! what a relief to be cleansed! yet i must _stay_ under the stream; only so can the sense of relief be continual. and i must stay down on my face at his feet. it is the only place for such as i discover myself to be. yet what grace to let me stay at his feet! have you _seen christ_? this is what begins to come when you have--his purity, your contrasted lack; his glorious self, your own nothingness in yourself; his suffering--the price of your cleansing. this is only a beginning, yet a beginning that comes to be the continuous thing. closer acquaintance. after a little, as you are sitting still in his presence, and have become a bit quieter after that flush of first emotions at seeing him, you begin to be caught all anew with how _lovable_ he is. this takes great hold of you. i overheard a once-drunken, now thoroughly changed man, up in scotland, as he was fairly pouring out his heart in prayer in his sweet, broad scotch,--"once thou didst have no form or comeliness to me, but now"--and it seemed as if all the pent-up feelings within rushed at once to flood-tide--"_now_ thou art the chiefest among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely." and the high-water mark of the flood was touched on "chiefest" and "altogether." that first look made you think mostly of your-self--an inner loathing. now you think of _him_. he is so lovable, so true and tender, and patient and pure; again your language gives out, and you feel better content just to look without trying to use words. they're such poor things when it comes to telling about him. he is so much more than anything that can be said about him. his will is so wise and thoughtful and far-reaching and loving. strange how stupid you have been in insisting so strenuously and blindly on having your own way. his plan, his thought about everything concerning you, is _so_ superb. and he asks me to be his follower. what joy! what if the way be a bit rough; it's following _him_; that's enough. he calls me to be his personal friend. i can hardly take it in,--his _friend_? yes, that's his own word. well, let any thorns tear because of the narrowing of the road; i'm his friend, man, do you hear? his _friend_,--do you get hold of that word? what can any thorn thing do against that! "we" may go hand in hand now,--his is pierced; i feel the scar where our hands touch. but we're together at last, _the_ thing he has been working for. i can feel his presence. i can hear the low music of his voice within. thorns don't count here. oh, yes, i _feel_ them; they haven't lost their power to slash and sting,--but--with _him_ so close alongside!--wondrous christ, here i am at thy feet, thy glad slave forever. i'm wholly thine. it's my own choice. i'll never go any other way by thy grace. this is the second bit that comes, the glad surrender of life to his mastery. do you know about this? you will, when you've _seen christ_. then you come to know, without being able to tell just how, that he is not only _with_ you, but _within_ you. at first his presence may have seemed as something outside yourself. you were looking away at some one who was looking at you. and his look at you broke your heart, and made your will, once so strangely strong in itself, now as strangely pliable to his as only a strong will can be. but now he is living within you. you may not be clear just how the change came. but you do know that there's a something which you come to know is a some one, who is within. his presence is peace past understanding, but not past appreciation. there's a longing for his word, a desire to talk with him even when you don't want to ask for something, a deep heart-cry for purity, a burning within to please him. these all seem to come from him, and at the same time to be satisfied by himself, even while they remain and increase. and yet more, while this presence within seems so quietly real and exquisitely peace-bringing, there is still the outer presence, the one whose presence it was at the first that brought all this change. two presences, one above, enthroned there; one within, enthroned there; yet they seem the same, as though one personality with two presences had come into your consciousness. there's the lord jesus above at the father's right hand; here's the holy spirit within at my right hand,[ ] yet in practical effect they are as one, while one's thought is always directed to the lord jesus both within and above. the presence within makes you think wholly of the presence above, who yet seems also to be within. you are getting a taste of the practical meaning of the trinity now, three that in effect are as one. but you are too much taken up with the gladness of it to think about the metaphysics of it. he--whether within, or above, or both--is so much more than words. the experience is so much more than any explanation. you are not concerned about the explanation so long as you can have the sweet experience. the final goal. this is the third bit that comes when you've seen christ, the gracious indwelling of the lord jesus' other self, the holy spirit. but if you have seen him, you are probably not counting steps nor analyzing processes, but just singing a bit of joyous praise to him. then there's _the outer turn; he_ does that. he draws you to himself, and yet at the same time sends you away--no, not _from_ him--_for_ him, out to the others he hungers after, even as after you. up, in, out,--so he draws and directs, up to himself, in by contrast to one's self with a holding hard to him while looking within, then a sending out to the others. he kindles a fire, he is a fire, drawing, burning, cleansing, warming, then driving you forth, and doing all at the same time. wondrous fine, this fire of love--of his heart--of himself. the common word for this is "service." the word doesn't matter much. service is a good word. but the thing that comes seems so much more than this word seems to contain. that hand that was pierced, which has been to you so tender and warm, and in its clasp so expressive of this wondrous friendship--that hand now leads you where you had not thought of going. _and you go_,--aghast almost at first at the radical change in your carefully worked out plans, losing your breath for a moment as you wonder what "they" _will_ think (though "they" never will _understand_, unless--ah, yes, unless they see _him_). that hand reaches in where your life touches others, in the family, the business circle, the social circle, and moulds you over anew in the old relationships, not taking you away from them (though there may be some partings), but making you a new presence in the midst of them. that hand reaches into your pocket, and your safety-deposit box, in among the title papers and securities, and shakes off the dust and rust, and sends them out on an errand after the others. that fire--himself--draws all into the smelting-pot. its alchemy transmutes possessions into lives, redeemed, sweetened, jesus-touched, christ-renewed lives, made like himself. and the sweet music of their new lives comes up into _his_ gladdened ears, and a few of the strains come to cheer you. one may have at first a strange feeling of bareness, for things that we've always clung to as essential have gone out from us to others. but with the outgoing of things has come an incoming of _himself_, in greater abundance than we dreamed possible. he, within, completely overbalances what he has sent out from us into use. _he_--he is _everything_. the usual word for all this is "service," a blessed word. yet service seems to suggest your doing something for him among others. this is quite different. it is _his_ doing something _with_ you for others. the thing itself is so much more than any word. christ is so much more than anything you say about him. the truth is always less than himself. but one never understands how much that means till he has seen christ. have _you_ seen christ? then others shall see him, too, in you, and through you. this is the glory of the goal--face to face with himself. it begins now. it is a very real thing. this is a bit of the meaning of that mountain beatitude, "the pure in heart ... shall _see god_." yet only he who sees understands what seeing means. the subtle intensity of god's presence cannot be explained, only understood by the purified in heart. only the opened eyes see. but this is only a beginning. there will be the far greater glory of the final goal, as we come into his immediate presence, literally face to face. that may be when we are called away from the lower road up to the higher reaches, above the clouds and the blue, the glory-reaches, up where he now sits. it may be by that goal coming nearer, by himself actually coming on the clouds in great glory, for his own and for the next chapter in his great world-plan. then we shall be caught up into his presence. then we shall be fully like him, for we shall see him as he is. and we shall be sharers in his glory, in the kingdom time of glad earth service. but we shall be thinking only of himself--face to face. footnotes [ ] john i. , , , ; colossians i. ; ii corinthians iv. ; philippians ii. ; hebrews i. . [ ] john xv. ; psalm xxv. ; isaiah xli. ; ii chronicles xx. ; james ii. . [ ] matthew iv. ; where the emphatic word is "man," standing in contrast with "son of god" in verse . [ ] acts xvii. ; job xii. ; daniel v. l.c.; psalm cxxxix. - . [ ] philippians ii. - . [ ] romans xii. ; deuteronomy xxxii. ; psalm xciv. ; proverbs xx. ; i peter ii. ; i corinthians xiii. , second clause. [ ] john xi. , ; xii. , ; luke x. . [ ] deuteronomy viii. , . [ ] matthew v. . [ ] john viii. , . [ ] genesis i. - . [ ] philippians ii. ; hebrews v. ; romans v. l.c.; john x. l.c. [ ] hebrews ii. . [ ] hebrews xii. . [ ] romans iii. , latter half; free reading--"that he (god) might be seen to be just and righteous in forgiving a man's sin when he trusted in jesus." [ ] eden: delight. [ ] genesis ii. - . [ ] genesis iii. , [ ] genesis iv.-vi. [ ] genesis vi. ; deuteronomy v. ; psalm lxxxi. ; isaiah xlviii. . [ ] mark xii. - ; ii chronicles xxxvi. , --these passages, and many similar, while speaking directly of the one nation israel, are giving a picture of the heart of god toward all men, and his habit of action. israel itself was the messenger-nation, whose life was meant to be god's message of love to all the race. [ ] john i. - , especially verses - , . [ ] john i. f.c. [ ] matthew ii. , . [ ] john i. - . [ ] e. c. clephane. [ ] psalm xl. f.c.; john iv. ; hebrews xii. . [ ] matthew xi. . [ ] matthew iv. , with luke v. - . [ ] matthew xi. , . [ ] john xiii. -xvi. . [ ] john xx. . [ ] matthew xxviii. - . [ ] john i. - . [ ] matthew iv. - , with luke v. - . [ ] matthew x. - ; mark iii. - ; luke vi. - . [ ] matthew xvi. - . [ ] matthew xvi. ; mark viii. ; luke ix. . [ ] matthew xxvi. . [ ] john xxi. - . [ ] acts v. . [ ] i john. [ ] acts i, . [ ] luke xiv. - . [ ] mark x. - . [ ] in "other sheep," by harold begbie. [ ] luke xiv. - , with matthew v. . [ ] luke xxi. . [ ] mark x. - . [ ] acts xxii. , with ix. - . [ ] luke xxiv. ; john xx. . [ ] john i. - . [ ] romans viii. ; hebrews vii. . [ ] i john ii. ; hebrews ix. . [ ] isaiah xi ; lxi. , with luke iv. - . [ ] psalm xxv. f.c. [ ] john iii. f.c. [ ] isaiah xliv. ; john vii. - . [ ] acts viii. - , - . [ ] matthew v. . [ ] isaiah xxxviii. , margin. [ ] matthew iv. ; ix. . [ ] luke v. , . the language underneath here suggests a habitual going aside to pray, as an offset to the work with the crowds. [ ] matthew xxv. . [ ] james i. , . [ ] matthew vi. . [ ] james i. . [ ] matthew xxvi. . [ ] john xiii., xiv. [ ] john xv., xvi. [ ] john xvii. [ ] lucy rider meyer. [ ] exodus xxxii. , [ ] romans ix. - . [ ] ii corinthians iv. . [ ] colossians i. . [ ] i corinthians xv. , . [ ] acts i. . [ ] matthew xxvii. , . [ ] matthew xxvii. , . [ ] john xii. . [ ] john xii. - . [ ] isaiah v. . [ ] matthew xvi. - . [ ] john xv. [ ] hebrews xii. . [ ] ii corinthians iii. . [ ] romans viii. . [ ] ii corinthians iv. . "dying" in these two passages does not mean being in the process of dissolution, but that the body is subject to death. [ ] ephesians i. , ; acts ii. ; john xiv. , ; romans viii. ; hebrews vii. ; ix. . [ ] colossians iii. i; ephesians ii. . [ ] psalm xxii. , . [ ] revelation ii. , ; v. ; xx. . [ ] psalm lxxxiv. . [ ] anonymous, in "egyptian mission news," copied from s. m. zwemer's "unoccupied fields of the world." [ ] hebrews x. , . [ ] revelation ii., iii. [ ] numbers xiv. xxxii. ; deuteronomy i. ; joshua xiv. , , . [ ] matthew xvi. . [ ] john xii. . [ ] john vi. . [ ] matthew xix. . [ ] luke ix. - . [ ] genesis xvi. [ ] galatians ii - . [ ] luke ii. . [ ] zechariah xiv. . [ ] hebrews xiii. , . [ ] exodus xxxii. , . [ ] romans ix. - . [ ] psalm xlix. . [ ] genesis iv. - . [ ] genesis vi. , . [ ] hosea i. - ; iii - . [ ] isaiah vii. - . [ ] isaiah viii. - . [ ] isaiah xx. - . [ ] jeremiah xvi. - . [ ] ezekiel xxiv. - . [ ] psalm xvi. . note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) choice readings for the home circle i know not where his islands lift their fronded palms in air, i only know i can not drift beyond his love and care. --_whittier_ [illustration: home, sweet home] published by m. a. vroman th ave. n. nashville, tenn. western offices: san jose ave., san francisco, calif. chestnut st., glendale, calif. entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by m. a. vroman, in the office of the librarian of congress, washington, d.c. all rights reserved. copyright , by martin a. vroman. preface. the compiler of this volume has been gathering a large amount of moral and religious reading, from which selections have been made, admitting only those which may be read with propriety on the sabbath. this volume will be found to contain the best lessons for the family circle, such as will inculcate principles of obedience to parents, kindness and affection to brothers and sisters and youthful associates, benevolence to the poor, and the requirements of the gospel. these virtuous principles are illustrated by instances of conformity to them, or departure from them, in such a manner as to lead to their love and practice. great care has been taken in compiling this volume to avoid introducing into it anything of a sectarian or denominational character that might hinder its free circulation among any denomination, or class of society, where there is a demand for moral and religious literature. the illustrations were made especially for this book, and are the result of much careful study. the family circle can be instructed and impressed by high-toned moral and religious lessons in no better way during a leisure hour of the sabbath, when not engaged in the solemn worship of god, than to listen to one of their number who shall read from this precious volume. may the blessing of god attend it to every home circle that shall give it a welcome, is the prayer of the publisher. note to the public this is the same book formerly known as "sabbath readings for the home circle," _the subject matter remaining unchanged_. we believe all who read this book will heartily accord with us in our desire to see it placed in every home in the land, and will do their part toward this good end. the stories and poems it contains cover nearly all phases of life's experiences. each one presents lessons which can but tend to make the reader better and nobler. this decidedly valuable and interesting work now enters upon its sixth edition, one hundred thirty thousand copies, with the demand rapidly increasing. many have joined us in canvassing for it, and it has proved to be not only a noble work and a service to the people, but it brings good financial returns. many students have worked their way through school by using their vacations in this work. the publisher's _name_ and _address_ is on the title page, and he will see that _all orders_ are promptly and carefully _filled,_ and all letters of inquiry cheerfully answered. address nearest office. believing that the "choice readings for the home circle" will be appreciated by all lovers of the true and beautiful, and that the book will make for itself not only a place, but a warm welcome, in thousands of homes during the coming year, it is cheerfully and prayerfully sent on its mission by the publisher. contents affecting scene in a saloon a good lesson spoiled a kind word a life lesson a mountain prayer-meeting an instructive anecdote another commandment a retired merchant a rift in the cloud be just before generous benevolent society bread upon the waters caught in the quicksand christ our refuge company manners effect of novel reading evening prayer every heart has its own sorrow grandmother's room hard times conquered herrings for nothing how it was blotted out live within your means look to your thoughts lyman dean's testimonials make it plain "my house" and "our house" nellie alton's mother never indorse only a husk out of the wrong pocket over the crossing put yourself in my place richest man in the parish ruined at home speak to strangers story of school life success if the reward of perseverance susie's prayer the belle of the ballroom the fence story the happy new year the indian's revenge the infidel captain the little sisters the major's cigar the premium the record the right decision the scripture quilt the ten commandments the widow's christmas the young musician tom's trial unforgotten words with a will, joe "what shall it profit?" why he didn't smoke poems a christian life alone an infinite giver believe and trust consolation did you ever think? do with your might forgive and forget good-bye--god bless you! life that lasts loving words mother "once again" our neighbors our record reaping song of the rye stop and look around! the dark first the father is near the lord's prayer the master's hand the shadow of the cross the way to overcome to-day's furrow walking with god watch your words what counts what to mind your call list of illustrations home, sweet home frontispiece while he slept his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat christ blessing little children christ the good shepherd paul at athens pure religion is visiting the fatherless and widows in their affliction grandmother's room come unto me christ in the home of mary and martha he is not here; he is risen god be merciful to me a sinner announcement to shepherds pledges against the use of liquor and tobacco the sabbath sabbaths, like way-marks, cheer the pilgrim's path, his progress mark, and keep his rest in view. in life's bleak winter, they are pleasant days, short foretaste of the long, long spring to come. to every new-born soul, each hallowed morn seems like the first, when everything was new. time seems an angel come afresh from heaven, his pinions shedding fragrance as he flies, and his bright hour-glass running sands of gold. --_carlos wilcox._ the indian's revenge the beautiful precept, "do unto others as you would that they should do unto you," is drawn from our lord's sermon on the mount, and should be observed by all professing christians. but unless we are truly his children, we can never observe this great command as we ought. history records the fact that the roman emperor severus was so much struck with the moral beauty and purity of this sentiment, that he ordered the "golden rule," to be inscribed upon the public buildings erected by him. many facts may be stated, by which untutored heathen and savage tribes in their conduct have put to shame many of those calling themselves christians, who have indeed the form of godliness, but by their words and actions deny the power of it. one such fact we here relate. many years ago, on the outskirts of one of our distant new settlements, was a small but neat and pretty cottage, or homestead, which belonged to an industrious young farmer. he had, when quite a lad, left his native england, and sought a home and fortune among his american brethren. it was a sweet and quiet place; the cottage was built upon a gently rising ground, which sloped toward a sparkling rivulet, that turned a large sawmill situated a little lower down the stream. the garden was well stocked with fruit-trees and vegetables, among which the magnificent pumpkins were already conspicuous, though as yet they were wanting in the golden hue which adorns them in autumn. on the hillside was an orchard, facing the south, filled with peach and cherry-trees, the latter now richly laden with their crimson fruit. in that direction also extended the larger portion of the farm, now in a high state of cultivation, bearing heavy crops of grass, and indian corn just coming into ear. on the north and east, the cottage was sheltered by extensive pine woods, beyond which were fine hunting-grounds, where the settlers, when their harvests were housed, frequently resorted in large numbers to lay in a stock of dried venison for winter use. at that time the understanding between the whites and the indians, was not good; and they were then far more numerous than they are at the present time, and more feared. it was not often, however, that they came into the neighborhood of the cottage which has been described, though on one or two occasions a few minateree indians had been seen on the outskirts of the pine forests, but had committed no outrages, as that tribe was friendly with the white men. it was a lovely evening in june. the sun had set, though the heavens still glowed with those exquisite and radiant tints which the writer, when a child, used to imagine were vouchsafed to mortals to show them something while yet on earth, of the glories of the new jerusalem. the moon shed her silvery light all around, distinctly revealing every feature of the beautiful scene which has been described, and showed the tall, muscular figure of william sullivan, who was seated upon the door-steps, busily employed in preparing his scythes for the coming hay season. he was a good-looking young fellow, with a sunburnt, open countenance; but though kind-hearted in the main, he was filled with prejudices, acquired when in england, against americans in general, and the north american indians in particular. as a boy he had been carefully instructed by his mother, and had received more education than was common in those days; but of the sweet precepts of the gospel he was as practically ignorant as if he had never heard them, and in all respects was so thoroughly an englishman, that he looked with contempt on all who could not boast of belonging to his own favored country. the indians he especially despised and detested as heathenish creatures, forgetful of the fact that he who has been blessed with opportunities and privileges, and yet has abused them, is in as bad a case, and more guilty in the sight of god, than these ignorant children of the wilds. so intent was he upon his work, that he heeded not the approach of a tall indian, accoutred for a hunting excursion, until the words:-- "will you give an unfortunate hunter some supper, and a lodging for the night?" in a tone of supplication, met his ear. the young farmer raised his head; a look of contempt curling the corners of his mouth, and an angry gleam darting from his eyes, as he replied in a tone as uncourteous as his words:-- "heathen indian dog, you shall have nothing here; begone!" the indian turned away; then again facing young sullivan, he said in a pleading voice:-- "but i am very hungry, for it is very long since i have eaten; give only a crust of bread and a bone to strengthen me for the remainder of my journey." "get you gone, heathen hound," said the farmer; "i have nothing for you." a struggle seemed to rend the breast of the indian hunter, as though pride and want were contending for the mastery; but the latter prevailed, and in a faint voice he said:-- "give me but a cup of cold water, for i am very faint." this appeal was no more successful than the others. with abuse he was told to drink of the river which flowed some distance off. this was all that he could obtain from one who called himself a christian, but who allowed prejudice and obstinacy to steel his heart--which to one of his own nation would have opened at once--to the sufferings of his redskinned brother. with a proud yet mournful air the indian turned away, and slowly proceeded in the direction of the little river. the weak steps of the native showed plainly that his need was urgent; indeed he must have been reduced to the last extremity, ere the haughty indian would have asked again and again for that which had been once refused. happily his supplicating appeal was heard by the farmer's wife. rare indeed is it that the heart of woman is steeled to the cry of suffering humanity; even in the savage wilds of central africa, the enterprising and unfortunate mungo park was over and over again rescued from almost certain death by the kind and generous care of those females whose husbands and brothers thirsted for his blood. the farmer's wife, mary sullivan, heard the whole as she sat hushing her infant to rest; and from the open casement she watched the poor indian until she saw his form sink, apparently exhausted, to the ground, at no great distance from her dwelling. perceiving that her husband had finished his work, and was slowly bending his steps toward the stables with downcast eyes--for it must be confessed he did not feel very comfortable--she left the house, and was soon at the poor indian's side, with a pitcher of milk in her hand, and a napkin, in which was a plentiful meal of bread and roasted kid, with a little parched corn as well. "will my red brother drink some milk?" said mary, bending over the fallen indian; and as he arose to comply with her invitation, she untied the napkin and bade him eat and be refreshed. when he had finished, the indian knelt at her feet, his eyes beamed with gratitude, then in his soft tone, he said: "carcoochee protect the white dove from the pounces of the eagle; for her sake the unfledged young shall be safe in its nest, and her red brother will not seek to be revenged." drawing a bunch of heron's feathers from his bosom, he selected the longest, and giving it to mary sullivan, said: "when the white dove's mate flies over the indian's hunting-grounds, bid him wear this on his head." he then turned away; and gliding into the woods, was soon lost to view. the summer passed away; harvest had come and gone; the wheat and maize, or indian corn, was safely stored in the yard; the golden pumpkins were gathered into their winter quarters, and the forests glowed with the rich and varied tints of autumn. preparations now began to be made for a hunting excursion, and william sullivan was included in the number who were going to try their fortune on the hunting-grounds beyond the river and the pine forests. he was bold, active, and expert in the use of his rifle and woodman's hatchet, and hitherto had always hailed the approach of this season with peculiar enjoyment, and no fears respecting the not unusual attacks of the indians, who frequently waylaid such parties in other and not very distant places, had troubled him. but now, as the time of their departure drew near, strange misgivings relative to his safety filled his mind, and his imagination was haunted by the form of the indian whom in the preceding summer he had so harshly treated. on the eve of the day on which they were to start, he made known his anxiety to his gentle wife, confessing at the same time that his conscience had never ceased to reproach him for his unkind behavior. he added, that since then all that he had learned in his youth from his mother upon our duty to our neighbors had been continually in his mind; thus increasing the burden of self-reproach, by reminding him that his conduct was displeasing in the sight of god, as well as cruel toward a suffering brother. mary sullivan heard her husband in silence. when he had done, she laid her hand in his, looking up into his face with a smile, which was yet not quite free from anxiety, and then she told him what she had done when the indian fell down exhausted upon the ground, confessing at the same time that she had kept this to herself, fearing his displeasure, after hearing him refuse any aid. going to a closet, she took out the beautiful heron's feather, repeating at the same time the parting words of the indian, and arguing from them that her husband might go without fear. "nay," said sullivan, "these indians never forgive an injury." "neither do they ever forget a kindness," added mary. "i will sew this feather in your hunting-cap, and then trust you, my own dear husband, to god's keeping; but though i know he could take care of you without it, yet i remember my dear father used to say that we were never to neglect the use of all lawful means for our safety. his maxim was, 'trust like a child, but work like a man'; for we must help ourselves if we hope to succeed, and not expect miracles to be wrought on our behalf, while we quietly fold our arms and do nothing." "dear william," she added, after a pause, "now that my father is dead and gone, i think much more of what he used to say than when he was with me; and i fear that we are altogether wrong in the way we are going on, and i feel that if we were treated as we deserve, god would forget us, and leave us to ourselves, because we have so forgotten him." the tears were in mary's eyes as she spoke; she was the only daughter of a pious english sailor, and in early girlhood had given promise of becoming all that a religious parent could desire. but her piety was then more of the head than of the heart; it could not withstand the trial of the love professed for her by sullivan, who was anything but a serious character, and like "the morning cloud and the early dew," her profession of religion vanished away, and as his wife she lost her relish for that in which she once had taken such delight. she was very happy in appearance, yet there was a sting in all her pleasures, and that was the craving of a spirit disquieted and restless from the secret though ever-present conviction that she had sinned in departing from the living god. by degrees these impressions deepened; the spirit of grace was at work within, and day after day was bringing to her memory the truths she had heard in childhood and was leading her back from her wanderings by a way which she knew not. a long conversation followed; and that night saw the young couple kneeling for the first time in prayer at domestic worship. the morning that witnessed the departure of the hunters was one of surpassing beauty. no cloud was to be seen upon the brow of william sullivan. the bright beams of the early sun seemed to have dissipated the fears which had haunted him on the previous evening, and it required an earnest entreaty on the part of his wife to prevent his removing the feather from his cap. she held his hand while she whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver agitated his lips as he said, "well, mary dear, if you really think this feather will protect me from the redskins, for your sake i will let it remain." william then put on his cap, shouldered his rifle, and the hunters were soon on their way seeking for game. the day wore away as is usual with people on such excursions. many animals were killed, and at night the hunters took shelter in the cave of a bear, which one of the party was fortunate enough to shoot, as he came at sunset toward the bank of the river. his flesh furnished them with some excellent steaks for supper, and his skin spread upon a bed of leaves pillowed their heads through a long november night. with the first dawn of morning, the hunters left their rude shelter and resumed the chase. william, in consequence of following a fawn too ardently, separated from his companions, and in trying to rejoin them became bewildered. hour after hour he sought in vain for some mark by which he might thread the intricacy of the forest, the trees of which were so thick that it was but seldom that he could catch a glimpse of the sun; and not being much accustomed to the woodman's life, he could not find his way as one of them would have done, by noticing which side of the trees was most covered with moss or lichen. several times he started in alarm, for he fancied that he could see the glancing eyeballs of some lurking indian, and he often raised his gun to his shoulder, prepared to sell his life as dearly as he could. toward sunset the trees lessened and grew thinner, and by and by he found himself upon the outskirts of an immense prairie, covered with long grass, and here and there with patches of low trees and brushwood. a river ran through this extensive tract, and toward it sullivan directed his lagging footsteps. he was both faint and weary, not having eaten anything since the morning. on the bank of the river there were many bushes, therefore sullivan approached with caution, having placed his rifle at half-cock, to be in readiness against any danger that might present itself. he was yet some yards from its brink, when a rustling in the underwood made him pause, and the next instant out rushed an enormous buffalo. these animals usually roam through the prairies in immense herds, sometimes amounting to many thousands in number; but occasionally they are met with singly, having been separated from the main body either by some accident, or by the indians, who show the most wonderful dexterity in hunting these formidable creatures. the buffalo paused for a moment, and then lowering his enormous head, rushed forward toward the intruder. sullivan took aim; but the beast was too near to enable him to do so with that calmness and certainty which would have insured success, and though slightly wounded, it still came on with increased fury. sullivan was a very powerful man, and though weakened by his long fast and fatiguing march, despair gave him courage and nerved his arm with strength, and with great presence of mind he seized the animal as it struck him on the side with its horn, drawing out his knife with his left hand, in the faint hope of being able to strike it into his adversary's throat. but the struggle was too unequal to be successful, and the buffalo had shaken him off, and thrown him to the ground, previous to trampling him to death, when he heard the sharp crack of a rifle behind him, and in another instant the animal sprang into the air, then fell heavily close by, and indeed partly upon, the prostrate sullivan. a dark form in the indian garb glided by a moment after, and plunged his hunting-knife deep into the neck of the buffalo, though the shot was too true not to have taken effect, having penetrated to the brain; but the great arteries of the neck are cut, and the animal thus bled, to render the flesh more suitable for keeping a greater length of time. the indian then turned to sullivan, who had now drawn himself from under the buffalo, and who, with mingled feelings of hope and fear, caused by his ignorance whether the tribe to which the indian belonged was friendly or not, begged of him to direct him to the nearest white settlement. "if the weary hunter will rest till morning, the eagle will show him the way to the nest of his white dove," was the reply of the indian, in that figurative style so general among his people; and then taking him by the hand he led him through the rapidly increasing darkness, until they reached a small encampment lying near the river, and under the cover of some trees which grew upon its banks. here the indian gave sullivan a plentiful supply of hominy, or bruised indian corn boiled to a paste, and some venison; then spreading some skins of animals slain in the chase, for his bed, he signed to him to occupy it, and left him to his repose. the light of dawn had not yet appeared in the east when the indian awoke sullivan; and after a slight repast, they both started for the settlement of the whites. the indian kept in advance of his companion, and threaded his way through the still darkened forest with a precision and a rapidity which showed him to be well acquainted with its paths and secret recesses. as he took the most direct way, without fear of losing his course, being guided by signs unknown to any save some of the oldest and most experienced hunters, they traversed the forest far more quickly than sullivan had done, and before the golden sun had sunk behind the summits of the far-off mountains, sullivan once more stood within view of his beloved home. there it lay in calm repose, and at a sight so dear he could not restrain a cry of joy; then turning toward the indian, he poured forth his heartfelt thanks for the service he had rendered him. the warrior, who, till then, had not allowed his face to be seen by sullivan, except in the imperfect light of his wigwam, now fronted him, allowing the sun's rays to fall upon his person, and revealed to the astonished young man the features of the very same indian whom, five months before, he had so cruelly repulsed. an expression of dignified yet mild rebuke was exhibited in his face as he gazed upon the abashed sullivan; but his voice was gentle and low as he said: "five moons ago, when i was faint and weary, you called me 'indian dog,' and drove me from your door. i might last night have been revenged; but the white dove fed me, and for her sake i spared her mate. carcoochee bids you to go home, and when hereafter you see a red man in need of kindness, do to him as you have been done by. farewell." he waved his hand, and turned to depart, but sullivan sprang before him, and so earnestly entreated him to go with him, as a proof that he had indeed forgiven his brutal treatment, that he at last consented, and the humbled farmer led him to his cottage. there his gentle wife's surprise at seeing him so soon was only equaled by her thankfulness at his wonderful escape from the dangers which had surrounded him, and by her gratitude to the noble savage who had thus repaid her act of kindness, forgetful of the provocation he had received from her husband. carcoochee was treated not only as an honored guest, but as a brother; and such in time he became to them both. many were the visits he paid to the cottage of the once prejudiced and churlish sullivan, now no longer so, for the practical lesson of kindness he had learned from the untutored indian was not lost upon him. it was made the means of bringing him to a knowledge of his own sinfulness in the sight of god, and his deficiencies in duty toward his fellow men. he was led by the holy spirit to feel his need of christ's atoning blood; and ere many months passed, mary sullivan and her husband both gave satisfactory evidence that they had indeed "passed from death unto life." carcoochee's kindness was repaid to him indeed a hundred fold. a long time elapsed before any vital change of heart was visible in him; but at length it pleased the lord to bless the unwearied teaching of his white friends to his spiritual good, and to give an answer to the prayer of faith. the indian was the first native convert baptized by the american missionary, who came about two years after to a station some few miles distant from sullivan's cottage. after a lengthened course of instruction and trial the warrior, who once had wielded the tomahawk in mortal strife against both whites and redskins, went forth, armed with a far different weapon, "even the sword of the spirit, which is the word of god," to make known to his heathen countrymen "the glad tidings of great joy," that "christ jesus came into the world to save sinners." he told them that "whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life," whether they be jews or gentiles, bond or free, white or red, for "we are all one in christ." many years he thus labored, until, worn out with toil and age, he returned to his white friend's home, where in a few months he fell asleep in jesus, giving to his friends the certain hope of a joyful meeting hereafter at the resurrection of the just. many years have passed since then. there is no trace now of the cottage of the sullivans, who both rest in the same forest churchyard, where lie the bones of carcoochee; but their descendants still dwell in the same township. often does the gray-haired grandsire tell this little history to his rosy grandchildren, while seated under the stately magnolia which shades the graves of the quiet sleepers of whom he speaks. and the lesson which he teaches to his youthful hearers, is one which all would do well to bear in mind, and act upon; namely, "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." speak not harshly--learn to feel another's woes, another's weal; of malice, hate, and guile, instead, by friendship's holy bonds be led; for sorrow is man's heritage from early youth to hoary age. the record "the hours are viewless angels, that still go gliding by, and bear each moment's record up to him that sits on high." a mother wrote a story about her daughter in which she represented her as making some unkind and rude remarks to her sister. julia was a reader of the newspapers, and it did not escape her notice. the incident was a true one, but it was one she did not care to remember, much less did she like to see it in print. "oh! mother, mother," she exclaimed, "i do not think you are kind to write such stories about me. i do not like to have you publish it when i say anything wrong." "how do you know it is you? it is not your name." julia then read the story aloud. "it is i. i know it is i, mother. i shall be afraid of you if you write such stories about me, i shall not dare to speak before you." "remember, my child, that god requireth the past, and nothing which you say, or do, or think, is lost to him." poor julia was quite grieved that her mother should record the unpleasant and unsisterly words which fell from her lips. she did not like to have any memorial of her ill-nature preserved. perhaps she would never have thought of those words again in this life; but had she never read this passage of fearful import, the language of jesus christ: "but i say unto you that for every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment"? julia thought that the careless words which had passed her lips would be forgotten, but she should have known that every word and act of our lives is to be recorded and brought to our remembrance. i have known children to be very much interested, and to be influenced to make a great effort to do right, by an account-book which was kept by their mothers. when such a book is kept at school, and every act is recorded, the pupils are much more likely to make an effort to perform the duties required of them. so it is in sabbath-schools. i recently heard a sabbath-school superintendent remark that the school could not be well sustained unless accounts were kept of the attendance, etc., of the pupils. many years ago a man, brought before a tribunal, was told to relate his story freely without fear, as it should not be used against him. he commenced to do so, but had not proceeded far before he heard the scratching of a pen behind a curtain. in an instant he was on his guard, for by that sound he knew that, notwithstanding their promise, a record was being taken of what he said. silently and unseen by us the angel secretaries are taking a faithful record of our words and actions, and even of our thoughts. do we realize this? and a more solemn question is, what is the record they are making? not long ago i read of a strange list. it was an exact catalogue of the crimes committed by a man who was at last executed in norfolk island, with the various punishments he had received for his different offenses. it was written out in small hand by the chaplain, and was nearly three yards long. what a sickening catalogue to be crowded into one brief life. yet this man was once an innocent child. a mother no doubt bent lovingly over him, a father perhaps looked upon him in pride and joy, and imagination saw him rise to manhood honored and trusted by his fellow-men. but the boy chose the path of evil and wrong-doing regardless of the record he was making, and finally committed an act, the penalty for which was death, and he perished miserably upon the scaffold. dear readers, most of you are young, and your record is but just commenced. oh, be warned in time, and seek to have a list of which you will not be ashamed when scanned by jehovah, angels, and men. speak none but kind, loving words, have your thoughts and aspirations pure and noble, crowd into your life all the _good_ deeds you can, and thus crowd out _evil_ ones. we should not forget that an account-book is kept by god, in which all the events of our lives are recorded, and that even every thought will be brought before us at the day of judgment. in that day god will judge the secrets of men: he will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart. there is another book spoken of in the bible. the book of life, and it is said that no one can enter heaven whose name is not written in the lamb's book of life. angels are now weighing moral worth. the record will soon close, either by death or the decree, "he that is unjust, let him be unjust still, and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy let him be holy still." we have but one short, preparing hour in which to redeem the past and get ready for the future. our life record will soon be examined. what shall it be! mother. the silvery hairs are weaving a crown above her brow, but surely mother never seemed one-half so sweet as now! the love-light beams from out her eyes as clear, as sweet and true, as when, with youthful beauty crowned, life bloomed for her all new. no thought of self doth ever cast a cloudlet o'er the light that shines afar from out her soul, so steadfast, pure, and bright. her love illumes the darkest hour, smooths all the rugged way, makes lighter every burden, cheers through each weary day. more precious than the rarest gem in all the world could be; more sweet than honor, fame, and praise, is mother's love to me. the right decision. it was the beginning of vacation when mr. davis, a friend of my father, came to see us, and asked to let me go home with him. i was much pleased with the thought of going out of town. the journey was delightful, and when we reached mr. davis' house everything looked as if i were going to have a fine time. fred davis, a boy about my own age, took me cordially by the hand, and all the family soon seemed like old friends. "this is going to be a vacation worth having," i said to myself several times during the evening, as we all played games, told riddles, and laughed and chatted merrily as could be. at last mrs. davis said it was almost bedtime. then i expected family prayers, but we were very soon directed to our chambers. how strange it seemed to me, for i had never before been in a household without the family altar. "come," said fred, "mother says you and i are going to be bedfellows," and i followed him up two pair of stairs to a nice little chamber which he called his room; and he opened a drawer and showed me a box, and boat, and knives, and powder-horn, and all his treasures, and told me a world of new things about what the boys did there. he undressed first and jumped into bed. i was much longer about it, for a new set of thoughts began to rise in my mind. when my mother put my portmanteau into my hand, just before the coach started, she said tenderly, in a low tone, "remember, robert, that you are a christian boy." i knew very well what that meant, and i had now just come to a point of time when her words were to be minded. at home i was taught the duties of a christian child; abroad i must not neglect them, and one of these was evening prayer. from a very little boy i had been in the habit of kneeling and asking the forgiveness of god, for jesus' sake, acknowledging his mercies, and seeking his protection and blessing. "why don't you come to bed, robert?" cried fred. "what are you sitting there for?" i was afraid to pray, and afraid not to pray. it seemed that i could not kneel down and pray before fred. what would he say? would he not laugh? the fear of fred made me a coward. yet i could not lie down on a prayerless bed. if i needed the protection of my heavenly father at home, how much more abroad. i wished many wishes; that i had slept alone, that fred would go to sleep, or something else, i hardly knew what. but fred would not go to sleep. perhaps struggles like these take place in the bosom of every one when he leaves home and begins to act for himself, and on his decision may depend his character for time, and for eternity. with me the struggle was severe. at last, to fred's cry, "come, boy, come to bed," i mustered courage to say, "i will kneel down and pray first; that is always my custom." "pray?" said fred, turning himself over on his pillow, and saying no more. his propriety of conduct made me ashamed. here i had long been afraid of him, and yet when he knew my wishes he was quiet and left me to myself. how thankful i was that duty and conscience triumphed. that settled my future course. it gave me strength for time to come. i believe that the decision of the "christian boy," by god's blessing, made me the christian man; for in after years i was thrown amid trials and temptations which must have drawn me away from god and from virtue, had it not been for my settled habit of secret prayer. let every boy who has pious parents, read and think about this. you have been trained in christian duties and principles. when you go from home do not leave them behind you. carry them with you and stand by them, and then in weakness and temptation, by god's help, they will stand by you. take a manly stand on the side of your god and saviour, of your father's god. it is by abandoning their christian birthright that so many boys go astray, and grow up to be young men dishonoring parents, without hope and without god in the world. yes, we are boys, always playing with tongue or with pen, and i sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men? will we always be youthful, and laughing and gay, till the last dear companions drop smiling away? then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray, the stars of its winter, the dews of its may. and when we have done with our life-lasting toys, dear father, take care of thy children, the boys. --_oliver wendell holmes._ susie's prayer it was a half-holiday. the children were gathered on the green and a right merry time they were having. "come, girls and boys," called out ned graham, "let's play hunt the squirrel." all assented eagerly, and a large circle was formed with ned graham for leader, because he was the largest. "come, susie," said one of the boys, to a little girl who stood on one side, and seemed to shrink from joining them. "oh, never mind _her_!" said ned, with a little toss of his head, "she's nobody, anyhow. her father drinks." a quick flush crept over the child's pale face as she heard the cruel, thoughtless words. she was very sensitive, and the arrow had touched her heart in its tenderest place. her father _was_ a drunkard, she knew, but to be taunted with it before so many was more than she could bear; and with great sobs heaving from her bosom, and hot tears filling her eyes, she turned and ran away from the playground. her mother was sitting by the window when she reached home, and the tearful face of the little girl told that something had happened to disturb her. "what is the matter, susie?" she asked, kindly. "oh mother," susie said, with the tears dropping down her cheeks, as she hid her face in her mother's lap, "ned graham said such a cruel thing about me," and here the sobs choked her voice so that she could hardly speak; "he said that i wasn't anybody, and that father drinks." "my poor little girl," mrs. ellet said, very sadly. there were tears in her eyes, too. such taunts as this were nothing new. "oh, mother," susie said, as she lifted her face, wet with tears, from her mother's lap, "i can't bear to have them say so, and just as if _i_ had done something wicked. i wish father wouldn't drink! do you suppose he'll ever leave it off?" "i hope so," mrs. ellet answered, as she kissed susie's face where the tears clung like drops of dew on a rose. "i pray that he may break off the habit, and i can do nothing but pray, and leave the rest to god." that night mr. ellet came home to supper, as usual. he was a hard-working man, and a good neighbor. so everybody said, but he had the habit of intemperance so firmly fixed upon him that everybody thought he would end his days in the drunkard's grave. susie kissed him when he came through the gate, as she always did, but there was something in her face that went to his heart--a look so sad, and full of touching sorrow for one so young as she! "what ails my little girl?" he asked as he patted her curly head. "i can't tell you, father," she answered, slowly. "why?" he asked. "because it would make you feel bad." susie replied. "i guess not," he said, as they walked up to the door together. "what is it, susie?" "oh, father," and susie burst into tears again as the memory of ned graham's words came up freshly in her mind, "i wish you wouldn't drink any more, for the boys and girls don't like to play with me, 'cause you do." mr. ellet made no reply. but something stirred in his heart that made him ashamed of himself; ashamed that he was the cause of so much sorrow and misery. after supper he took his hat, and mrs. ellet knew only too well where he was going. at first he had resolved to stay at home that evening, but the force of habit was so strong that he could not resist, and he yielded, promising himself that he would not drink more than once or twice. susie had left the table before he had finished his supper, and as he passed the great clump of lilacs by the path, on his way to the gate, he heard her voice and stopped to listen to what she was saying. "oh, good jesus, please don't let father drink any more. make him just as he used to be when i was a baby, and then the boys and girls can't call me a drunkard's child, or say such bad things about me. please, dear jesus, for mother's sake and mine." susie's father listened to her simple prayer with a great lump swelling in his throat. and when it was ended he went up to her, and knelt down by her side, and put his arm around her, oh, so lovingly! "god in heaven," he said, very solemnly, "i promise to-night, never to touch another drop of liquor as long as i live. give me strength to keep my pledge, and help me to be a better man." "oh, father," susie cried, her arms about his neck, and her head upon his breast, "i'm _so_ glad! i shan't care about anything they say to me now, for i know you won't be a drunkard any more." "god helping me, i will be a _man_!" he answered, as, taking susie by the hand he went back into the house where his wife was sitting with the old patient look of sorrow on her face.--the look that had become so habitual. i cannot tell you of the joy and thanksgiving that went up from that hearthstone that night. i wish i could, but it was too deep a joy which filled the hearts of susie and her mother to be described. was not susie's prayer answered? there is never a day so dreary, but god can make it bright. and unto the soul that trusts him he giveth songs in the night. there is never a path so hidden, but god will show the way, if we seek the spirit's guidance, and patiently watch and pray. company manners. "well," said bessie, very emphatically, "i think russell morton is the best boy there is, anyhow." "why so, pet?" i asked, settling myself in the midst of the busy group gathered around in the firelight. "i can tell," interrupted wilfred, "bessie likes russ because he is so polite." "i don't care, you may laugh," said frank little bess; "that _is_ the reason--at least, one of them. he's nice; he don't stamp and hoot in the house--and he never says, 'halloo bess,' or laughs when i fall on the ice." "bessie wants company manners all the time," said wilfred. and bell added: "we should all act grown up, if she had her fastidiousness suited." bell, be it said in passing, is very fond of long words, and has asked for a dictionary for her next birthday present. dauntless bessie made haste to retort, "well, if growing up would make some folks more agreeable, it's a pity we can't hurry about it." "wilfred, what are company manners?" interposed i from the depths of my easy chair. "why--why--they're--it's _behaving_, you know, when folks are here, or we go a visiting." "company manners are good manners," said horace, "oh yes," answered i, meditating on it. "i see; manners that are _too_ good--for mamma--but just right for mrs. jones." "that's it," cried bess. "but let us talk it over a bit. seriously, why should you be more polite to mrs. jones than to mamma? you don't love her better?" "oh my! no indeed," chorused the voices. "well, then, i don't see why mrs. jones should have all that's agreeable; why the hats should come off, and the tones soften, and 'please,' and 'thank you,' and 'excuse me,' should abound in her house, and not in mamma's." "oh! that's very different." "and mamma knows we mean all right. besides, you are not fair, cousin; we were talking about boys and girls--not grown up people." thus my little audience assailed me, and i was forced to a change of base. "well, about boys and girls, then. can not a boy be just as happy, if, like our friend russell, he is gentle to the little girls, doesn't pitch his little brother in the snow, and respects the rights of his cousins and intimate friends? it seems to me that politeness is just as suitable to the playground as to the parlor." "oh, of course; if you'd have a fellow give up all fun," said wilfred. "my dear boy," said i, "that isn't what i want. run, and jump, and shout as much as you please; skate, and slide, and snowball; but do it with politeness to other boys and girls, and i'll agree you will find just as much fun in it. you sometimes say i pet burke holland more than any of my child-friends. can i help it? for though he is lively and sometimes frolicsome, his manners are always good. you never see him with his chair tipped up, or his hat on in the house. he never pushes ahead of you to get first out of the room. if you are going out, he holds open the door; if weary, it is burke who brings a glass of water, places a chair, hands a fan, springs to pick up your handkerchief--and all this without being told to do so, or interfering with his own gaiety in the least. "this attention isn't only given to me as the guest, or to mrs. jones when he visits her, but to mamma, aunt jennie, and little sister, just as carefully; at home, in school, or at play, there is always just as much guard against rudeness. his courtesy is not merely for state occasions, but a well-fitting garment worn constantly. his manliness is genuine loving-kindness. in fact, that is exactly what real politeness is; carefulness for others, and watchfulness over ourselves, lest our angles shall interfere with their comfort." it is impossible for boys and girls to realize, until they have grown too old to easily adopt new ones, how important it is to guard against contracting carelessness and awkward habits of speech and manners. some very unwisely think it is not necessary to be so very particular about these things except when company is present. but this is a grave mistake, for coarseness will betray itself in spite of the most watchful sentinelship. it is impossible to indulge in one form of speech, or have one set of manners at home, and another abroad, because in moments of confusion or bashfulness, such as every young person feels sometimes who is sensitive and modest, the habitual mode of expression will discover itself. it is not, however, merely because refinement of speech and grace of manners are pleasing to the sense, that our young friends are recommended to cultivate and practice them, but because outward refinement of any sort reacts as it were on the character and makes it more sweet and gentle and lovable, and these are qualities that attract and draw about the possessor a host of kind friends. then again they increase self-respect. the very consciousness that one prepossesses and pleases people, makes most persons feel more respect for themselves, just as the knowledge of being well dressed makes them feel more respectable. you can see by this simple example, how every effort persons make toward perfecting themselves brings some pleasant reward. believe and trust. believe and trust. through stars and suns, through life and death, through soul and sense, his wise, paternal purpose runs; the darkness of his providence is star-lit with benign intents. o joy supreme! i know the voice, like none beside on earth and sea; yea, more, o soul of mine, rejoice! by all that he requires of me i know what god himself must be. --_whittier_. the belle of the ballroom. "only this once," said edward allston, fixing a pair of loving eyes on the beautiful girl beside him--"only this once, sister mine. your dress will be my gift, and will not, therefore, diminish your charity fund; and besides, if the influences of which you have spoken, do, indeed, hang so alluringly about a ballroom, should you not seek to guard me from their power? you will go, will you not? for me--for me?" the saviour, too, whispered to the maiden, "decide for me--for me." but her spirit did not recognize the tones, for of late it had been bewildered with earthly music. she paused, however, and her brother waited her reply in silence. beware! helen allston, beware! the sin is not lessened that the tempter is so near to thee. like the sparkle of the red wine to the inebriate are the seductive influences of the ballroom. thy foot will fall upon roses, but they will be roses of this world, not those that bloom for eternity. thou wilt lose the fervor and purity of thy love, the promptness of thy obedience, the consolation of thy trust. the holy calm of thy closet will become irksome to thee, and thy power of resistance will be diminished many fold, for this is the first great temptation. but helen will not beware. she forgets her saviour. the melody of that rich voice is dearer to her than the pleadings of gospel memories. two years previous to the scene just described, helen allston hoped she had been converted. for a time she was exact in the discharge of her social duties, regular in her closet exercises, ardent, yet equable, in her love. conscious of her weakness, she diligently used all those aids, so fitted to sustain and cheer. day by day, she rekindled her torch at the holy fire which comes streaming on to us from the luminaries of the past--from baxter, taylor, and flavel, and many a compeer whose names live in our hearts, and linger on our lips. she was alive to the present also. upon her table a beautiful commentary, upon the yet unfulfilled prophecies, lay, the records of missionary labor and success. the sewing circle busied her active fingers, and the sabbath-school kept her affections warm, and rendered her knowledge practical and thorough. but at length the things of the world began insensibly to win upon her regard. she was the child of wealth, and fashion spoke of her taste and elegance. she was very lovely, and the voice of flattery mingled with the accents of honest praise. she was agreeable in manners, sprightly in conversation, and was courted and caressed. she heard with more complacency, reports from the gay circles she had once frequented, and noted with more interest the ever-shifting pageantry of folly. then she lessened her charities, furnished her wardrobe more lavishly, and was less scrupulous in the disposal of her time. she formed acquaintances among the light and frivolous, and to fit herself for intercourse with them, read the books they read, until others became insipid. edward allston was proud of his sister, and loved her, too, almost to idolatry. they had scarcely been separated from childhood, and it was a severe blow to him when she shunned the amusements they had so long shared together. he admired indeed the excellency of her second life, the beauty of her aspirations, the loftiness of her aims, but he felt deeply the want of that unity in hope and purpose which had existed between them. he felt, at times, indignant, as if something had been taken from himself. therefore, he strove by many a device to lure her into the path he was treading. he was very selfish in this, but he was unconscious of it. he would have climbed precipices, traversed continents, braved the ocean in its wrath, to have rescued her from physical danger, but, like many others, thoughtless as himself, he did not dream of the fearful importance of the result; did not know that the infinite alone could compute the hazard of the tempted one. thus far had he succeeded, that she had consented to attend with him a brilliant ball. "it will be a superb affair," he said, half aloud, as he walked down the street. "the music will be divine, too. and she used to be so fond of dancing! 't was a lovely girl spoiled, when the black-coated gentry preached her into their notions. and yet--and yet--pshaw!--all cant!--all cant! what harm can there be in it? and if she does withstand all this, i will yield the point that there is something--yes, a great deal in her religion." so musing, he proceeded to the shop of mrs. crofton, the most fashionable dressmaker in the place, and forgot his momentary scruples in the consultation as to the proper materials for helen's dress, which was to be a present from him, and which he determined should be worthy her grace and beauty. the ball was over, and helen stood in her festal costume, before the ample mirror in her chamber, holding in one hand a white kid glove she had just withdrawn. she had indeed been the belle of the ballroom. simplicity of life, and a joyous spirit, are the wonder-workers, and she was irresistibly bright and fresh among the faded and hackneyed of heated assembly rooms. the most delicate and intoxicating flattery had been offered her, and wherever she turned, she met the glances of admiration. her brother, too, had been proudly assiduous, had followed her with his eyes so perpetually as to seem scarcely conscious of the presence of another; and there she stood, minute after minute, lost in the recollections of her evening triumph. almost queenlike looked she, the rich folds of her satin robe giving fullness to her slender form, and glittering as if woven with silver threads. a chain of pearls lay on her neck, and gleamed amid the shading curls, which floated from beneath a chaplet of white roses. she looked up at length, smiled at her lovely reflection in the mirror, and then wrapping herself in her dressing-gown, took up a volume of sacred poems. but when she attempted to read, her mind wandered to the dazzling scene she had just quitted. she knelt to pray, but the brilliant vision haunted her still, and ever as the wind stirred the vines about the window, there came back that alluring music. she rose with a pang of self-reproach. instead of the confidence, the consciousness of protection, the holy serenity with which she usually sought her pillow, she experienced an excitement and restlessness which nothing could allay. she attempted to meditate, but with every thought of duty came memories of the festal garlands, and the blazing lamps, and the flitting figures of the merry dancers. an open bible lay on the window-seat and as she passed it she read: "another parable put he forth unto them, saying: the kingdom of heaven is likened to a man which sowed good seed in his field. but while he slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way." tears sprang to her eyes, and she exclaimed, "in the field of my heart also hath the enemy sown tares." she took up the book, and read again; then too soulful to remain quiet, she rapidly paced the chamber. resolutely and carefully she reviewed the past, back to her first faint trembling hope. rigorously, as in the presence of her maker, she scanned her first departure from the narrow path; and if her earlier convictions were pungent, tenfold more intense was the agony of this her second awakening. in the solitude of his chamber, edward thought with less elation of his successful plan. he believed that helen would have yielded to no ordinary temptation, and felt that he had been scarcely generous to enlist her affections against her principles. his repeated, "it is but a trifle," did not satisfy him; and when he had listened hour after hour to her footfall, he could no longer restrain his inclination to soothe her emotion. in vain he assayed all the arguments, all the sophistry, which the world employs to attract the lukewarm professor. [illustration: while he slept his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat.] "do not seek to console me," said helen, "for such tears are salutary, my dear brother. i have virtually said that the joys of religion are fading and unsatisfactory; i must sometimes seek for others. i have quieted more than one uneasy conscience, by throwing the influence of a professing christian into the scale of the world. i have wandered from my father's side to the society of his rebel subjects. and yet i have cause to mourn less for this one transgression, than for the alienation of heart, which led the way to it. had i not fallen far, very far, from the strength and purity of my earlier love, even your pleadings could not have moved me." "but the bible says nothing about such amusements, helen." "not in words, perhaps, but in effect. put the case to your own heart, edward. would you have me choose for my companions those who treat you with neglect? would you wish me to frequent places, whence i should return, careless and cold in my manner toward you? ah, brother! i loved god once. i saw his hand in everything around me. i felt his presence perpetually, and trusted, childlike, to his protecting arm. but now i regard him less, pray less, read less, and give less." and then she revealed to her brother her beautiful experience--beautiful till she grew negligent and formal--with a truth, an earnestness, a loving simplicity, that for the first time gave him some insight into the nature of true piety. "and now, dear edward," she said, "read to me christ's prayer to the people, that i may feel sure that they prayed for me." as she listened, the varying expressions of countenance indicated many and varied emotions. submission, sorrow, love, and faith--all were there. when edward had finished they knelt together, and helen sorrowfully, yet hopefully, poured out her full soul in confession, and most touchingly she besought the divine compassion upon her erring brother. the carol of the birds went up with the whispered amen of the penitent, the blossoms of the climbing honeysuckle sent in her fragrance, and the morning sun smiled on them as they rose from prayer. the face of helen reflected her inward gladness, and restored peace shone in her dark eyes and tranquil countenance. "thou art happier than i," said edward, as he turned from the chamber. the shadow of the cross. "aye, and the race is just begun, the world is all before me now, the sun is in the eastern sky, and long the shadows westward lie; in everything that meets my eye a splendor and a joy i mind a glory that is undesigned." ah! youth, attempt that path with care, the shadow of the cross is there. "i've time," he said, "to rest awhile, and sip the fragrant wine of life, my lute to pleasure's halls i'll bring and while the sun ascends i'll sing, and all my world without shall ring like merry chiming bells that peal not half the rapture that they feel." alas! he found but tangled moss, above the shadow of the cross. christ our refuge there were six cities in the land of canaan which were set apart as places of refuge, to which a man might flee if he had, either by accident or design, killed another. these cities were easy of access. three were on the west side of the river jordan, and three on the east side. every year the roads leading to them were examined, to see that they were in good condition, and that there was nothing in the way to stop the manslayer as he was running from his pursuer. at different points there were the guide-boards, and on them were written, refuge! refuge! if any man by accident killed another, and reached one of these cities before his pursuer, he was allowed to stay there until the death of the high-priest who was then living. but if in anger a man had purposely killed another, then, although he sought refuge in one of these cities, he was given up to the avenger of blood to be slain. you will find more about these cities and their names if you will read the thirty-fifth chapter of numbers, the nineteenth chapter of deuteronomy, and the twentieth chapter of joshua. but what interest can boys and girls and all older persons have in these cities? i will try to tell you. god has different ways of teaching. a great many things about which we read in the old testament are what is called types. a type, in scripture language, means a pattern or a likeness to a person who is to come, or to an event which is to take place. it is supposed to point forward to something more valuable than itself. thus, for example, the blood of the lamb which was slain on the jewish altar was a type, or a foreshowing, of the crucifixion of jesus christ for our salvation. hence john the baptist pointing to the saviour, said to his disciples, "behold the lamb of god, which taketh away the sin of the world." john : . the paschal lamb, which was slain to commemorate the deliverance of the jews from the bondage of egypt, and the lamb which was offered daily, both morning and evening, in the service of the temple, were representations of the greater sacrifice which christ came from heaven to make for our salvation. so the land of canaan was a type of heaven. the lifting up of the brazen serpent on a pole was a type of our saviour's crucifixion; and the cities of refuge were a beautiful type of jesus christ, who is the sinner's refuge. you know, my dear children, that we have all sinned, and that we all need a place of safety. the avenger says, "thou shalt surely die." escape for thy life. but that we may not die eternally, god has given us the bible as our guide-board; and the bible is constantly pointing to jesus christ as the sinner's refuge. he is our hiding-place. it is to him isaiah refers when he says, "and a man shall be as a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." the way to our city of refuge is plain. "i am the way," is the saviour's own direction. the gate is always open, and the assurance is, "him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out." i want you to remember, dear children, that it is a great deal easier to run to this city of refuge when you are young, than it will be if you put it off until you are older. the promise of the saviour is, "those that seek me early shall find me." will you not seek him when he may be found? how sad it will be if you neglect to do so. you will need a refuge when the tempest of god's judgments shall burst upon the wicked. oh, then how glad you will be if you can say, as david said of his trust in god, "thou art my hiding-place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance." the master's hand. "in the still air the music lies unheard; in the rough marble beauty hides unseen; to make the music and the beauty needs a master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen. great master, touch us with thy skilled hand: let not the music that is in us die! great sculptor, hew and polish us, nor let hidden and lost, thy form within us lie! spare not the stroke! do with us as thou wilt! let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred; complete thy purpose, that we may become thy perfect image, thou our god and lord!" tom's trial. it was a pleasant day in that particularly pleasant part of the summer time, which the boys call "vacation," when tiger and tom walked slowly down the street together. you may think it strange that i mention tiger first, but i assure you tom would not have been in the least offended by the preference. indeed, he would have assured you that tiger was a most wonderful dog, and knew as much as any two boys, though this might be called extravagant. nearly a year ago, on tom's birthday, tiger arrived as a present from tom's uncle, and as he leaped with a dignified bound from the wagon in which he made his journey, tom looked for a moment into his great, wise eyes, and impulsively threw his arms around his shaggy neck. tiger, on his part, was pleased with tom's bright face, and most affectionately licked his smooth cheeks. so the league of friendship was complete in an hour. tom had a pleasant, round face, and you might live with him a week, and think him one of the noblest, most generous boys you ever knew. but some day you would probably discover that he had a most violent temper. you would be frightened to see his face crimson with rage, as he stamped his feet, shook his little sister, spoke improperly to his mother, and above all, displeased his great father in heaven. now i am going to tell you of one great trial on this account, which tom never forgot to the end of his life. tiger and tom were walking down the street together, when they met dick casey, a school-fellow of tom's. "o dick!" cried tom, "i'm going to father's grain store a little while. let's go up in the loft and play." dick had just finished his work in his mother's garden, and was all ready for a little amusement. so the two went up together, and enjoyed themselves highly for a long time. but at last arose one of those trifling disputes, in which little boys are so apt to indulge. pretty soon there were angry words, then (oh, how sorry i am to say it!), tom's wicked passions got the mastery of him, and he beat little dick severely. tiger, who must have been ashamed of his master, pulled hard at his coat, and whined piteously, but all in vain. at last tom stopped, from mere exhaustion. "there, now!" he cried, "which is right, you or i?" "i am," sobbed dick, "and you tell a lie." tom's face flushed crimson, and darting upon dick, he gave him a sudden push. alas! he was near to the open door. dick screamed, threw up his arms, and in a moment was gone. tom's heart stood still, and an icy chill crept over him from head to foot. at first he could not stir; then--he never knew how he got there, but he found himself standing beside his little friend. some men were raising him carefully from the hard sidewalk. "is he dead?" almost screamed tom. "no," replied one, "we hope not. how did he fall out?" "he didn't fall," groaned tom, who never could be so mean as to tell a lie, "i pushed him out." "_you_ pushed him, you wicked boy," cried a rough voice. "do you know you ought to be sent to jail, and if he dies, maybe you'll be hung." tom grew as white as dick, whom he had followed into the store, and he heard all that passed as if in a dream. "is he badly hurt?" cried some one. "only his hands," was the answer. "the rope saved him, he caught hold of the rope and slipped down; but his hands are dreadfully torn--he has fainted from pain." just then tom's father came in, and soon understood the case. the look he gave at his unhappy son, so full of sorrow, not unmingled with pity, was too much for tom, and he stole out, followed by the faithful tiger. he wandered to the woods, and threw himself upon the ground. one hour ago he was a happy boy, and now what a terrible change! what has made the difference? nothing but the indulgence of this wicked, violent temper. his mother had often warned him of the fearful consequences. she had told him that little boys who would not learn to govern themselves, grew up to be very wicked men, and often became murderers in some moment of passion. and now, tom shuddered to think he was almost a murderer! nothing but god's great mercy in putting that rope in dick's way, had saved him from carrying that load of sorrow and guilt all the rest of his life. but poor dick, he might die yet--how pale he looked--how strange! tom fell upon his knees, and prayed god to "spare dick's life," and from that time forth, with god's help, he promised that he would strive to conquer this wicked passion. then, as he could no longer bear his terrible suspense, he started for widow casey's cottage. as he appeared at the humble door, mrs. casey angrily ordered him away, saying: "you have made a poor woman trouble enough for one day." but dick's feeble voice entreated, "o mother, let him come in; i was just as bad as he." tom gave a cry of joy at hearing these welcome tones, and sprang hastily in. there sat poor dick with his hands bound up, looking very pale, but tom thanked god that he was alive. "i should like to know how i am to live now," sighed mrs. casey. "who will weed the garden, and carry my vegetables to market? i am afraid we shall suffer for bread before the summer is over," and she put her apron to her eyes. "mrs. casey," cried tom, eagerly, "i will do everything that dick did. i will sell the potatoes and beans, and will drive mr. brown's cows to pasture." mrs. casey shook her head incredulously, but tom bravely kept his word. for the next few weeks tom was at his post bright and early, and the garden was never kept in better order. and every morning tiger and tom stood faithfully in the market-place with their baskets, and never gave up, no matter how warm the day, till the last vegetable was sold, and the money placed faithfully in mrs. casey's hand. tom's father often passed through the market, and gave his little son an encouraging smile, but he did not offer to help him out of his difficulty, for he knew if tom struggled on alone, it would be a lesson he would never forget. already he was becoming so gentle and patient, that every one noticed the change, and his mother rejoiced over the sweet fruits of his repentance and self-sacrifice. after a few weeks the bandages were removed from dick's hands, but they had been unskilfully treated, and were drawn up in very strange shapes. mrs. casey could not conceal her grief. "he will never be the help he was before," she said to tom, "he will never be like other boys, and he wrote such a fine hand, now he can no more make a letter than that little chicken in the garden." "if we only had a great city doctor," said a neighbor, "he might have been all right. even now his fingers might be helped if you should take him to new york." "oh, i am too poor, _too poor_," said she, and burst into tears. tom could not bear it, and again rushed into the woods to think what could be done, for he had already given them all his quarter's allowance. all at once a thought flashed into his head, and he started as if he had been shot. then he cried in great distress:-- "no, no, anything but that, i can't do _that_!" tiger gently licked his hands, and watched him with great concern. now came a great struggle. tom stroked him backward and forward, and although he was a proud boy, he sobbed aloud. tiger whined, licked his face, rushed off into dark corners, and barked savagely at some imaginary enemy, and then came back, and putting his paws on tom's knees, wagged his tail in anxious sympathy. at last tom took his hands from his pale, tear-stained face, and looking into the dog's great honest eyes, he cried with a queer shake of his voice:-- "tiger, old fellow! dear old dog, could you ever forgive me if i sold you?" then came another burst of sorrow, and tom rose hastily, as if afraid to trust himself, and almost ran out of the woods. over the fields he raced, with tiger close at his heels, nor rested a moment till he stood at major white's door, nearly two miles away. "do you still want tiger, sir?" "why yes," said the old man in great surprise, "but do _you_ want to sell him?" "yes, please," gasped tom, not daring to look at his old companion. the exchange was quickly made, and the ten dollars in tom's hand. tiger was beguiled into a barn, and the door hastily shut, and tom was hurrying off, when he turned and cried in a choking voice-- "you will be kind to him, major white, won't you? don't whip him, i never did, and he's the best dog--" "no, no, child," said major white, kindly; "i'll treat him like a prince, and if you ever want to buy him back, you shall have him." tom managed to falter, "thank you," and almost flew out of hearing of tiger's eager scratching on the barn door. i am making my story too long, and can only tell you in a few words that tom's sacrifice was accepted. a friend took little dick to the city free of expense, and tom's money paid for the necessary operation. the poor crooked fingers were very much improved, and were soon almost as good as ever. and the whole village loved tom for his brave, self-sacrificing spirit, and the noble atonement he had made for his moment of passion. a few days after dick's return came tom's birthday, but he did not feel in his usual spirits. in spite of his great delight in dick's recovery, he had so mourned over the matter, and had taken tiger's loss so much to heart, that he had grown quite pale and thin. so, as he was permitted to spend the day as he pleased, he took his books and went to his favorite haunt in the woods. "how different from my last birthday," thought tom. "then tiger had just come, and i was so happy, though i didn't like him half so well as i do now." tom sighed heavily; then added more cheerfully, "well, i hope some things are better than they were last year. i hope i have begun to conquer myself, and with god's help i will never give up trying while i live. now if i could only earn money enough to buy back dear old tiger." while tom was busied with these thoughts he heard a hasty, familiar trot, a quick bark of joy, and the brave old dog sprang into tom's arms. "tiger, old fellow," cried tom, trying to look fierce, though he could scarcely keep down the tears, "how came you to run away, sir?" tiger responded by picking up a letter he had dropped in his first joy, and laying it in tom's hand:-- "my dear child: tiger is pining, and i must give him a change of air. i wish him to have a good master, and knowing that the best ones are those who have learned to govern _themselves_, i send him to you. will you take care of him and greatly oblige "your old friend, major white." tom then read through a mist of tears-- "p. s. i know the whole story. dear young friend, 'be not weary in well-doing.'" what counts. did you tackle the trouble that came your way, with a resolute heart and cheerful, or hide your face from the light of day with a craven face and fearful. o, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce. a trouble is what you make it. it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, but only, how did you take it? you are beaten to the earth? well, what of that? come up with a smiling face. it's nothing against you to fall down _flat_; but to lie there--that's disgrace. the harder you're thrown, the higher you'll bounce, be proud of your blackened eye. it isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, but, how did you fight, and why? and though you be down to death, what then? if you battled the best that you could, if you played your part in the world of men, the _critic_ will call it good. death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, and whether he's slow or spry, it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, but only how did you die? --_cooke_. the premium. "i think i am sure of one premium at least," said edward, as he placed himself upon the form among his school-fellows. it was examination day, and many a young heart was beating quick with the hope of approbation and reward, or with the fear of disgrace. some had looked forward to this day, and applied to their tasks, knowing how carefully they should be examined, and commended or punished according to their deservings. others had chosen to forget that such a day must come, and idled away the time which they would now have given a great deal to have at their disposal again. in the center of the schoolroom was placed a long table, covered with books of various sizes and of different value. there were bibles and testaments, both large and small, the histories of rome, of greece, and of england. there were volumes elegantly bound and pamphlets just stitched together. the school was extensive, and it was wished that every one who had exerted himself to the best of his ability, however little that might be, should carry home with him some mark of encouragement, to remind him that diligence and perseverance were not overlooked. like the servants to whom the lord entrusted the talents, some had five, and some had but one, yet these last could not be excused for hiding and neglecting it because it was small; even the youngest and the simplest child at school may make something of the reason and opportunities which the lord has given him to improve. with anxious hearts and busy faces the boys arranged themselves around the table; and were examined with great care and patience by their teachers, as to the progress they had made in their studies. now, edward had set his heart on one particular premium, the roman history, neatly bound, and making two very pretty volumes, which he thought would handsomely fill up a vacant space on his little book-shelves. he allowed himself to think of this until no other prize was of any value in his sight, a great fault, often committed by children, and grown people, too; who instead of thankfully receiving whatever the bounty of providence assigns them, would choose for themselves; and become discontented and unhappy in the midst of blessings, because the wisdom of god sees fit to withhold some one thing that their folly deems necessary to their happiness. edward passed his examination with much credit, and one of the first premiums was adjudged to him; but instead of the roman history, a very neat bible, in excellent large type, was placed in his hands. many of his schoolmates had wished for that bible, but edward regarded it not; and the eyes of the foolish boy filled with tears, as he saw the elegant history of rome presented to another, who, perhaps, would gladly have exchanged with him. the next day edward returned home and related his disappointment to his parents, who thought his desire for the roman history a mark of great learning and taste; but since he had distinguished himself so well they did not much care what prize he received. edward's father lived in the country, not far from the seaside, in a most delightful and healthy situation; and at this time his mother's brother, who was in a very sickly state, had just arrived there to enjoy the benefit of the sea-breezes, and rest a little from the toil and bustle of his employments in london. mr. lewis was a young man of the most pleasing manners and appearance. he was very gentle and serious, but not at all gloomy or severe. his bad health only served to show forth his patience in enduring it without a murmuring word or discontented look; and edward, who was really a kind-hearted and affectionate boy, soon became very much attached to his uncle, who had not seen him since he was an infant, and who was much pleased at the attentions his nephew delighted to pay him. young hearts are soon won; and it was only three days after edward's return from school, that he went bounding over the grounds in search of his uncle, whose society he already preferred to his hoop and ball. mr. lewis was seated under a fine old oak-tree, the high and knotted roots of which served as a seat; while the soft moss, interspersed with many delicate little flowers, was like a carpet beneath his feet. a rich and extensive tract of country lay spread before his eyes; and, at a distance the mighty ocean bounded the prospect, whose deep green waters were seen in beautiful contrast with the pale yellow cliff, that with a graceful, yet abrupt curve, interrupted the view to the right. thin clouds were floating past the sun every now and then, and threw all the varieties of light and shade upon the lovely scene below. mr. lewis had a book in his hand, into which he frequently looked, and then raised his eyes again to gaze upon the varieties that surrounded him; and so intent he seemed, that edward doubted whether he ought to disturb him, until his uncle, seeing him at some little distance, kindly beckoned him to come near. "is not this a pretty place, uncle?" said edward, as he seated himself beside him; "and do you not find the breeze from the water very refreshing?" "it is beautiful indeed, my dear boy; and i am deriving both refreshment and instruction while i look around me." "is that a bible, uncle?" "yes. it is god's word, which i always find the best commentary upon his works; they explain each other." "i love the bible too, uncle," said edward, "and i got much credit for my answering on scripture questions last half-year." "and which, edward, afforded you the greater satisfaction, the scriptures, or the credit you got for studying them?" edward looked a little embarrassed and did not immediately reply. "it is quite right to take pleasure in the well-earned approbation of your teachers," continued mr. lewis, "and i was glad to hear that you obtained a premium at the last examination also." "yes, uncle, but not the prize i wished for. there was a roman history that i should have liked better, and it was just of equal value with the bible that i got." "how of equal value, edward?" "i mean that it was not reckoned a higher prize, and it would have been a nicer book for me." "then you had a bible already?" "why, no, uncle, not of my own, but it is easy to borrow one on the sabbath; and i had gone through all my scripture proofs, and do not want it on other days." "read these four verses for me," said mr. lewis, pointing to the sixth chapter of deuteronomy "commencing with the sixth verse." edward read: "and these words which i command thee this day, shall be in thine heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up; and thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes, and thou shalt write them upon the posts of thine house, and on thy gates." "to whom was this command given, edward?" "to the jews, uncle." "yes; and the word of god, which cannot pass away, is as much binding on us as on them, in everything excepting the sacrifices and ceremonies, which foreshowed the coming of the lord jesus christ, and which were done away with, by his death's fulfilling all those types and shadows." "then," said edward, "we are commanded to write the bible on our hands and on our door-posts." "no, my dear boy, not literally, but in a figure of speech; as the lord, when declaring he never will forget zion, says, 'i have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.' the meaning of the passage you first read is that we must have the word of god as continually present to our minds as anything written on our hands, and on every object around us, would be to our bodily sight. and how are we to get our thoughts so occupied by it, edward?" "by continually reading it, i suppose," replied edward, rather sullenly. "by reading it often, and meditating on it much," said his uncle; "and that we can do without interfering with our other business. without prayer you cannot obtain any spiritual blessing, nor maintain any communion with god; and without reading the scriptures you will have but little desire to pray. we are like people wandering in the dark, while the bible is as a bright lamp held out to direct us in the only safe path. you cannot be a child of god if you do not his will; you cannot do it unless you know it, and it is by the bible he is pleased to communicate that knowledge. do you begin to see, edward, that the bible is more suitable to be an every-day book than your profane history?" "why, yes, uncle; but the bible is a grave book, and if i read it so constantly i never should be merry." "there is no merriment among the lost, edward; and that dreadful lot will be your portion if you neglect the great salvation which the scriptures set forth. besides, there is no foundation for what you suppose to be the effect of reading the bible. i have known people naturally melancholy and discontented, to become cheerful and happy by studying it; but i never in my life saw an instance of a person's becoming unhappy because he had a good hope of going to heaven." edward paused a moment, and then said, "uncle, i remember it is written concerning wisdom, that 'her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.'" "most true, my dear boy, 'quietness and assurance forever' is the portion of god's people. 'rejoice in the lord always, and again i say, rejoice.' 'the ransomed of the lord shall return, and come to zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness; and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.' are such expressions as these likely to make us gloomy, edward?" "o, no, uncle; and i often wonder that you, who suffer so much pain, and read the bible constantly, are not melancholy." "how can i be melancholy, edward, when the bible tells me that all these things are working together for my spiritual good? that he who spared not his own son, but delivered him up for us all, will with him also freely give us all things? when i think of what my sins deserve, and see the lamb of god bearing the chastisement that should fall on me, how can i be melancholy? when i feel that the spirit of god is bringing these things to my remembrance, and enabling me to love the lord jesus, who has done so much for me, must i not rejoice? i know that in me, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing; and since god has promised forgiveness to all who seek that blessing through his son; and since i feel assured that i have sought that blessing, and feel peace and joy in believing, surely the song of praise, not the moan of lamentation, becomes me. yet i do lament, edward, daily lament, my many offenses against god; but i am assured that christ's blood cleanseth from all sin, and that in him i have a powerful and all-prevailing advocate with the father. i know in whom i have believed, and that he will never cast off nor forsake me. i am sinking into the grave, but i do not shrink from that prospect, because the bitterness of death is taken away by my saviour, who died for my sins, and rose again for my justification; and though this body returns to dust, i shall live again, and enter into the presence of my redeemer, and rejoice there evermore." edward looked at the animated countenance of his uncle, and then cast down his eyes; they were full of tears. at last he said, "uncle, indeed i am a very sinful boy, neglecting the bible, because i know it would show me my sin, and the consequences of it. but i will trifle no more with god's displeasure. i will get that precious bible, worth a thousand roman histories, and i will read it daily, with prayer, that i may be wise unto salvation." mr. lewis did not live long after this. he died, rejoicing in hope of eternal life; and as often as edward was permitted to return home from his school, he was to be seen under the old oak, with the bible in his hand, from which he learned more and more the will of his god and saviour--the utter sinfulness of his own nature--his inability to help himself; and from this holy word he learned to place all his dependence on the righteousness of his saviour--to follow the example of his saviour, in prayer, in resignation, and in doing good to the poor around him. he often thought of his dear uncle, and counted that day happy when he sat to listen to his kind advice, which, as a means, brought him to a knowledge of himself and of his heavenly father. our neighbors. "somebody near you is struggling alone over life's desert sand; faith, hope, and courage together are gone; reach him a helping hand; turn on his darkness a beam of your light; kindle, to guide him, a beacon fire bright; cheer his discouragement, soothe his affright, lovingly help him to stand. somebody near you is hungry and cold; send him some aid to-day; somebody near you is feeble and old, left without human stay. under his burdens put hands kind and strong; speak to him tenderly, sing him a song; haste to do something to help him along over his weary way. dear one, be busy, for time fleeth fast, soon it will all be gone; soon will our season of service be past, soon will our day be done. somebody near you needs now a kind word; some one needs help, such as you can afford; haste to assist in the name of the lord; there may be a soul to be won." a kind word. within each soul the god above plants the rich jewel,--human love. the fairest gem that graces youth is love's companion,--fearless truth. william and henry were clerks in a large wholesale establishment. they met one morning on their way to the store and proceeded together. after talking awhile on various subjects, the following dialogue took place:-- "by the way, william," said henry, "i understand you were last evening at ----'s," naming a fashionable billiard saloon. "a mistake, henry. i was never in a billiard saloon." "well, i thought it very strange when i heard it." "why so?" "why?" said henry in astonishment. "why, because you are a religious young man and a church member." "do you ever visit such places, henry?" "oh, yes; but that is quite a different matter. i don't profess to be a christian, you know." "you would think it wrong for me to be there?" "of course i should." "and right for you?" "well, yes; there's no harm in my being there." "_why_ not?" "why, because--because i do not profess to be bound by the same obligations that you are." "and who has released you from those same obligations and imposed them upon me?" "oh, well, now, there's no use in talking, william; you know that christians do not and ought not to engage in what they consider pernicious amusements." "i certainly do know that they ought not; but i wish to know why it is wrong for them and right for others." "you know the fact that it is so." "no, i do not know that it is; and i wish to call your attention to the truth that the obligation to refrain from evil rests upon every rational human being in a christian land, for god has commanded _all_ men to love and obey him; also, to the fact that the difference between the christian and the sinner is that one acknowledges the obligation, while the other denies it; and that the denial does not remove the obligation. god has not invited you to love him if you prefer to do so; but he has absolutely commanded you and me to love and obey him. i have the right, if you have, to engage in any kind of amusement, and to follow my inclinations in all things; and it is your duty, equally with mine, to honor our master's law by shunning every wicked way. think of this, friend henry, i entreat you, and acknowledge the responsibility which you cannot remove; and from which, after accepting, you will not desire to be released." they had arrived at the store, and each went to his own department. these young men had entered the employment of a. b. & sons at the same time, about two years before the above conversation occurred. william had gained the confidence of his employers, and had risen in position. the senior partner intended retiring from business, and was looking about for a christian young man of ability and energy to propose as a partner for his sons; and had lately been thinking of william as a suitable person. he had observed him closely, and thought he saw in him the habits and qualifications necessary to make a successful business man. he had also been watching henry's course. he had heard of him at places where a young man who aspires to positions of truth and honor will never be seen, and was about proposing his discharge to the other members of the firm. he knew that a clerk whose style of living requires more money than his salary gives him will be very likely, indeed almost sure, to resort to dishonest practices to make up the deficiency. instances of this kind are every day occurring in our cities; and as long as we meet, as we may every morning and evening in the broadway stages, dainty looking young men, dressed in finer and fresher broadcloth than their employers wear, with heavy gold chains, fine chronometers, and diamond pins and rings, we may expect to hear of a great many more. that morning's conversation made a deep impression upon henry's mind. the subject had never been presented to him in that light before. he had imagined, as young persons are apt to suppose, that no moral responsibility rested upon him till he assumed it publicly by uniting with the church. henry did not mean to die a sinner. oh, no; he fully intended, after he had enjoyed what he considered the pleasures of youth, to settle down into christian manhood. after this talk with william he could not get rid of the idea of accountability to his god. his wicked amusements and extravagant habits appeared to him as they never had done before, and he began to see their inevitable tendency. the result was an entire change in his aims and conduct. this was so marked that it very soon became known to all of his associates, and, of course, to his employers. he remained in that house; gradually rising to the highest clerkship, and, finally, becoming the junior partner of the firm of which william had for some time been a member. his happiness and prosperity he always attributed to the word kindly spoken at the right time by his fellow clerk. he has been successful not only as a merchant, but as a christian, exerting a powerful influence for good upon all about him, but particularly upon the young men employed in his house. "live for something! all created nature doth reciprocate her kindness. should the animated this great law invalidate? rather show thy grateful praises to thy god who reigns above, in acts that sorrow's soul releases-- 'words of kindness,' 'deeds of love.'" another commandment a new presiding elder, mr. n., was expected in the district; and as all the ministers stopped with brother w. and his wife, every preparation was made to give him a cordial reception. the honest couple thought that religion in that part consisted in making parade, and therefore the parlor was put in order, a nice fire was made, and the kitchen replenished with cake, chickens, and every delicacy, preparatory to cooking. while mr. w. was out at the wood-pile, a plain-looking, coarsely dressed, but quiet-like pedestrian, came along and asked the distance to the next town. he was told it was three miles. being very cold, he asked permission to enter and warm himself. assent was given very grudgingly, and both went into the kitchen. the wife looked daggers at this untimely intrusion, for the stranger had on cowhide boots, an old hat, and a threadbare, but neatly patched coat. at length she gave him a chair beside the dutch oven which was baking nice cakes for the presiding elder, who was momentarily expected, as he was to preach the next day at the church a mile or two beyond. the stranger, after warming himself, prepared to leave, but the weather became inclement, and as his appetite was aroused by the viands about the fire, he asked for some little refreshment ere he set out for a cold walk to the town beyond. mrs. w. was displeased, but on consultation with her husband, cold bacon and bread were set out on an old table, and he was somewhat gruffly told to eat. it was growing dark, and hints were thrown out that the stranger had better depart, as it was three long miles to town. the homely meal was at last concluded--the man thanked him kindly for the hospitality he had received, and opened the door to go. but it was quite dark and the clouds denoting a storm filled the heavens. "you say it is full three miles to d----?" "i do," said mr. w. coldly. "i said so when you first stopped, and you ought to have pushed on, like a prudent man. you could have reached there before it was quite dark." "but i was cold and hungry, and might have fainted by the way." his manner of saying this touched the farmer's feelings a little. "you have warmed and fed me, for which i am thankful. will you now bestow another act of kindness upon one in a strange place, who if he goes out into the darkness, may lose himself and perish in the cold?" the particular form in which this request was made, and the tone in which it was uttered, put it out of the farmer's heart to say no. "go in there and sit down," he answered, pointing to the kitchen, "and i will see my wife and hear what she says." and mr. w. went into the parlor where the supper table stood, covered with snow-white cloth, and displaying his wife's set of blue-sprigged china, that was brought out only on special occasions. the tall mold candles were burning thereon, and on the hearth blazed a cheerful fire. "hasn't that old fellow gone yet?" asked mrs. w. she heard his voice as he returned from the door. "no, and what do you suppose, he wants us to let him stay all night." "indeed, we will do no such thing. we cannot have the likes of him in the house now. where could he sleep?" "not in the best room, even if mr. n. did not come." "no, indeed!" "but really i don't see, jane, how we can turn him out of doors. he doesn't look like a strong man, and it's full three miles to d----." "it's too much; he ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and not lingered here, as he did, till it got dark." "we can't turn him out of doors, jane, and it's no use to think of it. he'll have to stay somehow." "but what can we do with him?" "he seems like a decent man at least; and doesn't look as if he had anything bad about him. we might make a bed on the floor." when mr. w. returned to the kitchen, where the stranger had seated himself before the fire, he informed him that he had decided to let him stay all night. the man expressed in few words his grateful sense of their kindness, and then became silent and thoughtful. soon after the farmer's wife, giving up all hope of mr. n.'s arrival, had supper taken up, which consisted of coffee, warm short-cake, and broiled chicken. after all was on the table, a short conference was held as to whether it would do not to invite the stranger to take supper. it was true they had given him as much bread and bacon as he could eat, but then, as long as he was going to stay all night, it looked too inhospitable to sit down to the table and not ask him to join them. so, making a virtue of necessity, he was kindly asked to come to supper--an invitation which he did not decline. grace was said over the meal by mr. w., and the coffee poured, and the bread helped, and the meat carved. there was a fine little boy, six years old, at the table, who had been brightened up and dressed in his best, in order to grace the minister's reception. charles was full of talk, and the parents felt a mutual pride in showing him off, even before their humble guest, who noticed him particularly, though he had not much to say. "come, charley," said mr. w., after the meal was over, and he sat leaning in his chair, "can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma taught you last sabbath?" charley started off without any further invitation, and repeated very accurately two or three verses of a camp-meeting hymn, that was then popular. "now let us hear you say the commandments, charley," spoke up the mother, well pleased with her son's performance. and charley repeated them with a little prompting. "how many commandments are there?" asked the father. the child hesitated, and then looking at the stranger, near whom he sat, said innocently:-- "how many are there?" the man thought for some moments, and said, as if in doubt, "eleven, are there not?" "eleven!" ejaculated mrs. w. in unfeigned surprise. "eleven?" said her husband with more rebuke than astonishment in his voice. "is it possible, sir, that you do not know how many commandments there are? how many are there, charley? come, tell me--you know, of course." "ten," replied the child. "right, my son," returned mr. w., looking with a smile of approval on the child. "right, there isn't a child of his age in ten miles who can't tell you there are ten commandments." "did you ever read the bible, sir?" addressing the stranger. "when i was a boy i used to read it sometimes. but i am sure i thought that there were eleven commandments. are you not mistaken about there being ten?" sister w. lifted her hands in unfeigned astonishment, and exclaimed:-- "could any one believe it? such ignorance of the bible!" mr. w. did not reply, but rose, and going to the corner of the room where the good book lay upon the stand, he put it on the table before him, and opened to that portion in which the commandments are recorded. "there," he said, placing his finger upon the proof of the stranger's error, "there, look for yourself." the man came around from his side of the table and looked over the stranger's shoulder. "there, do'ye see?" "yes, it does say so," replied the man, "and yet it seems to me there are eleven. i'm sure i always thought so." "doesn't it say ten here?" inquired mr. w. with marked impatience in his voice. "it does, certainly." "well, what more do you want? can't you believe the bible?" "oh, yes, i believe the bible; and yet it strikes me somehow that there must be eleven commandments. hasn't one been added somewhere else?" now this was too much for brother and sister w. to bear. such ignorance of sacred matters they felt to be unpardonable. a long lecture followed, in which the man was scolded, admonished, and threatened with divine indignation. at its close he modestly asked if he might have the bible to read for an hour or two before retiring for the night. this request was granted with more pleasure than any of the preceding ones. [illustration: christ blessing little children] shortly after supper the man was conducted to the little spare room, accompanied by the bible. before leaving him alone, mr. w. felt it to be his duty to exhort him to spiritual things, and he did so most earnestly for ten or fifteen minutes. but he could not see that his words made much impression, and he finally left his guest, lamenting his obduracy and ignorance. in the morning he came down, and meeting mr. w., asked if he would be so kind as to lend him a razor, that he might remove his beard, which did not give his face a very attractive appearance. his request was complied with. "we will have prayers in about ten minutes," said mr. w., as he handed him the razor and shaving box. the man appeared and behaved with due propriety at family worship. after breakfast he thanked the farmer and his wife for their hospitality, and parting went on his journey. ten o'clock came, but mr. n. had not arrived. so mr. and mrs. w. started for the meeting-house, not doubting they would find him there. but they were disappointed. a goodly number of people were inside the meeting-house, and a goodly number outside, but the minister had not arrived. "where is mr. n----?" inquired a dozen voices, as a crowd gathered around the farmer. "he hasn't come yet. something has detained him. but i still look for him--indeed, i fully expected to find him here." the day was cold, and mr. w., after becoming thoroughly chilled, concluded to keep a good lookout for the minister from the window near which he usually sat. others, from the same cause, followed his example, and the little meeting-house was soon filled, and one after another came dropping in. the farmer, who turned towards the door each time it was opened, was a little surprised to see his guest of the previous evening enter, and come slowly down the aisle, looking on either side, as if searching for a vacant seat, very few of which were now left. still advancing, he finally got within the little enclosed altar, and ascended to the pulpit, took off his old grey overcoat and sat down. by this time mr. w. was by his side, and had his hand upon his arm. "you mustn't sit here. come down and i will show you a seat," he said, in an excited tone. "thank you," replied the man in a composed voice. "it is very comfortable here." and the man remained immovable. mr. w., feeling embarrassed, went down, intending to get a brother "official" to assist him in making a forcible ejection of the man from the place he was desecrating. immediately upon his doing so, however, the man rose, and standing up at the desk, opened the hymn-book. his voice thrilled to the finger ends of brother w. as in a distinct and impressive manner he gave out the hymn beginning: "help us to help each other, lord, each other's cross to bear; let each his friendly aid afford, and feel a brother's care." the congregation rose, after the stranger had read the entire hymn, and had repeated the first two lines for them to sing. brother w. usually started the tunes. he tried this time, but went off on a long meter tune. discovering his mistake at the second word, he balked and tried it again, but now he stumbled on short meter. a musical brother came to his aid and led off with a tune that suited the measure in which the hymn was written. after singing, the congregation knelt, and the minister--for no one doubted his real character--addressed the throne of grace with much fervor and eloquence. the reading of a chapter in the bible succeeded. then there was a deep pause throughout the room in anticipation of the text, which the preacher prepared to announce. the dropping of a pin might have been heard. then the fine, emphatic tones of the preacher filled the room:-- "_a new commandment i give unto you, that ye love one another._" brother w. had bent forward to listen, but now he sunk back in his seat. this was the eleventh commandment. the sermon was deep, searching, yet affectionate and impressive. the preacher uttered nothing that could in the least wound the brother and sister of whose hospitality he had partaken, but he said much that smote upon their hearts, and made them painfully conscious that they had not shown as much kindness to the stranger as he had been entitled to receive on the broad principles of humanity. but they suffered more from mortification of feeling. to think that they had treated the presiding elder of the district after such a fashion was deeply humiliating; and the idea of the whole affair getting abroad interfered sadly with their devotional feelings throughout the whole period of service. at last the sermon was over, the ordinance administered and the benediction pronounced. brother w. did not know what was best for him to do. he never was more at a loss in his life. then mr. n. descended from the pulpit; but he did not step forward to meet him. how could he do that? others gathered around him, but still he lingered and held back. "where is brother w.?" he at length heard asked. it was the voice of the minister. "here he is," said one or two, opening the way to where the farmer stood. the preacher advanced, and catching his hand, said:-- "how do you do, brother w., i am glad to see you. and where is sister w.?" sister w. was brought forward, and the preacher shook hands with them heartily, while his face was lit up with smiles. "i believe i am to find a home with you," he said, as if it was settled. before the still embarrassed brother and sister could make reply, some one asked:-- "how came you to be detained so late? you were expected last night. and where is brother r.?" "brother r. is sick," replied mr. n., "and i had to come alone. five miles from this my horse gave out, and i had to come the rest of the way on foot. but i became so cold and weary, that i found it necessary to ask a farmer not far from here, to give me a night's lodging, which he was kind enough to do. i thought i was still three miles off, but it happened that i was very much nearer my journey's end than i supposed." this explanation was satisfactory to all parties, and in due time the congregation dispersed, and the presiding elder went home with brother and sister w. the ten commandments. i thou shalt have no other gods before me. ii thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for i the lord thy god am a jealous god, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments. iii thou shalt not take the name of the lord thy god in vain; for the lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. iv remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the sabbath of the lord thy god: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: for in six days the lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it. v honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the lord thy god giveth thee. vi thou shalt not kill. vii thou shalt not commit adultery. viii thou shalt not steal. ix thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. x thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor's. make it plain. on the sixteenth day after the battle of gettysburg, i entered the room where a young wounded colonel was apparently near to death. as i entered, he was roused from his stupor and beckoned me to his bedside, and threw his feeble arms around my neck. "o my father, how glad i am to see you. i was afraid you would not come till it was too late. i am too feeble to say much, though i have a great many things to say to you; you must do all the talking. tell me all about dear mother and sister." i soon perceived by the appearance of those in the house, that there was no hope entertained of his recovery. but as i could no longer endure the agony of suspense, i at last inquired of the doctor, "doctor, what do you think of my son's case?" "entirely hopeless." "but is there nothing more that can be done to save him?" "no, sir. every thing that human skill and kindness can do has been done. your son has been a brave and very successful officer; has been a great favorite in the army; has won the highest esteem of all who have known him, but he now must die. immediately after the amputation the gangrene set in, and defies all efforts to arrest it." "well, doctor, how long do you think he can live?" "not more than four days. he may drop away at any hour. we are constantly fearing that an artery will give way, and then it is all over with the colonel. what you wish to do in reference to his death, you had better do at once." "have you, or has any one, told him of his real condition?" "no. we have left that painful duty for you to do, as we have been expecting your arrival for several days." as i entered the room with the dreadful message of death pressing on my heart, the eyes of my son fastened on me. "come, sit by my side, father. have you been talking with the doctor about me?" "yes." "what did he tell you? does he think i shall recover?" there was a painful hesitation for a moment. "don't be afraid to tell me just what he said." "he told me you must die." "how long does he think i can live?" "not to exceed four days, and that you may drop away any hour,--that an artery may slough at any moment which you cannot survive." with great agitation he exclaimed, "father, is that so? then i must die! i cannot. i must not die! oh! i am not prepared to die now. do tell me how i can get ready? make it so plain that i can get hold of it. tell me, in a few words, if you can, so that i can see it plainly. i know you can, father, for i used to hear you explain it to others." 't was no time now for tears, but for calmness and light, by which to lead the soul to christ, and both were given. "my son, i see you are afraid to die." "yes, i am." "well, i suppose you feel guilty." "yes, that is it. i have been a wicked young man. you know how it is in the army." "you want to be forgiven, don't you?" "oh, yes! that is what i want. can i be, father?" "certainly." "can i know it before i die?" "certainly." "well now, father, make it so plain that i can get hold of it." at once, an incident which occurred during the school days of my son, came to my mind. i had not thought of it before for several years. now it came back to me, fresh with its interest, and just what was wanted to guide the agitated heart of this young inquirer to jesus. "do you remember while at school in ---- you came home one day, and i having occasion to rebuke you, you became very angry and abused me with harsh language?" "yes, father, i was thinking it all over a few days ago, as i thought of your coming to see me, and felt so bad about it, that i wanted to see you, and once more ask you to forgive me." "do you remember, how, after the paroxysm of your anger had subsided, you came in, and threw your arms around my neck, and said, 'my dear father, i am sorry i abused you so. it was not your loving son that did it. i was very angry. won't you forgive me?'" "yes, i remember it very distinctly." "do you remember what i said to you as you wept upon my neck?" "very well. you said, 'i forgive you with all my heart,' and kissed me. i shall never forget those words." "did you believe me?" "certainly. i never doubted your word." "did you then feel happy again?" "yes, perfectly; and since that time i have loved you more than ever before. i shall never forget how it relieved me when you looked upon me so kindly, and said, 'i forgive you with all my heart.'" "well, now, this is just the way to come to jesus. tell him you are sorry just as you told me, and ten thousand times quicker than a father's love forgave you, will he forgive you. he says he will. then you must take his word for it, just as you did mine." "why, father, is this the way to become a christian?" "i don't know of any other." "why, father, i can get hold of this. i am so glad you have come to tell me how." he turned his head upon his pillow for rest. i sank into my chair and wept freely, for my heart could no longer suppress its emotions. i had done my work, and committed the case to christ. he, too, i was soon assured had done his. the broken heart had made its confession, had heard what it longed for, "i forgive you," and believed it. it was but a few moments of silence, but the new creation had taken place, the broken heart had made its short, simple prayer, and believed, and the new heart had been given. a soul had passed out from nature's darkness into marvelous light, and from the power of sin and satan unto god. i soon felt the nervous hand on my head, and heard the word "father," in such a tone of tenderness and joy, that i knew the change had come. "father, my dear father, i don't want you to weep any more, you need not. i am perfectly happy now. jesus has forgiven me. i know he has, for he says so, and i take his word for it, just as i did yours. wipe your tears. i am not afraid to die now. if it is god's will, i should like to live to serve my country, and take care of you and mother, but if i must die, i am not afraid to now, jesus has forgiven me. come, father, let us sing,-- "'when i can read my title clear,'" and we did sing. "now, father, i want you should pray, and i will follow you." we did pray, and jesus heard us. "father, i am very happy. why, i believe i shall get well. i feel much better." from that hour all his symptoms changed--pulse went down, and countenance brightened. the current of life had changed. the doctor soon came in and found him cheerful and happy--looked at him--felt his pulse, which he had been watching with intense anxiety, and said,-- "why, colonel, you look better." "i am better, doctor. i am going to get well. my father has told me how to become a christian, and i am very happy. i believe i shall recover, for god has heard my prayer. doctor, i want you should become a christian, too. my father can tell you how to get hold of it." in the evening three surgeons were in consultation, but saw no hope in the case, and one of them took his final leave of the colonel. next morning the two surgeons, who had been in constant attendance, came in and began as usual to dress the wound. on opening the bandage, they suddenly drew back, and throwing up their arms, exclaimed,-- "great god, this is a miracle! the gangrene is arrested, and the colonel will live! god has heard your prayers!" "why, doctor," replied the colonel, "i told you yesterday, that i believed i should get well, for i asked jesus that i might live to do some good. i knew he heard my prayer, and now you see he has. bless the lord with me, doctor." meanwhile, "_our son must die_," had gone over the wires, and made sadness at home. next day, "_our son will live, and is happy in christ_," followed, and joy came again to the loved ones. after his recovery, the colonel returned to the people whose sons he had led with honor through fifteen hard-fought battles. they, in return, gave him the best office in the gift of a loyal and grateful people. among them he now lives in prosperity and honor, he is a member of the church of christ, and the father of a happy family growing up around him, and consecrated to the service of his redeemer. i, too, was made a better man and better minister by that scene, where this dear son, struggling with his guilt and fear of death, was led to jesus, and found the pardon of his sins. i there resolved never to forget that charge he made me, in his extremity: _"make it so plain that i can get hold of it."_ i have made this the motto of every sermon i have preached, and god has blessed the effort. a christian life. "a christian life, have you ever thought how much is in that name? a life like christ, and all he taught we must follow, to be the same. how little of ease the saviour knew with his life of labor and love! and if we would walk in his footsteps too, we must look not to earth, but above. the darkest hour the christian knows is just before the dawn; for as the night draws to its close, it will bring in the morn. so if you trust, though shadows fall, and dark your pathway be, the light, which shines from heaven for all, will surely fall on thee." a retired merchant a london merchant engaged in mediterranean commerce, had successfully prosecuted his business, and amassed what all merchants desire, an ample fortune. his, indeed, was a princely one. he had purchased a large and beautiful estate in the country, and had built and furnished a splendid mansion in town, on the surrey side of the river, and now that he was verging towards sixty, he concluded to retire and enjoy the remnant of his life in peaceful leisure. he negotiated for the sale of his abundance-making business, and sold it for another fortune. he then retired. he was a bachelor. he had his halls, his parlors, dining-rooms, and drawing-rooms, his library and cabinets of curiosities. the floors were covered with the most mosaic specimens of brussels and turkey carpetings, the furniture was of the most complete and exquisite selections, the walls were adorned with splendid mirrors and with classic paintings, and fine linen decorated all. carriages, horses, grooms, and servants were at his command. books, pictures, and engravings were at hand to interest him. the daily and the weekly papers, and the periodicals, brought to his table all the news of the great world, and his friends and his acquaintances paid him homage. how happy must the man be who has all this! _he_ was not happy. he had no aim, no motive. the zest with which he read the papers when he was a merchant, he had lost now he had ceased to be engaged in commerce. a storm, a fleet, a pestilence along the mediterranean shores, was full of interest to him before, because he had investments there. now, they were of no consequence to him. the views and aims of government were watched by him before with searching scrutiny, because his destiny was bound up with theirs. the parliamentary debates were of the greatest consequence before, as indicating british policy; but that to him now ceased to be an object of importance. his fortune was achieved, his course was run, his destiny fulfilled. soon, every thing and place appeared to him one uniform and universal blank. his beautiful apartments were unused, his carriage and horses unemployed, his books unread, his papers unopened, his meals untasted, and his clothes unworn. he had lost all enjoyment of life, and contemplated suicide. saturday night arrived, and he resolved on sunday morning early, before the busy populace were stirring, he would make his way to waterloo bridge and jump into the river, or tumble off. at three o'clock, he set out on his final expedition, and had nearly reached the bridge, the shadows of the night protecting him from observation, when a figure stood before him. amazed at being seen by any one, he turned out of the path, when the figure crouching low before him, revealed a tattered, miserable man, baring his head in abjectness. "what are you doing here?" inquired the retired merchant. "i have a wife and family, whom i can't help from starving, and i am afraid to go and see them. last night i knew they would be turned into the streets," replied the man. "take that," replied the merchant, giving him his purse, with gold and silver in it--thinking to himself, "how much more useful this will be to him, than in my pockets in the water." "god bless you, sir--god bless you, sir," exclaimed the man several times, kneeling before the astonished merchant. "stop," said the merchant, "do not overwhelm me so with your thanksgivings--but tell me where you live." "in lambeth, sir." "then why are you _here_ this morning?" said the merchant. "i do not like to tell you," said the man. "i am ashamed to tell a gentleman like you." "why so?" replied the merchant. "well, sir," replied the man, "as i had not a single penny, and did not know how to get one, i came here to drown myself, although i knew 't was wicked!" the merchant was astonished and appalled, and after a long silence, said, "sir, i am overwhelmed with wealth, and yet i am so miserable that i came here this morning for the same purpose as yourself. there's something more in this than i can understand at present. let me go with you to see your family." the man made every excuse to hinder the merchant, but he would go. "have you lost your character?" said the merchant. "no, sir," replied the man, "but i am so miserably poor and wretched--and, for anything i know, my wife and children may be turned into the street." "why are you out of work and pay?" resumed the merchant. "i used to groom the horses of the stage-coaches," said the man, "but since the railroads are come up the coaches are put down, and many men, like me, have no employment." they plodded on their way, two miles of brick and mortar piled on either side. at last they came to a third-rate house, when a rough, common-looking woman opened the door and shutter. as soon as she saw the man, she let loose her tongue upon him for all the villainy in the world, but something which passed from his hand to hers hushed her in an instant; and observing the merchant, she courtesied to him civilly. the man ran up-stairs, leaving the merchant and woman together, which gave the former an opportunity to make inquiries. having satisfied himself that want was the crime of the family, he told the woman who he was, promised to see her paid, and induced her to set on and cook a breakfast for the family, and supply them with any thing which they needed. the man returned, and the merchant went up-stairs to see, for the first time, the wretched family in rags, dirt, and misery. he comforted them with hope of better days, and bidding the man take a hasty meal below, took him with him, and helped with his own hands to load a cart with bed, bedding, clothes, furniture, and food for the family. the man was gone, and the merchant for the first moment, reflected on all that had passed. he was relieved of his misery by doing something for another, and out of mere selfishness he resolved on doing good to others, to prevent the necessity for drowning himself. he employed the man in his stable, removed the family near, and placed them in a cottage, sending the children to school. soon he sought out misery to relieve, and was led to consider the cause of all misery--sin. he turned to god and found him, and sought to turn his fellow sinners. he aided every good word and work, and was the humble teller of his own humbling story. he had been a merchantman seeking goodly pearls, and having found the pearl of great price, he went and sold all that he had, and bought it; and the retired earthly merchant became an active heavenly merchant. "better the valley with peace and love than the desolate heights some souls attain; lonely is life on the hills above the valley lands and the sunny plain. what is fame to love? can it satisfy the longing and lonely hearts of men? on the heights they must hunger and starve and die, come back to the valley of peace again!" effect of novel reading on the romantic borders of a beautiful river, in one of our northern states, there is situated an elegant mansion. spacious grounds surround the dwelling, and, what is not usual in this country, it has a terraced garden. this is a hill, situated at the side of the house, presenting a mass of living verdure. you ascend gradually, step by step, each platform, as it were, richly embroidered with brilliant flowers. in this retreat of elegance and retirement, lived mr. and mrs. m., their daughter, and a french governess. no expense or labor had been spared to make this daughter an accomplished woman; but not one thought was ever bestowed upon the immortal interests of her soul. at the age of sixteen, she was beautiful and intelligent, but utterly destitute of all religious principle. enthusiastically fond of reading, she roamed her father's spacious library, and selected whatever books best pleased her. of an imaginative turn, earnest and impassioned, hers was the very mind that required the strong, controlling hand of a matured judgment. yet it was left to feed at will upon the poisoned fruits that lie scattered around. she naturally turned to the novels that stored the library shelves; and at sixteen was as much at home in the pages of bulwer as she was in her french grammar. the ridiculous romances of mrs. radcliffe were laid aside with disgust, and bulwer, james, and others, took their place. but she descended a step, many steps lower, and, supplied by the governess, eagerly devoured the very worst fictions of eugene sue and george sand. next she was heard discussing and excusing the most heinous crimes of which human nature can be guilty. her parents heard with horror her freely expressed sentiments, and wondered where she had inhaled such lax ideas. they never thought of looking into her library for the cause, or at the unprincipled governess. the poison began to do its work; she could no longer live this tame life; she must have something more exciting, more exhilarating. the resolution was formed; with a beating heart she collected her mother's jewels; took one long look at her indulgent parents; bade a silent farewell to the scenes of her happy childhood, and left the house forever. no warning voice implored her to return; no hand was stretched out to save. on, on she went, until she reached the far-off city. its lights dazzled her, its noise confused her, but she never regretted the peaceful home she had so culpably deserted. her plan was to go on the stage, and become a renowned actress, like the heroine of one of her french novels. but this was not so easily achieved as she imagined; and after a most unsuccessful attempt, she was compelled to act only in subordinate parts. she had lost home, happiness, and respectability, and had not gained that fame for which she had sacrificed so much. but it would be too painful to follow her through all her wretched life, and tell how each succeeding year she grew more degraded and more miserable, until at length having run a fearful career of vice she sank into a dishonored and early grave. no mother's hand wiped the cold death-dew from her brow; no kind voice whispered hope and consolation. alone, poor, degraded, utterly unrepentant, she will appear before the judgment-seat of christ; we pause; for we dare not follow it further. the sound of her name never echoed through the halls of her childhood. her father, stern and silent, buried all memories of his guilty child deep within his heart; whilst the mother, wan, broken-hearted, hopeless, wept in secret those tears of bitter agony whose fountain was perpetually welling afresh. it is "to point a moral" that we have opened these annals of the past; and we would have the young ponder well the lesson that this history teaches. there _is_ a danger in novel reading; it vitiates the taste, enervates the understanding, and destroys all inclination for spiritual enjoyment. the soul that is bound in fetters of this habit, _cannot_ rise to the contemplation of heavenly things. it has neither the inclination nor the power. we knew one, who, even with death in view, turned with loathing away from the only book that could bring her peace and salvation, to feed greedily on the pages of a foolish romance. it matters not that some of the finest minds have given their powers to this style of writing; that bright gems of intellect flash along their pages. the danger is so much the greater; for the jewels scattered by genius, blind even while they dazzle. "some of the greatest evils of my life," said a remarkable woman, "i trace to the eager perusal of what are called 'well-written novels.' i lived in a world of delusion. i had no power to separate the false from the real. my bible lay covered with dust; i had no desire for its pages." oh, then, if the young would reach a heavenly haven; if they would be guided unto "the still waters" of everlasting bliss, let them avoid the dangerous rock of novel reading, upon which so many souls have been shipwrecked and utterly lost. to-day's furrow. sow the shining seeds of service in the furrows of each day, plant each one with serious purpose, in a hopeful, tender way. never lose one seed, nor cast it wrongly with an hurried hand; take full time to lay it wisely, where and how thy god hath planned. this the blessed way of sharing with another soul your gains, while, though losing life, you find it yielding fruit on golden plains; for the soul which sows its blessings great or small, in word or smile, gathers as the master promised, either here or afterwhile. be just before generous. my friend peyton was what is called a "fine, generous fellow." he valued money only as a means of obtaining what he desired, and was always ready to spend it with an acquaintance for mutual gratification. of course, he was a general favorite. every one spoke well of him, and few hesitated to give his ears the benefit of their good opinion. i was first introduced to him when he was in the neighborhood of twenty-two years of age. peyton was then a clerk in the receipt of six hundred dollars a year. he grasped my hand with an air of frankness and sincerity, that at once installed him in my good opinion. a little pleasure excursion was upon the tapis, and he insisted on my joining it. i readily consented. there were five of us, and the expense to each, if borne mutually, would have been something like one dollar. peyton managed everything, even to paying the bills; and when i offered to pay him my proportion, he said:-- "no, no!"--pushing back my hand--"nonsense!" "yes; but i must insist upon meeting my share of the expense." "not a word more. the bill's settled, and you needn't trouble your head about it," was his reply; and he seemed half offended when i still urged upon him to take my portion of the cost. "what a fine, generous fellow peyton is!" said one of the party to me, as we met the next day. "did he also refuse to let you share in the expense of our excursion?" i asked. "after what he said to you, i was afraid of offending him by proposing to do so." "he certainly is generous--but, i think, to a fault, if i saw a fair specimen of his generosity yesterday." "we should be just, as well as generous." "i never heard that he was not just." "nor i. but i think he was not just to himself. and i believe it will be found to appear in the end, that, if we are not just to ourselves, we will, somewhere in life, prove unjust to others. i think that his salary is not over twelve dollars a week. if he bore the whole expense of our pleasure excursion, it cost him within a fraction of half his earnings for a week. had we all shared alike, it would not have been a serious matter to any of us." "oh! as to that, it is no very serious matter to him. he will never think of it." "but, if he does so very frequently, he may _feel_ it sooner or later," i replied. "i'm sure i don't know anything about that," was returned. "he is a generous fellow, and i cannot but like him. indeed, every one likes him." some days afterwards i fell in with peyton again, and, in order to retaliate a little, invited him to go and get some refreshments with me. he consented. when i put my hand in my pocket to pay for them, his hand went into his. but i was too quick for him. he seemed uneasy about it. he could feel pleased while giving, but it evidently worried him to be the recipient. from that time, for some years, i was intimate with the young man. i found that he set no true value upon money. he spent it freely with every one; and every one spoke well of him. "what a generous, whole-souled fellow he is!" or, "what a noble heart he has!" were the expressions constantly made in regard to him. while "mean, stingy fellow!" and other such epithets, were unsparingly used in speaking of a quiet, thoughtful young man, named merwin, who was clerk with him in the same store. merwin appeared to set a due value upon time and money. he rarely indulged himself in any way, and it was with difficulty that he could ever be induced to join in any pleasures that involved much expense. but i always observed that when he did so, he was exact about paying his proportion. about two years after my acquaintance with peyton began, an incident let me deeper into the character and quality of his generosity. i called one day at the house of a poor widow woman who washed for me, to ask her to do up some clothes, extra to the usual weekly washing. i thought she looked as if she were in trouble about something, and said so to her. "it's very hard, at best," she replied, "for a poor woman, with four children to provide for, to get along, if she has to depend upon washing and ironing for a living. but when so many neglect to pay her regularly"-- "neglect to pay their washerwoman!" i said, in a tone of surprise, interrupting her. "oh, yes. many do that!" "who?" "dashing young men, who spend their money freely, are too apt to neglect these little matters, as they call them." "and do young men for whom you work really neglect to pay you?" "some do. there are at least fifteen dollars now owed to me, and i don't know which way to turn to get my last month's rent for my landlord, who has been after it three times this week already. mr. peyton owes me ten dollars and i can't"-- "mr. peyton? it can't be possible!" "yes, it is though. he used to be one of the most punctual young men for whom i washed. but lately he never has any money." "he's a very generous-hearted young man." "yes, i know he is," she replied. "but something is wrong with him. he looks worried whenever i ask him for money; and sometimes speaks as if half angry with me for troubling him. there's mr. merwin--i wish all were like him. i have never yet taken home his clothes, that i didn't find the money waiting for me, exact to a cent. he counts every piece when he lays out his washing for me, and knows exactly what it will come to; and then, if he happens to be out, the change is always left with the chambermaid. it's a pleasure to do anything for him." "he isn't liked generally so well as mr. peyton is," said i. "isn't he? it's strange!" the poor woman returned, innocently. on the very next day, i saw peyton riding out with an acquaintance in a buggy. "who paid for your ride yesterday?" i said to the latter, with whom i was quite familiar, when next we met. "oh, peyton, of course. he always pays, you know. he's a fine, generous fellow. i wish there were more like him." "that you might ride out for nothing a little oftener, hey?" my friend colored slightly. "no, not that," said he. "but you know there is so much selfishness in the world; we hardly ever meet a man who is willing to make the slightest sacrifice for the good of others." "true. and i suppose it is this very selfishness that makes us so warmly admire a man like mr. peyton, who is willing to gratify us at his own charge. it's a pleasant thing to ride out and see the country, but we are apt to think twice about the cost before we act once. but if some friend will only stand the expense, how generous and whole-souled we think him! it is the same in everything else. we like the enjoyment, but can't afford the expense; and he is a generous, fine-hearted fellow, who will squander his money in order to gratify us. isn't that it, my friend?" he looked half convinced, and a little sheepish, to use an expressive saxonism. on the evening succeeding this day, peyton sat alone in his room, his head leaning upon his hand, and his brow contracted. there was a tap at his door. "come in." a poorly clad, middle-aged woman entered. it was his washerwoman. the lines on the young man's brow became deeper. "can't you let me have some money, mr. peyton? my landlord is pressing hard for his rent, and i cannot pay him until you pay me." "really, mrs. lee, it is quite impossible just now. i am entirely out of money. but my salary will be due in three weeks, and then i will pay you up the whole. you must make your landlord wait until that time. i am very sorry to put you to this trouble. but it will never happen again." the young man really did feel sorry, and expressed it in his face as well as in the tone of his voice. "can't you let me have one or two dollars, mr. peyton? i am entirely out of money." "it is impossible--i haven't a shilling left. but try to wait three weeks, and then it will all come to you in a lump, and do you a great deal more good than if you had it a dollar at a time." mrs. lee retired slowly, and with a disappointed air. the young man sighed heavily as she closed the door after her. he had been too generous, and now he could not be just. the buggy in which he had driven out with his friend on that day had cost him his last two dollars--a sum which would have lightened the heart of his poor washerwoman. "the fact is, my salary is too small," said he, rising and walking about his room uneasily. "it is not enough to support me. if the account were fully made up, tailor's bill, bootmaker's bill, and all, i dare say i should find myself at least three hundred dollars in debt." merwin received the same salary that he did, and was just three hundred dollars ahead. he dressed as well, owed no man a dollar, and was far happier. it is true, he was not called a "fine, generous fellow," by persons who took good care of their own money, while they were very willing to enjoy the good things of life at a friend's expense. but he did not mind this. the want of such a reputation did not disturb his mind very seriously. after mrs. lee had been gone half an hour, peyton's door was flung suddenly open. a young man, bounding in, with extended hand came bustling up to him. "ah, peyton, my fine fellow! how are you? how are you?" and he shook peyton's hand quite vigorously. "hearty!--and how are you, freeman?" "oh, gay as a lark. i have come to ask a favor of you." "name it." "i want fifty dollars." peyton shrugged his shoulders. "i must have it, my boy? i never yet knew you to desert a friend, and i don't believe you will do so now." "suppose i haven't fifty dollars?" "you can borrow it for me. i only want it for a few days. you shall have it back on next monday. try for me--there's a generous fellow!" "there's a generous fellow," was irresistible. it came home to peyton in the right place. he forgot poor mrs. lee, his unpaid tailor's bill, and sundry other troublesome accounts. "if i can get an advance of fifty dollars on my salary to-morrow, you shall have it." "thank you! thank you! i knew i shouldn't have to ask twice when i called upon henry peyton. it always does me good to grasp the hand of such a man as you are." on the next day, an advance of fifty dollars was asked and obtained. this sum was lent as promised. in two weeks, the individual who borrowed it was in new orleans, from whence he had the best of reasons for not wishing to return to the north. of course, the generous henry peyton lost his money. an increase of salary to a thousand dollars only made him less careful of his money. before, he lived as freely as if his income had been one-third above what it was; now, he increased his expenses in like ratio. it was a pleasure to him to spend his money--not for himself alone, but among his friends. it is no cause of wonder, that in being so generous to some, he was forced to be unjust to others. he was still behindhand with his poor washerwoman--owed for boarding, clothes, hats, boots, and a dozen other matters--and was, in consequence, a good deal harassed with duns. still, he was called by some of his old cronies, "a fine, generous fellow." a few were rather colder in their expressions. he had borrowed money from them, and did not offer to return it, and he was such a generous-minded young man, that they felt a delicacy about calling his attention to it. "can you raise two thousand dollars?" was asked of him by a friend, when he was twenty-seven years old. "if you can, i know a first-rate chance to get into business." "indeed! what is the nature of it?" the friend told him all he knew, and he was satisfied that a better offering might never present itself. but two thousand dollars were indispensable. "can't you borrow it?" suggested the friend. "i will try." "try your best. you will never again have such an opportunity." peyton did try, but in vain. those who could lend it to him considered him "too good-hearted a fellow" to trust with money; and he was forced to see that tide, which if he could have taken it at the flood, would have led him on to fortune, slowly and steadily recede. to merwin the same offer was made. he had fifteen hundred dollars laid by, and easily procured the balance. no one was afraid to trust him with money. "what a fool i have been!" was the mental exclamation of peyton, when he learned that his fellow-clerk had been able, with his own earnings, on a salary no larger than his own, to save enough to embrace the golden opportunity which he was forced to pass by. "they call merwin _mean_ and _selfish_--and i am called a _generous fellow_. that means, he has acted like a wise man, and i like a fool, i suppose. i know him better than they do. he is neither mean nor selfish, but careful and prudent, as i ought to have been. his mother is poor, and so is mine. ah, me!" and the thought of his mother caused him to clasp both hands against his forehead. "i believe two dollars of his salary have been sent weekly to his poor mother. but i have never helped mine a single cent. there is the mean man, and here is the generous one. fool! fool! wretch! he has fifteen hundred dollars ahead, after having sent his mother one hundred dollars a year for five or six years, and i am over five hundred dollars in debt. a fine, generous fellow, truly!" the mind of peyton was, as it should be, disturbed to its very center. his eyes were fairly opened, and he saw just where he stood, and what he was worth as a generous man. "they have flattered my weakness," said he, bitterly, "to eat and drink and ride at my expense. it was very easy to say, 'how free-hearted he is,' so that i could hear them. a cheap way of enjoying the good things of life, verily! but the end of all this has come. one year from to-day, if i live, i will owe no man a dollar. my kind old mother, whom i have so long neglected, shall hear from me at once--ten dollars every month i dedicate to her. come what will, nothing shall touch that. this agreement with myself i solemnly enter into in the sight of heaven, and nothing shall tempt me to violate it." "are you going to ride out this afternoon, peyton?" inquired a young friend, breaking in upon him at this moment. "yes, if you'll hire the buggy," was promptly returned. "i can't afford that." "nor i either. how much is your salary?" "only a thousand." "just what mine is. if you can't, i am sure i cannot." "of course, you ought to be the best judge. i knew you rode out often, and liked company." "yes, i have done so; but that's past. i've been a 'fine, generous fellow' long enough to get into debt and mar my prospects for life, perhaps; but i am going to assume a new character. no doubt the very ones who have had so many rides, oyster suppers, and theater tickets at my expense, will all at once discover that i am as mean and selfish as merwin, who has refrained from not only injurious, expensive indulgences, but even denied himself many innocent pleasures to save time and money for better purposes. i now wish i had been as truly noble and generous in the right direction as he has been." peyton went to work in the matter of reform in right good earnest, but he found it hard work; old habits and inclinations were very strong. still he had some strength of mind, and he brought this into as vigorous exercise as it was possible for him to do, mainly with success, but sometimes with gentle lapses into self-indulgence. his mother lived in a neighboring town, and was in humble circumstances. she supported herself by keeping a shop for the sale of various little articles. the old lady sat behind her counter, one afternoon, sewing, and thinking of her only son. "ah, me!" she sighed, "i thought henry would have done something for himself long before this; but he is a wild, free-hearted boy, and spends everything as he goes." "here's a letter for you at last, mrs. peyton," said the well-known voice of the postman, breaking in upon her just at this moment. with trembling hands, mrs. peyton broke the seal; a bank-bill crumpled in her fingers as she opened the letter. a portion of its contents read:-- "dear mother: i have had some very serious thoughts of late about my way of living. you know i never liked to be considered mean; this led me to be, what seemed to everybody, very generous. everybody was pleased to eat, and drink, and ride at my expense; but no one seemed inclined to let me do the same at his expense. i have been getting a good salary for six or seven years, and for a part of that time, as much as a thousand dollars. i am ashamed to say that i have not a farthing laid by; nay, what is worse, i owe a good many little bills. but, dear mother, i think i have come fairly to my senses. i have come to a resolution not to spend a dollar foolishly; thus far i have been able to keep my promise to myself, and, by the help of heaven, i mean to keep it to the end. my first thought, on seeing my folly, was of my shameful disregard to my mother's condition. in this letter are ten dollars. every month you will receive from me a like sum--more, if you need it. as soon as i can lay by a sufficient amount, i will look around for some means of entering into business, and, as soon after as possible, make provision for you, that your last days may be spent in ease and comfort." "god bless the dear boy!" exclaimed mrs. peyton, dropping the letter, while the tears gushed from her eyes. the happy mother wept long for joy. with her trembling hand she wrote a reply, and urged him, by the tenderest and most sacred considerations, to keep to his good resolutions. at the end of a year peyton examined his affairs and found himself freed from debt; but for nearly one hundred dollars of his wages he could not account. he puzzled over it for two or three evenings, and made out over fifty dollars spent foolishly. "no doubt the rest will have to be passed to that account," said he at last, half angry with himself. "i'll have to watch closer than this. at the end of the next year, i'll not be in doubt about where one hundred dollars have gone." it was but rarely, now, that you would hear the name of peyton mentioned. before, everybody said he was a "fine, generous fellow;" everybody praised him. now, he seemed to be forgotten, or esteemed of little consideration. he felt this; but he had started to accomplish a certain end, and he had sufficient strength of mind not to be driven from his course. in a few years he entered into business and succeeded beyond his expectations. he provided a home for his mother, and no one who saw her during the remaining ten years of her life would have called her unhappy. i know peyton still. he is not now, by general reputation, "a fine, generous fellow." but he is a good and respected citizen, and was a good son while his mother lived with him. he has won the means of really benefiting others, and few are more willing than he is to do it, when it can be done in the right way. he is still "generous"--but wisely so. consolation. "unto those who sit in sorrow, god has sent this precious word: not an earnest prayer or impulse of the heart ascends unheard. he who rides upon the tempest, heeds the sparrow when it falls, and with mercies crowns the humblest, when before the throne he calls." caught in the quicksand victor hugo gives the following impressive description of a death in the quicksand off certain coasts of brittany, or scotland. he says:-- it sometimes happens that a man, traveler or fisherman, walking on the beach at low tide, far from the bank, suddenly notices that for several minutes he has been walking with some difficulty. the strand beneath his feet is like pitch; his soles stick to it; it is sand no longer--it is glue. the beach is perfectly dry, but at every step he takes, as soon as he lifts his foot the print which it leaves fills with water. the eye, however, has noticed no change; the immense strand is smooth and tranquil; all the sand has the same appearance; nothing distinguishes the surface which is solid from that which is no longer so; the joyous little cloud of sand fleas continue to leap tumultuously over the wayfarer's feet. the man pursues his way, goes forward, inclines to the land, endeavors to get nearer the upland. he is not anxious. anxious about what? only he feels somehow as if the weight of his feet increases with every step he takes. suddenly he sinks in. he sinks in two or three inches. decidedly he is not on the right road; he stops to take his bearings. all at once he looks at his feet. they have disappeared. the sand covers them. he draws them out of the sand; he will retrace his steps; he turns back; he sinks in deeper. the sand comes up to his ankles; he pulls himself out and throws himself to the left; the sand is half-leg deep. he throws himself to the right; the sand comes up to his shins. then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has beneath him the fearful medium in which man can no more walk than the fish can swim. he throws off his load if he has one, lightens himself like a ship in distress; it is already too late; the sand is above his knees. he calls, he waves his hat or his handkerchief; the sand gains on him more and more. if the beach is deserted, if the land is too far off, if there is no help in sight, it is all over. he is condemned to that appalling burial, long, infallible, implacable, and impossible to slacken or to hasten, which endures for hours, which seizes you erect, free, and in full health, and which draws you by the feet, which at every effort that you make, at every shout you utter, drags you a little deeper, sinking you slowly into the earth while you look upon the horizon, the sails of the ships upon the sea, the birds flying and singing, the sunshine and the sky. the victim attempts to sit down, to lie down, to creep; every movement he makes inters him; he straightens up, he sinks in; he feels that he is being swallowed. he howls, implores, cries to the clouds, despairs. behold him waist deep in the sand. the sand reaches his breast; he is now only a bust. he raises his arm, utters furious groans, clutches the beach with his nails, would hold by that straw, leans upon his elbows to pull himself out of this soft sheath, sobs frenziedly; the sand rises. the sand reaches his shoulders; the sand reaches his neck; the face alone is visible now. the mouth cries, the sand fills it; silence. the eyes still gaze, the sand shuts them; night. now the forehead decreases, a little hair flutters above the sand; a hand comes to the surface of the beach, moves, and shakes, and disappears. it is the earth-drowning man. the earth filled with the ocean becomes a trap. it presents itself like a plain, and opens like a wave. could anything more graphically describe the progress of a young man, from the first cup of wine to the last? "once again." lord, in the silence of the night, lord, in the turmoil of the day; in time of rapture and delight, in hours of sorrow and dismay; yea, when my voice is filled with laughter, yea, when my lips are thinned with pain; for present joy, and joy hereafter, lord, i would thank thee once again. --_elmer james bailey._ "what shall it profit?" "why, archie allen, you are not ready for church yet; we shall surely be late," said the young wife as she entered the elegant library where her husband sat reading a choice volume of poetry. it was clara's first sabbath in her new home. she had but lately left the sheltering roof of a kind great-uncle, who had taken her to his home when a lonely orphan, and reared her very tenderly, surrounding her with every comfort and many of the elegancies of life. a gentleman some years her senior had won her heart's affection, and now she was installed as mistress of his beautiful city home. six months before she had publicly professed her love for the saviour, but she was yet in the morning of her religious life. she needed the fostering care of an experienced, devoted christian. would she meet with such aid from him who was to be her future companion and protector? "marry only in the lord," was the advice of an aged friend to the young girl. "archie is not a professor of religion," she reasoned with herself; "but he respects religion, i know, and who can tell what influence i may exert over him?" "you are not really going to church to-day, clara, dear, cold as it is?" said the young man dropping his book and looking up with a smile. "why, who ever heard of such a thing as staying at home from church unless one was ill!" "i think i am not very well, clara. won't you stay at home and take care of me? read me some poetry and sing a few of your sweet songs." clara looked at him a moment a little incredulously and then replied, "you are quite well, i know by your laughing. i think it is very wrong to stay at home from church; indeed i do, archie. won't you go with me?" "but where shall we go, my good wife?" "wherever you are accustomed to." "i am accustomed to attend that cozy little brick church down by your uncle's, and i thought i had done duty so well there i should be considered religious enough for the rest of my days. but don't look so sad, clara. i will go anywhere to please you. i know of a splendid marble church on the avenue. we will drive there if you like, though i really have no idea of what persuasion it is. i will order the carriage and be ready in a few minutes," and he left the room gaily humming the fragment of an opera air. it was an elegant, stately church. the brilliant light which flowed through the stained windows almost dazzled the sight of the young girl, accustomed only to the plain green shades of the humble village church. the voice of the deep-toned organ rolled through the marble hall and then burst forth into a light, gay air, which, to her unaccustomed ears, sounded strangely in a house of worship. god seemed nearer in the little church at home, which, nestled down among the grassy mounds and moss-grown headstones, seemed always pointing to a life beyond. when the minister arose she marked well his graceful air, the polished words and sentences which flowed so smoothly from his lips as he read them from the page before him. but, alas! "so coldly sweet, so deadly fair, we start, for soul is wanting there." clara felt that her soul had not been fed, as the carriage rolled away from the marble church; but there was much around her to attract the gaze of one who had never before spent a sabbath in the city. her husband was glad to be released from the sound of "the prosy old doctor's essay," and was in quite good humor with himself for his act of self-denial in going to church. so the drive home was quite a pleasant one, though considerably longer than the one to church. when they reached home a note was brought in containing an invitation from a fashionable friend of mr. allen's to take a little drive out to the new park grounds that afternoon. the carriage would call at three o'clock. clara was greatly shocked at such a disregard of the sanctity of god's holy day, and her husband employed a great deal of skilful rhetoric and much more subtle sophistry before she could be brought even to entertain such a project. "you know i went to church to please you this morning. i am sure you will be kind enough to oblige me by accepting my friend's invitation. i know he would be seriously offended if we did not." alas for youth, when the counselors it relies on "counsel to do wickedly"! clara yielded, though with sad misgivings, and dressed herself for the ride. the lady beside her was very courteous and attentive, and the gay conversation turned on various frivolous worldly subjects, till in the pleasant excitement of the drive clara almost forgot the day. when they turned back again mrs. harvey insisted that they should dine with her, and the carriage stopped at their residence. a gay evening was spent, clara being prevailed upon to play some of her choicest music and join her new acquaintance in singing some popular songs, which she did with most exquisite grace and expression. her dark eye grew brighter and her fair cheek flushed softly, as she felt the proud, admiring glance of her husband bent upon her. but underneath all her pleasure was a dull sense of pain and a consciousness of wrong-doing, which was a very serpent trail among her fragrant flowers. when she reached her home again a flood of regretful sorrow overwhelmed her heart, and she wept bitterly. her husband sought most tenderly to soothe her grief, and secretly resolved to undermine the "superstition which caused the dear girl so much unhappiness." "you have done nothing wrong, dear clara, that you should reproach yourself so bitterly. you have only spent a pleasant afternoon and evening with a friend. we must have dined somewhere, and what difference whether at their house or our own! what is life given us for except to make it just as full of happiness as we can, and to make others around us happy! just think how much pleasure your sweet singing gave my friends and me. harvey said it was better than the finest opera he ever heard. religion ought to make people happy. i am afraid yours has not to-day, clara, so i cannot think it is just the right sort for you. now, really, did not the drive to and from church do you more good than the sermon? i am quite sure it did; so i always intend to take a good long road to church in the future." it was some consolation to know that her husband intended to go to church with her in the future; so clara dried her eyes and listened to a little gem of poetry he had selected to read to her that morning. little by little the rock of her faith was worn away, and she was fast learning to look on happiness as the true end of existence instead of _holiness_, "without which no man shall see the lord." and, alas! many whose associations are far less worldly make this mistake, and look mainly for a great deal of joy and exalted happiness in their religious life. because they do not attain it they go mourning all their days, looking with weeping eyes on those whom they regard as more favored of god, because the light of gladness shines upon their pathway. desponding heart! there is no true happiness in religion where that alone is the end you seek. holiness must be the end and aim of your whole course, or your joy will be like the "hope of the hypocrite, but for a moment." "be ye holy, for i am holy," is the divine command. how strange that a truly loving heart could enter upon such a task as that which mr. allen now commenced--the work of loosing a trusting nature from its only safe moorings, leaving it to drift without a compass or a guiding star upon a sea abounding with fearful rocks and angry breakers. but such is the hatred of the natural heart to the humbling doctrine of the cross and salvation alone through him who was crucified upon it. clara was fond of reading, and her husband took care to place in her way certain fascinating writers, then quite popular, whose frequent merry flashes and sarcastic allusions to the "orthodoxy" tended more surely than serious reasoning would have done to make her think lightly of the faith in which she had been trained. the old-fashioned bible was skilfully tortured out of its plainest meaning by these so-called reformers, or utterly ignored where it could not be distorted to suit their views. what their opinions of its inspiration were could never be clearly seen by others, if, indeed, they had ever given such a trifling matter any consideration whatever. instead of the sure foundation which has jesus christ for its corner-stone, and a religion which teaches faith, humility, self-denial, earnest labor for souls, and all lowly virtues, they profess to throw wide open the doors of a "broad church," which should gather in all mankind as brothers, which should teach them the dignity and excellence of humanity, and give every one a free pass at last on the swift train over the celestial railway. in their great harvest-field they claimed the tares to be as valuable as the wheat, and never gave thought to the "harvest day." but, alas! calling the tares wheat will not avail when "the lord of the harvest" comes and the command is given, "bind them in bundles to burn them." but the form in which the fatal error was clothed was fair and pleasing, especially so when her husband would "lend to the charm of the poet the music of his voice." there was one favorite writer who seemed to possess a magic power in painting every shady nook and mossy wayside spring of the human heart. no old, gray rock or fathomless shadow of feeling seemed to escape that observing eye. and there were clear, bold strokes sometimes which showed a strength not often given to a woman's hand. through all her writings ran a thread of light reflected from god's word, though bent out of its own right line by the prism through which it flowed. much was said of the love and tender mercy of god, but the fact that he is also a just god, and will in nowise clear the guilty, was set aside as a hard doctrine. the gay scoffer, the one who despises christ's tender offers of love and pardon, provided he is amiable and pleasant among his friends and associates, must not be given over to a just retribution. god is too loving a father to see such a lovely scorner perish. it is "so incongruous" to think of the one with whom we have had such pleasant converse here being forever lost. the sophistry gradually wrought its work; the more readily, as poor clara, in the whirl of fashion and gaiety, failed to bring it to the test of "the law and the testimony." time rolled on, and clara was becoming more thoughtful and studious. various philosophical works which her husband admired, and which he often read and discussed with her, were becoming favorite volumes. there was something grand in the old philosopher's views of life and its little ills and joys. there was something wonderful in their curious speculations respecting the mysteries of the world beyond. her husband delighted in leading her mind through all their fantastic windings as they groped for the truth so clearly revealed to us. he praised his wife for her appreciation of such intellectual food, and rejoiced that he had been so successful in winning the affection of a truly intellectual woman. her self-love was gratified, and her diligence in diving deeper into his favorite works daily increased. in her own home circle her heart had room to expand its choicest tendrils. a noble boy three summers old was prattling at her feet, and all the demands of fashion could not make her forget a mother's duties. still they were only the duties that pertained to his temporal welfare, for the flame of devotion had smoldered to ashes on the hearthstone of her heart. the rain was dashing against the closed shutters one november night as an anxious group gathered in mrs. allen's chamber. they were standing on either side of a beautiful rosewood crib, whose hangings of azure gauze were closely drawn aside. there lay a little form tossing and restless, his little face and throat seemed scarlet as they rested on the snowy pillow, and his little hand moved restlessly to and fro, as if vainly striving to cool the burning heat. it was the mother's hand that tirelessly bathed the scarlet brow and burning limbs. servants were constantly in waiting, but no hand but her husband's was allowed to take her place. "do you think there is hope, doctor?" was the question she longed to ask, but could not frame it into words. it came at length from her husband's lips. the answer was only a straw to grasp at. "he is in a very critical state, indeed. if i had been at home when he was first taken ill i think the fever would not have reached such a height. but everything almost depends on the first steps. we must do what we can now to make up for lost hours." but all that the best medical skill could do proved useless. the little sufferer lingered through the long night watch, and when the morning dawned seemed once more to know them all. "my mamma," were the first words which fell from his lips, sending a thrill of joy to all their hearts. it was bliss to see the smile of recognition light once more those sweet blue eyes, and the parents grasped each other's hand in silent joy. the old physician alone looked grave and sorrowful. the little light was fast fading out, and this was its dying flicker. "mamma, please take bertie," said the little one, holding up the dimpled hands. very tenderly was he lifted up and laid in her arms. "good night, papa, it's most dark now; bertie is going to sleep." his mother's tearful face bent over him, and as the strange hand of death was laid upon his heart-strings he clasped her closely about the neck, as if she were a refuge from every danger. they took the little one gently from her arms and laid him on his couch again. her husband could not even strive to comfort her. he saw the joy and pride of his existence, the heir of his name and fortune, around whom so many fair hopes clustered, "taken away by a stroke," and his soul seemed crushed within him. he bowed his head upon his hands, and, regardless of other eyes, the proud man groaned, and sobbed, and wept as never in his life he had done before. both were too deeply stricken to utter words of comfort. clara felt her bleeding heart torn from her bosom. yet no tears came to her relief. her brain seemed bursting with the pressure upon it. where was the sustaining power of boasted philosophy in this hour of darkness? ah, when the afflictions of life come home to "the bone and marrow of our own households" they are far different to us from those which concern only our neighbors. it is an easy thing to look on pleasure philosophically, or even the afflictions of others, but when our turn to suffer comes we shall feel our need of a strong staff to lean upon, a sure support that can keep us in perfect peace, even in the furnace. clara had sought to pray when the agony of fear was upon her, but god seemed too far away to listen. "i cannot give him up, my husband!" was the agonized cry of the mother as they stood for the last time by his side before he was to be taken forever from their chamber. "i cannot give him up," was the despairing language of both their hearts. there can be no true resignation where a loving father's hand is not recognized in the affliction; where this poor world is allowed to bound the spirit's vision. but at last the precious dust was borne away to be seen no more by mortal eye till the resurrection morning. [illustration: christ the good shepherd.] time, the great healer, wore away the sharpness of the bereavement, but clara could never again delight in her former pursuits. how like very dust and ashes seemed the food she had been seeking to nourish her soul upon! a softened melancholy rested upon her heart, and she would wander about her house looking at the relics of her lost one. and day by day the roses faded from her cheek, her step grew lighter on the stair, and she rapidly declined, till at length she was startled at the shadowy form and face her mirror revealed to her. her long-neglected bible was once more sought for, and she read with all the desperate eagerness of a drowning man, who catches at every chance of safety. it was her mother's bible, and along the margin were delicate pencil tracings, pointing to many precious passages. how eagerly she read them over! and when she was too weary herself, she gave the book into her husband's hand. still he could give her no advice in her spiritual distress, and looked upon it with compassion as the result of her disease. he gave her the tenderest worldly consolation, but it brought no peace to her anxious soul. was there no one to offer a word of true counsel? from a very humble source came the advice she so much needed. the kind nurse, margaret, whom little bertie had loved next to his parents, was an earnest, humble christian. it was from her lips he had learned to lisp his morning and evening prayer, and her low, gentle voice that told him over and over the sweet story he never tired of hearing--the story of the babe of bethlehem. plainly and simply she pointed clara's mind to the lamb of god as the only saviour, praying hourly in her heart that god would bring home the truth with power to her. at length a little light broke in upon her mind. "it may be he will receive even such a wandering sheep as i," she said, "oh, i will cast myself upon his mercy only, for i can do nothing to make myself better!" the thin hands were folded over the bible, the eyes closed wearily, a faint motion of the lips told of the silent prayer her heart was offering, as gently she breathed her life away. a few months later mr. allen became a wanderer in many lands. do you ever sigh and disquiet your heart, christian pilgrim, because god has not given you wealth and worldly ease? remember the words of one who never gave a needless caution nor spoke an untruthful word--"how hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven!" it is a dangerous step indeed for a young heart to form a life-long union with one who is a stranger to its hopes of heaven. "be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," is a command which may not be lightly broken. where all of this world, and very probably the world to come, are at stake, the cost should be well counted. "what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" even the most devoted affection the world can bestow will be no substitute for god's loving favor. "what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" "jesus, my all in all thou art, my rest in toil, my ease in pain; the healing of my broken heart, in strife my peace, in loss my gain; my smile beneath the tyrant's frown, in shame my glory and my crown." live within your means. "this is pleasant!" exclaimed a young husband, taking his seat in the rocking-chair as the supper things were removed. the fire glowing in the grate, revealed a pretty and neatly furnished sitting-room, with all the appliances of comfort. the fatiguing business of the day was over, and he sat enjoying what he had all day been anticipating, the delights of his own fireside. his pretty wife, esther, took her work and sat down by the table. "it is pleasant to have a home of one's own," he again said, taking a satisfactory survey of his little quarters. the cold rain beat against the windows, and he thought he felt really grateful for all his present comforts. "now if we only had a piano!" exclaimed the wife. "give me the music of your own sweet voice before all the pianos in creation," he observed, complimentarily; but he felt a certain secret disappointment that his wife's thankfulness did not happily chime with his own. "well, we want one for our friends," said esther. "let our friends come to see _us_, and not to hear a piano," exclaimed the husband. "but, george, everybody has a piano now-a-days--we don't go anywhere without seeing a piano," persisted the wife. "and yet i don't know what we want one for--you will have no time to play on one, and i don't want to hear it." "why, they are so fashionable--i think our room looks nearly naked without one." "i think it looks just right." "i think it looks very naked--we want a piano shockingly," protested esther emphatically. the husband rocked violently. "your lamp smokes, my dear," said he, after a long pause. "when are you going to get a camphene lamp? i have told you a dozen times how much we need one," said esther pettishly. "these are very pretty lamps--i never can see by a camphene lamp," said her husband. "these lamps are the prettiest of the kind i ever saw." "but, george, i do not think our room is complete without a camphene lamp," said esther sharply. "they are so fashionable! why, the morgans, and millers, and many others i might mention, all have them; i am sure we ought to." "we ought not to take pattern by other people's expenses, and i don't see any reason in that." the husband moved uneasily in his chair. "we want to live as well as others," said esther. "we want to live within our means, esther," exclaimed george. "i am sure we can afford it as well as the morgans, and millers, and thorns; we do not wish to appear mean." george's cheek crimsoned. "mean! i am not mean!" he cried angrily. "then we do not wish to appear so," said the wife. "to complete this room, and make it look like other people's we want a piano and camphene lamps." "we want--we want!" muttered the husband, "there's no satisfying woman's wants, do what you may," and he abruptly left the room. how many husbands are in a similar dilemma? how many houses and husbands are rendered uncomfortable by the constant dissatisfaction of a wife with present comforts and present provisions! how many bright prospects for business have ended in bankruptcy and ruin in order to satisfy this secret hankering after fashionable superfluities! could the real cause of many failures be known, it would be found to result from useless expenditures at home--expenses to answer the demands of fashion and "what will people think?" "my wife has made my fortune," said a gentleman of great possessions, "by her thrift, and prudence, and cheerfulness, when i was just beginning." "and mine has lost my fortune," answered his companion, "by useless extravagance and repining when i was doing well." what a world does this open to the influence which a wife possesses over the future prosperity of her family! let the wife know her influence, and try to use it wisely and well. be satisfied to commence on a small scale. it is too common for young housekeepers to begin where their mothers ended. buy all that is necessary to work skilfully with; adorn your house with all that will render it comfortable. do not look at richer homes, and covet their costly furniture. if secret dissatisfaction is ready to spring up, go a step further and visit the homes of the suffering poor; behold dark, cheerless apartments, insufficient clothing, and absence of all the comforts and refinements of social life, and then turn to your own with a joyful spirit. you will then be prepared to meet your husband with a grateful heart, and be ready to appreciate the toil of self-denial which he has endured in the business world to surround you with the delights of home; and you will be ready to co-operate cheerfully with him in so arranging your expenses, that his mind will not be constantly harassed with fears lest his family expenses may encroach upon public payments. be independent; a young housekeeper never needed greater moral courage than she does now to resist the arrogance of fashion. do not let the a.'s and b.'s decide what you must have, neither let them hold the strings of your purse. you know best what you can and ought to afford. it matters but little what people think, provided you are true to yourself and family. the dark first. not first the glad and then the sorrowful-- but first the sorrowful, and then the glad; tears for a day--for earth of tears is full: then we forget that we were ever sad. not first the bright, and after that the dark-- but first the dark, and after that the bright; first the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc: first the dark grave, and then resurrection light. --_horatius bonar_. out of the wrong pocket mr. taggard frowned as he observed the pile of bills by his plate, placed there by his prudent, economical wife, not without an anxious flutter at the heart, in anticipation of the scene that invariably followed. he actually groaned as he read the sum total. "there must be some mistake, mary" he said, pushing back his plate, with a desperate air: "it is _absolutely impossible_ for us to have used all these things in one month!" "the bills are correct, john," was the meek response; "i looked them over myself." "then one thing is certain, provisions are either wasted, thrown out the window, as it were, or stolen. jane has relatives in the place, and i haven't the least doubt but that she supports them out of what she steals." mrs. taggard's temper was evidently rising; there were two round crimson spots upon her cheeks, and she tapped her foot nervously upon the floor. "i am neither wasteful, nor extravagant, john. and as for jane, i know her to be perfectly honest and trustworthy." "it is evident that there is a leak somewhere, mary; and it is your duty as a wife, to find out where it is, and stop it. our bills are perfectly enormous; and if this sort of thing goes on much longer, i shall be a bankrupt." mrs. taggard remained silent, trying to choke down the indignant feelings that struggled for utterance. "you will have to order some coal," she said, at last; "we have hardly sufficient for the day." "is there anything more, mrs. taggard?" inquired her husband; ironically. "yes; neither i nor the children are decently or comfortably clothed; all need an entire new outfit." "go on, madam. as i am a man of unlimited means, if you have any other wants, i hope you won't be at all backward about mentioning them." "i don't intend to be," was the quiet, but spirited reply. "i wouldn't do for another what i do for you, for double my board and clothing. both the parlor and sitting-room need refurnishing; everything looks so faded and shabby, that i am ashamed to have any one call. and the stairs need recarpeting, the blinds and gate need repairing, and the fence needs painting." "that can't be all, mrs. taggard. are you sure that there isn't something else?" "i don't think of anything else just now, mr. taggard; though if there should be a few dollars over and above what these will cost, they won't come amiss. i should like to have a little change in my pocket, if only for the novelty of the thing. you needn't fear its being wasted." mr. taggard was evidently not a little astonished at this sudden outbreak in his usually quiet and patient wife, but who, like most women of that stamp, had considerable spirit when it was aroused. "now that you are through, mrs. taggard, perhaps you will let me say a word. here is all the money i can spare you this month; so you can make the most of it." laying a roll of bills on the table, mr. taggard walked to the door; remarking, just before he closed it, that he should leave town on the next train, to be absent about a week. the reverie into which mrs. taggard fell, as she listened to the sound of his retreating steps, was far from being a pleasant one. aside from her natural vexation, she felt grieved and saddened by the change that had come over her once kind, indulgent husband. he seemed to be entirely filled with the greed of gain, the desire to amass money--not for the sake of the good that it might enable him to enjoy, or confer, but for the mere pleasure of hoarding it. and this miserly feeling grew upon him daily, until he seemed to grudge his family the common comforts of life. and yet mrs. taggard knew that he was not only in receipt of a comfortable income from his business, but had laid by a surplus, yearly, ever since their marriage. she had taxed her ingenuity to save in every possible way, but when the monthly bills were presented the same scene was enacted, only it grew worse and worse. and this penuriousness extended to himself. he grudged himself, as well as wife and children, clothing suitable to his means and station, and went about looking so rusty and shabby that mrs. taggard often felt ashamed of him, inwardly wondering if he could be the same man who had wooed and won her. with a heavy sigh mrs. taggard took up the roll of bills upon the table, hoping to find enough to pay what was already due--she did not look for more. an ejaculation of astonishment burst from her lips as she unrolled the paper in which it was folded. it contained $ in bills, and a check for $ more. with a look of quiet determination in her eyes, mrs. taggard arose to her feet. "the family should now have some of the comforts to which they were entitled, if they never did again." first, she settled every bill; a heavy weight being lifted from her heart as she did so; besides getting a fresh supply of fuel and other comforts. her next move was to order new furniture for the sitting-room and parlor, have the hall recarpeted and papered, the broken door-step mended, and the fence and blinds repaired and painted. she then took the children out, and got them new garments from hats to shoes. she bought herself three new dresses; a neat gingham for morning wear, a delaine for afternoons, and something nicer for best. and before going home she took the children into a toy-shop; delighting the boy with the skates he had so often asked for, and giving the girl the chief wish of her heart, a doll and doll's wardrobe--not forgetting some blocks for the baby. for, like a wise, as well as kind, mother, mrs. taggard desired to make their childhood a happy one; something to look back upon with pleasure through their whole life. neither was john forgotten; by the aid of some old garments, for a pattern, she got him an entire new suit, together with stuff for dressing-gown and slippers. the day on which mrs. taggard expected her husband's return was a very busy one; but at last the carpets were down, the paper hung, and everything in the best of order. he was expected on the five o'clock train, and mrs. taggard set the children, attired in their pretty new dresses, at the window to watch for papa, while she went below to assist jane in preparing something extra for supper. she had just returned when mr. taggard was seen approaching the house. it looked so different from what it did when he left, that he stared at it in amazement, and would have hesitated about entering, had it not been for the name on the newly burnished door-plate. but he was still more astonished when he entered. "am i in my own house, or somebody else's?" he ejaculated, as he looked around the bright and pleasant room. "it is the new furniture i have been buying," said his wife, smiling. "how do you like it?" "have you been running me in debt, mary?" "not in the least, john, it was all bought with the money you so generously left me when you went away." mr. taggard clapped his hand into one of his pockets. "my goodness!" he exclaimed, in an agitated tone and manner, "i gave it to you out of the wrong pocket!" mrs. taggard did not look at all astonished or disturbed at this announcement; on the contrary, her countenance wore a very smiling and tranquil aspect. "you don't mean to say that you've spent it?" inquired mr. taggard, desperately. "why, what else should i do with it, john? you told me to make the most of it; and i rather think i have." "i am a ruined man!" groaned mr. taggard. "not a bit of it, my dear husband," said his wife, cheerfully, "you wouldn't be ruined if you had given me twice that amount. besides, i have saved enough for our housekeeping expenses, for three months, at least. i think you had better give me an allowance for that purpose in future; it will save us both much annoyance." the children, who had been led to consider what their mother had bought them as "presents from papa," now crowded eagerly around him. mr. taggard loved his children, and it would be difficult for any one having the kind and tender heart that he really possessed, to turn away from the innocent smiles and caresses that were lavished upon him. it was a smiling group that gathered round the cheerful supper-table. and as mr. taggard glanced from the gleeful children to the smiling face of his wife, who certainly looked ten years younger, attired in her new and becoming dress, he came to the conclusion that though it might cost something to make his family comfortable, on the whole, it paid. we do not mean to say that mr. taggard was entirely cured; a passion so strong is not so easily eradicated. but when the old miserly feeling came over him, and he began to dole out grudgingly the means with which to make his family comfortable, his wife would pleasantly say: "you are taking it out of the wrong pocket, john!"--words which seemed to have a magical effect upon both heart and purse-strings. "let us not deprive ourselves of the comforts of life," she would often say, "nor grudge our children the innocent pleasures natural to youth, for the purpose of laying up for them the wealth that is, too often, a curse rather than a blessing." an infinite giver. think you, when the stars are glinting, or the moonlight's shimmering gleam paints the water's rippled surface with a coat of silvered sheen-- think you then that god, the painter, shows his masterpiece divine? that he will not hang another of such beauty on the line? think you, when the air is trembling with the birds' exultant song, and the blossoms, mutely fragrant, strive the anthem to prolong-- think you then that their creator, at the signal of his word, fills the earth with such sweet music as shall ne'er again be heard? he will never send a blessing but have greater ones in store, and each oft recurring kindness is an earnest of still more. if the earth seems full of glory as his purposes unfold, there is still a better country-- and the half has not been told! "my house" and "our house." these houses are opposite each other in a beautiful suburban town. "my house" is large and handsome, with a cupola, and has a rich lawn before it. it is surrounded by a broad piazza, and graced and shaded by ancestral elms and huge button-wood trees. its barns and stables are large and well-filled; its orchards are gorgeous with fruit, in the season, and the fields around it seem alive with golden grain that waves in the wind. everything about the place tells of long-continued prosperity. the rich old squire who lives there rides about with fine horses, and talks a great deal to his neighbors about "my house, my orchards, and my horses." his wife is evidently the lady of the region. she was a model housekeeper and dairywoman in the days when they worked the farm, and is now an oracle on many questions. she, too, talks of "my house, my horses, and my estate." these persons each brought property to the other, and the two interests have, unfortunately, never flowed together and formed one estate as they should have done; so there are always two separate interests in the house. of course the property belongs, legally, to both; but as each has a snug little fund laid away, the question is always to be settled, if repairs are to be made, or horses or furniture bought, who shall pay for it. it seems but proper to the husband that carpets, and sofas, etc., shall be bought by his wife; also the cows, as the lady is at the head of the house. but she says, "you walk on the carpets, sit on the sofas, and eat the cream and butter just as much as i do, and i see no reason why you should not, at least, help to pay for them." such discussions often occur, but, on the whole, each upholds the interest of the other against outsiders, and gets along without open rupture. they ride about in better dress than their neighbors, they receive and return visits, and are called the leading family in town. but "my house," as some have named the great square mansion, is nobody's house but its owners'. no guest who can not return hospitality in equal style is asked to tarry for a night there. all ministers sojourning in the place are directed by them to the humble parsonage for entertainment. every weary, homeless wanderer is pointed to the distant almshouse; and a neighbor's horse or cow which has strayed from its own enclosure, is at once put into the pound by the squire's man. if an appeal is made for any benevolent object the squire says, "go to my house and ask my wife to give you something." she, in turn, points the applicant to the field or the orchard, and says, "go down there and ask my husband to give you something." so one puts it on the other, and nothing is given; and neither the town nor the world is the better for their living. this is the way things are done at "my house." across the street, under the shadow of two wide-spreading elms, stands a very modest cottage nestled in vines and flowers, with curtains drawn up to let in the light of god's blessed sun, and an ever-open door with a great chair in full view, holding out its time-worn arms, as if to invite and welcome in the weary passer-by. the birds are always remembered here in their times of scarcity, and so in token of their gratitude, they gather in the trees and carol out sweet and merry songs by way of paying their bills. god's peace, as well as his plenty, rests on this place, and while its owners call it, in their hearts, "god's house," they speak of it to others, always as "our house." twenty-five years ago a sturdy, brave-hearted young mechanic bought this one acre of land, and with his own hands dug and walled a cellar, at times when he had no work to do for others. when he had earned an additional hundred or two dollars he bought lumber and began to build a house. people asked him what he was going to do with it, and he replied that if he should live to finish it, he was going to live in it. well, in two years the house was finished, to the last nail and hook. then he went away, as it was thought, for a wife. in a week he returned, bringing with him some neat household furniture, and three persons instead of only one. he did bring a wife--a bright-eyed, merry-hearted young girl--and also two aged women, "our mothers," as he called them. the first night in the house they dedicated their humble home--"our house" to god, and in the name of the lord they set up their banner, praying that ever after this his banner over them might be love. many a family moves into a new home and asks god to come in and prosper them, and take up his abode there; but they do nothing to draw him thither. they begin for self, and go on for self; and sometimes god leaves them to themselves. but the young owners of "our house"--the children of "our mothers"--made their little home his home and the home of his poor and feeble ones. "our mothers" now laid down the weapons of toil over which they had grown gray, and came out of the vale of honest poverty into the sunshine of plenty. their hearts grew warm in this gift of double love. they renewed their youth. in their first days at their children's home, one of "our mothers" spoke of "henry's new house," when he checked her, saying, "never call this my house again. i built it for god and for all of you, and i want it always called 'our house.' there is yet one thing i want done here before i shall feel that i have made my thank-offering to god for the health and strength and the work which have enabled me to build and pay for this house. i promised then that no stranger or wanderer should ever go hungry or weary from this door. you have made sure of a neat and sunny room for our friends. now i want a bed, a chair, and a table put in the shed-chamber for such strangers as we cannot ask into the house. i want also to fill the little store-closet under the back stairway with provisions to give the needy. they will then not be our own; and if at any time we should be short of money, we will not be tempted to say, 'i have nothing to give.' i want to live for more than self, and i know you all share the feeling. i want to feel that god is here, and to live as if we saw him and were all under his actual guidance and care, and to realize that he sees and approves our way in life." thus was "our house" opened, and thus was it kept--a home sanctified to humanity and to god. the years rolled away, not without changes, but peace and plenty still reign in the modest home whose owners are looked up to by all the town's people--rich as well as poor--as friends and benefactors; for all men alike need human sympathy and comfort. the young carpenter of twenty-five years ago, is now a prosperous builder in the great city near his home. he could afford to erect and occupy a house worth four times what the cottage cost. but he loves the place, and cannot tear himself from it. he has added more than one l to it, and he has refurnished it, and brought into it many articles of taste and luxury. when asked why he does not build a house more in accordance with his means, he replies:-- "no house could be built which would be like 'our house.' i can never forget the night we and our mothers dedicated it to god in prayer and simple trust; and ever since that night i have felt as if we were dwelling in the secret of his tabernacle, under the shadow of the almighty. we might have a larger and more fashionable house, but it would bring a weight of care on its mistress, and steal the time she has made sacred to others. no other house could have the memories this one has; no other house be hallowed as this house has been by the prayers of the holy and the blessings of the poor." and so the family still live on and are happy in "our house." still the pastor's weary wife is relieved of church company, for, from force of habit, all ministers and others on errands of good, draw up their horses before the well-filled stable, and ring, for themselves, at this open door. still the poor are fed from that store-closet under the back stairway; still the wanderer--though he be a wanderer in a double sense--rests his weary head in that shed-chamber. the squire wonders at the builder, because he lives in such a modest way compared with his means, and says, "if i were he, i'd be ashamed of that cottage which was all well enough when he was a young journeyman." the builder wonders what the squire does with all that great house, and why, when half a dozen rooms are empty there, he doesn't allow himself the pleasure of company, and of sheltering strangers and getting the blessing they bring. the squire's wife peeps through her fine curtains, and says, "i wonder that pretty and intelligent woman hasn't more taste. she might live like a lady if she pleased, and dress as i do; but she pokes on just as she began, and dresses no better than the minister's wife, and has a rabble of poor, forlorn creatures whom i wouldn't let into my house, nor into my wood-shed, running after her for food and clothing, and nobody knows what." so you see, "my house" is literally "my house," and "our house" is god's house. a mountain prayer meeting "will you go to meeting with me this afternoon, mabel? come; this is your last day here; do go once before you leave the white mountains." "what do you do in 'meeting'?" asked the gay, beautiful, "high church" new york belle, with just a shade of contemptuous inflection in her voice. "well,--there will be no sermon; there never is in the afternoon. the good minister sits in the aisle, in front of the pulpit, and invites any one he likes to make a prayer. any other one, who feels the need of it, may request that he or she be mentioned personally in the petition; and those who wish it may relate their experience." "how very funny! all the old women 'speakin' in meetin',' and scaring themselves dreadfully. i'll go. i dare say i shall have a good laugh, if i don't fall asleep." so we walked through the long, hilly street of bethlehem, in the pleasant hour before sunset, in the sweet, warm, hazy air of early autumn. the glory of the lord shone round about us; for all the mountains were burnished, splendid, gorgeous, in purple and crimson and gold. mabel's deep gray eyes grew large and luminous as her artist-soul drank in the ineffable beauty. the building was so crowded with the villagers and many visitors that it was with difficulty we obtained seats, apart from each other. mabel found a place next to a young, sweet-faced country woman, and looked, with her flower-like face and french costume, like some rare exotic by the side of a humble mountain daisy. the minister opened the services with a few fervent, simple words, and then said, "brother----, will you lead in prayer?" a plain old country farmer knelt in the aisle before us. his prayer--sincere, and, i doubt not, as acceptable, because sincere, as if it had been offered in polished language--made mabel shake with laughter. he rose, and there was utter silence for a moment. then a high, sweet woman's voice, far in front of us, sang out, clear as a bell,-- "sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer! that calls me from a world of care, and bids me at my father's throne, make all my wants and wishes known." the congregation joined in; only one verse was sung, and again the strange, solemn silence fell upon us. it was broken by the sudden rising of a lank, awkward boy, who uttered a few words in a frightened nasal whine. this time mabel was convulsed with laughter; but the sweet singer, who saw in this utterance only the contrite soul of the speaker, burst forth triumphantly with-- "oh, gift of gifts! oh, grace of faith! my god, how can it be that thou, who hast discerning love, shouldst give that gift to me?" only one verse, as before. then the pure notes, high above all the other voices, died away, and a strange-looking woman arose. "i haven't any gift of language," said she, "but i want to give in my testimony. i've always been a wicked woman; i've always gone against my conscience. i've made my folks at home miserable for many a long year; and that's the reason god poured trouble after trouble down on me, till i was about to take my own life, when some one--it must have been one of god's angels--went singing through the woods. shall i ever forget the words?-- "'with tearful eyes i look around; life seems a dark and stormy sea;--'" she stopped, her voice breaking into a hoarse sob, when the other sweet voice immediately went on-- "yet, mid the gloom, i hear a sound,-- a heavenly whisper,--'come to me.' "oh, voice of mercy! voice of love! in conflict, grief, and agony, support me, cheer me from above! and gently whisper--'come to me.'" i looked at mabel. she was not laughing. a strange, awed expression rested upon her features; her head was bowed down as the sweet-faced woman at her side rose and, turning to the last speaker, said, in a low, gentle voice,-- "my sister, we all thank our heavenly father that he put his strong arm of protection about you while it was yet time; and since you have joined with us in profession of your faith, there has been no one more earnest in those good works without which faith is nothing." then reverently kneeling, she prayed that god would strengthen her dear sister, and give them all love and charity, one for another, and his peace, which passeth all understanding. out rang the sweet voice,-- "haste thee on, from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer! heaven's eternal day's before thee, god's own hand shall guide thee there." mabel was now silently crying, and big tears were blinding my eyes, when a grand old man rose from his seat. bent and feeble now, i could see that he had once been tall and stately, looking as the puritan fathers must have looked when they first stepped upon "the stern and rock-bound coast" at plymouth. fine, clean-cut features, and eyes still blue and piercing remained, but his voice trembled painfully as he said,-- "i am ninety-four years old, and most of those i love have gone to the graveyard before me; i have lived all these years in bethlehem, and, boy and man, have tried to serve the lord: and i owe my blessed hope in my saviour to the teaching and example of my good and pious mother." then, with aged, trembling hands uplifted, he prayed that all the children present might be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the lord. near us was a handsome, well-dressed man, past middle age, who had listened with absorbed attention to all that had been said, and who now seemed strangely agitated. in a moment he arose, and then he spoke. "i presume that no one here remembers a poor boy who nearly fifty years ago left this place to seek his fortune. fatherless, motherless, with no claim upon any one here, i wandered away with a heavy heart to earn my bread. many a time have i been exhausted, discouraged, almost hopeless; but my mother had taught me to pray--her dying gift to me was her own bible. it has gone round the world with me, and god has never forsaken me. i have long been a rich man, and i have come once more to these grand hills--my childhood's home--to testify my gratitude to my maker for all his goodness. i never intended to speak as i am now doing; but after what i have heard and witnessed, i should be most ungrateful if i did not give my testimony and belief in the abounding love and mercy of god. o friends! take me back! let me be one with you in this most sweet and touching service, and when i leave you, pray that i may never be ungrateful for the earthly blessings he has heaped upon me, and for the far more priceless gift of his son, jesus christ." every one had listened to the stranger in deep silence. every heart had thrilled responsive to his words. it seemed as if the very breath of heaven had entered into the little church, cleansing and purifying each soul present, and filling it with inexpressible devotion, when, like a soft, trembling wave, the pure young voice came floating down the aisles, and we heard the solemn acknowledgment,-- "a charge to keep i have, a god to glorify; a precious, blood-bought soul to save, and fit it for the sky." she sang alone; a feeling too deep for utterance had prevented the rest from joining in, and many heads were bent in silent prayer and thanksgiving. but oh! what did i see? pale as death, her eyes dilated, her whole frame quivering like an aspen, mabel arose and essayed to speak. the muscles of her mouth refused to obey her will, but with a painful effort she faltered in low, broken tones, "pray for me," and sank down upon her knees. it was the voice of god that spoke in those three little words, "_pray for me_," uttered so low, yet distinctly heard in every part of the church. joyful tears were streaming down many women's faces, as for the first time the singer's voice trembled, broke, and at last sobbed through the humble entreaty,-- "just as i am--without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bid'st me come to thee, o lamb of god, i come." as she finished, a young minister who was living in the same house with us, and whose life had been nearly sacrificed in missionary labors, bowed in prayer. the radiance of heaven was upon his face, and god spoke through him to the awakened soul of mabel in a way i had never heard before. the words poured out in an inspired flood, carrying her soul resistless upon its mighty waves to repentance, faith, prayer, praise, love, joy, peace, and at last heaven! with a solemn benediction the services were ended; and when we had come out, it seemed as if the very heavens were rejoicing over the tidings which had gone up of the soul that day redeemed. all that was gorgeous and beautiful in color had taken possession of the sky. the clouds, like great gold and crimson banners, were moving high over our heads, furling and unfurling, as if carried by exultant angels, marching and singing their triumphant allelujahs. and mabel, still white as an easter lily, but with her deep gray eyes full of a new happiness, a steadfast resolution to live henceforth for christ, walked by my side, watching the great glory of the heavens, with her arm lovingly entwined in mine. we did not speak; we had no need, for our thoughts were in perfect accord. i had witnessed the wonderful mystery of her instantaneous "change of heart;" i knew it was well with her. beautiful, gay, fashionable, the pet of society, i knew her also to be a staunch upholder of all that was noble, good, and pure, and i felt a thorough conviction that she had indeed given herself up body and soul to him who had chosen to send his holy spirit into her heart, as she was going out of the little village which bore the blessed name of _bethlehem_. however it be, it seems to me, 'tis only noble to be good. kind hearts are more than coronets, and simple faith than norman blood. only a husk. tom darcy, yet a young man, had grown to be a very hard one. although naturally kind-hearted, active, and intelligent, he lacked strength of will to resist temptation, and had therefore fallen a victim to intemperance. he had lost his place as foreman of the great machine-shop, and what money he now earned came from odd jobs of tinkering which he was able to do here and there at private houses; for tom was a genius as well as a mechanic, and when his head was steady enough, he could mend a clock or clean a watch as well as he could set up and regulate a steam-engine, and this latter he could do better than any other man ever employed by the scott falls manufacturing company. one day tom was engaged to mend a broken mowing-machine and reaper, for which he received five dollars; and on the following morning he started for his old haunt, the village tavern. he knew that his wife sadly needed the money, and that his two little children were absolutely suffering for want of clothing, and that morning he held a debate with the better part of himself, but the better part had become weak, and the demon of appetite carried the day. so away to the tavern tom went, where, for two or three hours, he felt the exhilarating effects of the alcoholic draught, and fancied himself happy, as he could sing and laugh; but, as usual, stupefaction followed, and the man died out. he drank while he could stand, and then lay down in a corner, where his companions left him. it was almost midnight, when the landlord's wife came to the barroom to see what kept her husband up, and she quickly saw tom. "peter," said she, not in a pleasant mood, "why don't you send that miserable tom darcy home? he's been hanging around here long enough." tom's stupefaction was not sound sleep. the dead coma had left his brain, and the calling of his name stung his senses to keen attention. he had an insane love of rum, but he did not love the landlord. in other years, peter tindar and he had wooed the same maiden,--ellen goss,--and he had won her, leaving peter to take up with the sharp-tempered damsel who had brought him the tavern, and tom knew that lately the tapster had gloated over the misery of the woman who had once discarded him. "why don't you send him home?" demanded mrs. tindar, with an impatient stamp of her foot. "hush, betsey, he's got money. let him be, and he'll be sure to spend it before he goes home. i'll have the kernel of that nut, and his wife may have the husk." betsey turned away, and shortly afterward tom darcy lifted himself up on his elbow. "ah, tom, are you awake?" "yes." "then rouse up and have a warm glass." tom got upon his feet and steadied himself. "no; i won't drink any more to-night." "it won't hurt you, tom--just one glass." "i know it won't!" said tom, buttoning up his coat by the solitary button left. "i know it won't!" and with this he went out into the chill air of midnight. when he got away from the shadow of the tavern, he stopped and looked up at the stars, and then he looked down upon the earth. "aye," he muttered, grinding his heel in the gravel, "peter tindar is taking the kernel, and leaving poor ellen the worthless husk,--a husk more than worthless! and i am helping him do it. i am robbing my wife of joy, robbing my dear children of honor and comfort, and robbing myself of love and life--just that peter tindar may have the kernel, and ellen the husk! we'll see!" it was a revelation to the man. the tavern-keeper's speech, not meant for his ears, had come on his senses as fell the voice of the risen one upon saul of tarsus. "we'll see!" he said, setting his foot firmly upon the ground; and then he wended his way homeward. on the following morning he said to his wife, "ellen, have you any coffee in the house?" "yes, tom." she did not tell him that her sister had given it to her. she was glad to hear him ask for coffee, instead of the old, old cider. "i wish you would make me a cup, good and strong." there was really music in tom's voice, and the wife set about her work with a strange flutter at her heart. tom drank two cups of the strong fragrant coffee, and then went out, with a resolute step, and walked straight to the great manufactory, where he found mr. scott in his office. "mr. scott, i want to learn my trade over again." "eh, tom, what do you mean?" "i mean that it's tom darcy come back to the old place, asking forgiveness for the past, and hoping to do better in the future." "tom," cried the manufacturer, starting forward and grasping his hand, "are you in earnest? is it really the old tom?" "it's what's left of him, sir, and we'll have him whole and strong very soon, if you'll only set him at work." "work! aye, tom, and bless you, too. there is an engine to be set up and tested to-day. come with me." tom's hands were weak and unsteady, but his brain was clear, and under his skilful supervision the engine was set up and tested; but it was not perfect. there were mistakes which he had to correct, and it was late in the evening when the work was complete. "how is it now, tom?" asked mr. scott, as he came into the testing-house and found the workmen ready to depart. "she's all right, sir. you may give your warrant without fear." "god bless you, tom! you don't know how like music the old voice sounds. will you take your old place again?" "wait till monday morning, sir. if you will offer it to me then, i will take it." at the little cottage, ellen darcy's fluttering heart was sinking. that morning, after tom had gone, she found a dollar bill in the coffee-cup. she knew that he left it for her. she had been out and bought tea and sugar, and flour and butter, and a bit of tender steak; and all day long a ray of light had been dancing and glimmering before her,--a ray from the blessed light of other days. with prayer and hope she had set out the tea-table, and waited; but the sun went down and no tom came. eight o'clock--and almost nine. hark! the old step! quick, strong, eager for home. yes, it was tom, with the old grime upon his hands, and the odor of oil upon his garments. "i have kept you waiting, nellie." "tom!" "i did not mean to, but the work hung on." "tom! tom! you have been to the old shop!" "yes, and i'm bound to have the old place, and----" "oh, tom!" and she threw her arms around his neck, and pressed a kiss upon his lips. "nellie, darling, wait a little, and you shall have the old tom back again." "oh, i have him now! god bless you, my husband!" it was a banquet, that supper--with the bright angels of peace, and love, and joy, spreading their wings over the board. on the following monday morning, tom resumed his place at the head of the great machine-shop, and those who thoroughly knew him had no fear of his going back into the slough of joylessness. a few days later, tom met peter tindar on the street. "eh, tom, old boy, what's up?" "i am up, right side up." "yes, i see; but i hope you haven't forsaken us, tom." "i have forsaken only the evil you have in store, peter. the fact is, i concluded that my wife and little ones had fed on husks long enough, and if there was a good kernel left in my heart, or in my manhood, they should have it." "ah, you heard what i said to my wife that night." "yes, peter; and i shall be grateful to you for it as long as i live. my remembrance of you will always be relieved by that tinge of warmth and brightness." song of the rye. i was made to be eaten, and not to be drank; to be thrashed in a barn, not soaked in a tank. i come as a blessing when put through a mill, as a blight and a curse when run through a still. make me up into loaves, and the children are fed; but if into drink, i'll starve them instead. in bread i'm a servant, the eater shall rule; in drink i am master, the drinker a fool. ruined at home. "it is at home that the ruin of a soul begins." "at home!" we hear the response in tones of pained surprise or indignant denial from many voices. "it is a hard saying and cruel." "it may hurt like a blow many sad hearts; but if it be true--what then?" "it is not true! i can point to you a dozen cases within my own range of observation to disprove the assertion--to young men who have gone astray in spite of the careful training and good example of religious homes--in spite of all the best of mothers and the wisest of fathers could do." yes, we hear such things said every day; but feel certain there is an error somewhere, a defect in your observation. were you in the homes of these young men from the beginning? did you observe the personal bearing of their parents toward them--know their walk and conversation? if nay, then you are not competent, with your instances, to disprove our assertion. a small error at the beginning of a series of calculations in applied mechanics may lead to a great disaster; the slightest variation from a right line at the beginning will throw a projectile hundreds of yards away from its object. it is in the little things at home, the almost unnoticed departures from order and good government, the neglects arising from parental self-indulgence, the weakness of love that fails to nip a fault in the bud; and many other things that might be instanced, which turn the young feet into ways of life that, as the years go by, lead farther and farther from safety and happiness. the bible, experience, and reason all declare that the future of a child depends upon his early training. if this is bad, the chances are nearly all against him. "but," we hear it said, "children raised under the worst influences often make good and useful men." the cases are exceptional, and stand out in strong contrast to the general rule. and so we go back to what was declared in the beginning, that the ruin of a soul begins at home. how many instances crowd upon the memory! let us take a few at this time for their lesson and their warning. not long ago, in one of our principal cities, an almost broken-hearted mother parted from her son in the courthouse, and was taken fainting to her home, while he was thrust into a van and conveyed to prison. his crime was stealing. society held up its hands in pity and amazement, for the young man's father and mother were highly respectable people, and good church members, as the saying is. the father's business reputation stood high. people said of him: "his word is as good as his bond." and yet his son was a condemned thief. he had stolen from his employer. did the ruin in this case begin at home?--yes! it was at home the son learned to be dishonest, and he learned it from his mother! let us rehearse a few of the lessons, in precept and example, that were given to the boy. we begin when he was just five years of age. the boy, karl, was standing near his mother, mrs. omdorff, one day, when he heard her say to his aunt: "barker has cheated himself. here are four yards of ribbon, instead of three. i asked for three yards, and paid for only three; but this measures full four yards." the boy listened and waited for what was to come next. he loved his mother, and trusted in her. "what are you going to do about it?" inquired the aunt. "keep it, of course," answered mrs. omdorff; "barker will never be the wiser. he makes enough out of us, dear knows." and she rolled the ribbon about her fingers. karl was a little surprised. it did not seem like his mother, nor in accordance with what she had often said to him about truth and honesty, but he had faith in her, and was sure that she could do nothing wrong. his aunt ruth, of whom he was very fond, and who had great influence over him, was a weak woman in some respects, and much more inclined to take the current of other's opinions than to give herself the trouble of opposition. her innate sense of honor was a little disturbed at her sister's views of the case; but she failed to say the right words which were in her thoughts, and which, if spoken, might have helped the boy to see what was just and right. a day or two afterward, karl heard his mother say: "i saved a car ticket this morning." "how?" inquired her sister. "the conductor forgot to ask for it." "why didn't you give it to him, mamma?" asked karl. "it was his business to look after his passengers," replied mrs. omdorff, who felt rather uncomfortable at this question from her little boy. "it will teach him a lesson." karl thought a moment, and then said: "but he won't know anything about it." "oh, you're too sharp!" exclaimed his mother, with a laugh. "i wasn't talking to you, anyhow." "little pitchers have big ears," said aunt ruth, echoing her sister's laugh. and so the matter was pushed aside, neither mother nor aunt imagining that the bright and beautiful boy they both loved so tenderly had received a lesson in dishonesty not soon to be forgotten. "i do believe," said mrs. omdorff, not long afterward, as she sat counting over some money, "that poole has given me the wrong change." karl was in the room and heard her remark. "let me see," she added, going over the money again. "two and a half, three, four and three-quarters. it's a fact; i gave him a ten-dollar bill, and here are four and three-quarters change." "what did the goods amount to?" asked her sister. "there were eleven yards of muslin at eighteen; that's a dollar and ninety-eight cents. two yards of silk at a dollar and a half, and an eighth of a yard of velvet one dollar--making just five dollars and ninety-eight cents. if it had come to six dollars, my right change would have been four; but he has given me four and three-quarters." then, in a tone of satisfaction, she added: "i'm that much richer, you see, ruth." her sister smiled, but did not utter the disapproval that was in her heart. karl listened and took all in. a little while afterward mrs. omdorff got up and rang the bell, saying, as she did so, with a short gurgling laugh, that seemed ashamed of itself: "i guess we'll have a little ice-cream--at poole's expense." aunt ruth shook her finger, and said feebly: "oh, that's too bad!" but karl was not able to see whether she approved or disapproved. the ice-cream was sent for, and enjoyed by the child. while the sweet taste was yet on his tongue, he heard his mother say: "i'm very much obliged to poole for his treat--it's delicious." is it strange that the boy's perception of right and wrong should be obscured? or that, in a day or two afterward, he should come in from the street with an orange in his hand, and, on being questioned about it, reply: "a woman let it drop from her basket, and i picked it up. she didn't see it drop, mamma." "but why didn't you call after her?" asked aunt ruth. "'cause i didn't want to," answered the child. "she dropped it. i didn't knock it off." mrs. omdorff was not satisfied with the conduct of her child; and yet she was amused at what she called his cuteness, and laughed instead of reproving him for an act that was in spirit a theft. so the child's education for crime was begun--his ruin initiated. the low moral sense of his mother was perpetually showing itself in some disregard for others' rights. a mistake made in her favor was never voluntarily corrected, and her pleasure at any gain of this kind was rarely concealed. "he cheated himself," was a favorite saying, heard by karl almost every week; and as he grew older he understood its meaning more clearly. mr. omdorff was a man of higher integrity than his wife and just in dealing to the smallest fraction. "foolish about little things--more nice than wise," as she often said, when he disapproved of her way of doing things, as was sometimes the case. mrs. omdorff had learned to be guarded in her speech when he was at home; and so he remained in ignorance of the fatal perversions going on in the mind of his child. as the boy grew up his father's supervision became more direct. he was careful about his associates, and never permitted him to be away from home without knowing where and with whom he was. he knew but too well the danger of evil association; and guarded his boy with jealous solicitude. alas! he dreamed not of the evil influences at home; never imagined that the mother was destroying in her son that nice sense of honor without which no one is safe; nor that she had taught him to disregard the rights of others, to take mean advantages, and to appropriate what did not belong to him whenever it could be done with absolute certainty of concealment. we do not mean to say that such were the direct and purposed teachings of his mother. she would have been horror stricken at the mere suggestion. but she had so taught him by example. in heart she was not honest; and in many of her transactions she was as much a thief as if she had robbed a till. retaining what belongs to another, simply because it has come into our hands by mistake, is as much a theft in its spirit as purposed stealing; and the fine lady who keeps the change to which she is not entitled, or the yard of ribbon measured to her in error, is just as criminal, as the sneak-thief who gets into her hall through a neglected door and steals her husband's overcoat. the real quality of an act lies in the intent. is it any wonder that amid such home influences the boy did not show, as he advanced toward maturity, a high sense of honor? that he should be mean and selfish and dishonest in little things? "as the twig is bent the tree is inclined." evil seed will produce evil fruit. society punished and execrated the unhappy young man, and pitied his wretched mother, little dreaming that by her hand his prison doors had been opened. another instance of the baneful influence that may exist at home is to be found in the ruin of a young man who recently died in one of the lowest and vilest haunts of the city. he had been well educated, and grew to manhood with a fine sense of honor. his mother was a woman of rare culture, and beloved by every one in the circle where she moved. all the moral sentiments of her son had been carefully fostered and developed, and when he reached manhood no one showed a fairer promise. but it was not long before a shadow fell across his life. he had learned one thing at home that was destined to work his ruin--he had learned to love the taste of wine. his father belonged to a class of men who considered wine drinking a mark of good breeding. he knew all about wines, and had a weak vanity in being thought a connoisseur. if he had a friend to dinner, he would bring out two or three kinds, and discuss them through half the meal. he called the men who were ranging themselves against the terrible evil of intemperance, and seeking to stay its baleful course, "poor fanatics." he talked of pure wines and liquors as harmless, and gave them to his son at suitable times and occasions, _moderately_; only guarding him by warnings against excess. but these warnings went for nothing as appetite increased. at twelve years of age the boy was content with a single glass of light wine at his dinner; at eighteen he wanted two glasses, and at twenty-one three. by this time he had acquired convivial habits, and often drank freely with other young men of his age. his mother was the first to take the alarm; but his father was slow to believe that his son was in danger. the sad truth broke upon him at last in a painful humiliation. at a large party in his own house the young man became so badly intoxicated that he had to be removed from the company. from that unhappy period wine was banished from the father's table. but it was too late! the work of ruin had progressed too far. at twenty-seven the wretched young man died, as we have said, in one of the lowest and vilest dens of the city. we could give many instances like this. here, at home, is the chief source of that wide-spread ruin by intemperance, that is every year robbing society of thousands of young men, who, by education, culture, and social standing are fitted for useful and honorable positions. they are ruined at home. not in one case in ten does a young man acquire the taste for drink in a saloon or tavern, but at home--if not in his own home, in that of some friend. we fear that the drinking saloons men set up in their drawing-rooms, and to which they invite the young and old of both sexes, do more to deprave the taste and lead to intemperance than all the licensed taverns in the land. it is here that the appetite is formed and fostered--here that the apprenticeship to drunkenness is served. year by year the sons of our wealthiest and most intelligent and influential citizens are tempted and led astray by the drinking customs of society--ruined at home. how few of the sons of successful men rise to the level their fathers have gained. how many, alas! sink so far below this level that the eyes ache to look down upon them! good-bye--god bless you! i love the words--perhaps because when i was leaving mother, standing at last in solemn pause, we looked at one another; and i--i saw in mother's eyes the love she could not tell me, a love eternal as the skies, whatever fate befell me. she put her arms about my neck, and soothed the pain of leaving, and though her heart was like to break, she spoke no word of grieving; she let no tear bedim her eye, for fear that might distress me; but, kissing me, she said good-bye, and asked our god to bless me. how it was blotted out for many years i had been a follower of strange gods, and a lover of this world and its vanities. i was self-righteous, and thought i had religion of my own which was better than that of the bible. i did not know god, and did not serve him. prayer was forgotten, public worship neglected; and worldly morality was the tree which brought forth its own deceptive fruit. but when i shared parental responsibility, and our boy was growing up, our love for him made us anxious about his welfare and future career. his questions often puzzled me, and the sweet and earnest manner in which he inquired of his poor sinful father to know more about his heavenly father, and that "happy land, far, far away," of which his nurse had taught him, proved to me that god had given me a great blessing in the child. a greater distrust of myself, and a greater sense of my inability to assure my boy of the truth contained in the simple little prayers that i had learned from my mother in childhood, gradually caused me to reflect. still, i never went to church; had not even a bible in the house. what was i to teach my boy,--christ and him crucified, or the doctrines i had tried to believe? one of his little friends died, then another, then his uncle. all these deaths made an impression on the boy. he rebelled against it; wanted to know "why god had done it?" it was hard that god should take away his friends; he wished he would not do it. i, of course, had to explain the best i could. one evening he was lying on the bed partly undressed; my wife and i were seated by the fire. she had been telling me that willie had not been a good boy that day, and i had reproved him for it. all was quiet, when suddenly he broke out in a loud crying and sobbing, which surprised us. i went to him, and asked him what was the matter. "i don't want it there, father; i don't want it there," said the child. "what, my child, what is it?" "why, father, i don't want the angels to write down in god's book all the bad things i have done to-day. i don't want it there; i wish it could be wiped out;" and his distress increased. what could i do? i did not believe, but yet i had been taught the way. i had to console him, so i said,-- "well, you need not cry; you can have it all wiped out in a minute if you want." "how, father, how?" "why, get down on your knees, and ask god for christ's sake, to wipe it out, and he will do it." i did not have to speak twice. he jumped out of bed, saying, "father, won't you come and help me?" now came the trial. the boy's distress was so great, and he pleaded so earnestly, that the man who had never once bowed before god in spirit and in truth, got down on his knees beside that little child, and asked god to wipe away his sins; and perhaps, though my lips did not speak it, my heart included my own sins too. we then rose, and he lay down in his bed again. in a few moments more he said,-- "father, are you sure it is all wiped out?" oh, how the acknowledgment grated upon my unbelieving heart, as the words came to my mouth,--"why, yes, my son; the bible says that if from your heart you ask god for christ's sake to do it, and if you are really sorry for what you have done, it shall be all blotted out." a smile of pleasure passed over his face, as he quietly asked,-- "what did the angel blot it out with? with a sponge?" again was my whole soul stirred within me, as i answered,-- "no, but with the precious blood of christ. the blood of christ cleanseth from all sin." the fountains had at last burst forth. they could not be checked, and my cold heart was melted within me. i felt like a poor guilty sinner, and, turning away, said,-- "my dear wife, _we_ must first find god, if we want to show him to our children. we cannot show them the way, unless we know it ourselves." and in the silent hour of the night i bowed beside that dear boy, and prayed, "lord, i believe, help thou mine unbelief!" my wife, too, united with me, and we prayed jointly for ourselves and our child. and god heard our prayers, and received us, as he always does those who seek him with the whole heart. the way to overcome. when first from slumber waking, no matter what the hour, if you will say, "dear jesus, come, fill me with thy power," you'll find that every trouble and every care and sin will vanish, surely, fully, because christ enters in. it may be late in morning, or in the dark before, when first you hear his knocking; but open wide the door, and say to him, "dear jesus, come in and take the throne, lest satan with his angels should claim it for his own." for we are weak and sinful, "led captive at his will." but thou canst "bind the strong man," our heart with sweetness fill. so would we have "thy presence" from our first waking hour; all through the swift day's moments, dwell thou with us in power. never indorse. i shall not soon forget the family of israel day, who lived neighbor to my father when i was a boy. mr. day was working out as a laborer, and as he had a large family dependent upon his earnings for support, and sometimes it was difficult in our neighborhood to find employment, the family was poor, and the strictest economy had to be practiced to furnish the bare necessities of life. i often wondered how it happened that such a man as mr. day should be so poor. he had no intemperate or extravagant habits, and was a man of more than common education, and there was an air of intelligence and refinement about the entire family that commanded the respect of their neighbors. mr. day was industrious, but always seemed to me a man who had no ambition in life, and who expected and desired no more than a mere subsistence for his family. no one in the neighborhood knew anything of his history. the family had come from another state a few years previous, and while polite and friendly, they were very uncommunicative as to their former life, and there was something about them that forbade inquisitiveness. i was at this time sixteen years old, and on very intimate terms with mr. day's family. at the time of my story he was helping my father on the farm for a few days and boarding with us. one day when we came in from our forenoon work, we found 'squire black was to take dinner with us, and as he was reputed to be the wealthiest man in the township, we felt quite honored. he was a very genial man and an excellent talker, and had an adroit way of flattering and making every one feel easy in his company. on this occasion he made himself very agreeable; he praised the neat appearance of the farm and buildings, complimented mother on her good cooking, called me a fine, manly fellow, gave some small change to the children, and by the time dinner was over had gained the good will of the entire family. after dinner mr. black asked to see the stock and examine the arrangement of the barn and outbuildings, and as father took pride in having good, well-fed stock and one of the most conveniently arranged barns in the county, he was glad to show him around, and was much pleased with the hearty commendation which mr. black bestowed upon them. he finally made known the object of his visit; he had found a piece of very desirable property for sale, low, so that there was no question that within less than a year he could clear several thousand dollars on it, but he must pay all cash down and he lacked two thousand dollars of having enough money to pay for it. he wished father to become security for him for one year, as he had found a party who was willing to lend him the amount if his signature could be had to the note. he did not give father time to think or scarcely to answer his questions, but took out his pocketbook and handed him a paper, supposing it to be the note which he had drawn up, and signed by himself, all ready for father's signature. i verily believe that if the paper had been what squire black thought it to be, father could not have refused to sign it; but it so happened that he had made a mistake and left the note at home and had substituted for it another paper. a shade of vexation passed over the 'squire's face when he discovered the mistake, but he at once recovered his good humor and said, "never mind; i will call again this evening," and hastily mounted his horse and rode away. father looked troubled, and turning to me, said, "i do not like to indorse for any one, but 'squire black will be insulted if i refuse, and as he is rich i suppose there can be no risk about it. it is only complying with a legal form, and i suppose i shall be obliged to do it; but i wish he had not asked me to do so." before i could reply, the barn door opened and mr. day came out; he was pale and deeply agitated, and when he spoke i should not have recognized his voice. calling my father by name, he said, "i believe that you are in danger, and if you will listen to me i will give you a chapter from my own history that i had never intended should be known to any in this neighborhood." father motioned for me to leave, thinking that mr. day wished to speak to him alone. he noticed it, however, and said, "no, let him stay, for one cannot learn too soon the lesson that my experience teaches. i would be willing that it should be published to the world if thereby some could be saved from my bitter experience. i overheard, as you know, what 'squire black said to you. listen to my story and then decide as to whether you will put your name on his note." [illustration: paul at athens] "fifteen years ago, when i was married, i was not the poor man that you now know me to be. my father gave me as my share of his property two thousand dollars, which i had increased to three, and my wife received as her wedding portion one thousand dollars. we were both strong and willing to work, and ambitious to succeed in the world, and we bought a good farm, running in debt a few hundred dollars. for several years we were greatly prospered. we had good health, and the seasons were favorable, so that we grew heavy crops and obtained fair prices for them. "at the end of five years we had paid off our debt and had nearly one thousand dollars in the bank, and we felt that it would be safe to build a new house, although we expected to put more than the amount of money on hand into it. "in the meantime there had come into the neighborhood one of the most companionable men i ever met. he was familiarly known as capt. cole. he had been a lawyer, but had been appointed by the general government to a lucrative office which he held for some years, and had the reputation of being very wealthy. he lived in good style, and was a general favorite in all the community. "when my house was finished i found myself in debt seven hundred dollars, and as i had given the contract to a carpenter, he to furnish everything, he needed all his money. i went to the bank to borrow the amount until i could find some one who would let me have it for one or two years, and not being accustomed to borrow money, it did not occur to me that an indorser would be necessary, until the cashier of the bank informed me that it was their invariable custom to require security. capt. cole, who happened to be in at the time, overheard the conversation and came forward with a pleasant 'good morning,' saying, 'i shall be only too happy to indorse for my friend, mr. day.' i felt both grateful and flattered, and when a few months later i happened to be in the bank when he wanted an indorser, i was glad to return the favor. "we had two years of prosperity, and i paid the debt on my house. i now determined to build a fine barn, and as i had always paid my debts easily and could not well get along with my old barn until i had saved the money to build the new one, i determined to borrow one thousand dollars, and happening to meet capt. cole, i asked him if he knew where i could get that amount for three years. he told me he did, and offered to become my security. the money was borrowed and my barn begun. "a few weeks later capt. cole called to see me. like 'squire black to-day, he seemed delighted with everything he saw. his flattery put me in the best possible humor, and when he asked me to indorse a note of $ , for sixty days, and assured me that he could meet it (or even twice as much) promptly, to the day, i consented against my better judgment, and affixed my signature to the note. that act ruined me. before the sixty days expired i learned that he was bankrupt. my farm was sold at a sacrifice, under the hammer, and when i paid the thousand dollars which i had borrowed to build the barn with, i was left penniless. "with my history in your possession, do you wonder that i was alarmed to-day when i saw you about to fall into the same trap? i tell you i have a right to feel deeply on this subject. would that i could make my voice heard by every young man in the land. i would say to him, shun as you would a serpent this evil which has brought ruin to so many families. i realize fully what it means to put my name on another man's paper, and it is just this--that i assume all the risks of his business, without any voice in its management or any possible chance of profit if he is successful; but with a fearful certainty that if from any cause he makes a failure, my earnings must make it good, even though it reduces my family to beggary. since my own misfortune i have made this a matter of study, and i find that a very large per cent. of the business failures, of the country (and nearly all among farmers) are due to this practice." the remainder of my story is soon told. my father was deeply impressed by mr. day's story, and before night i was dispatched to 'squire black's with a note from father stating that after carefully considering the matter he had decided not to sign the note. in less than a year after this 'squire black was declared a bankrupt, and in the final settlement of his business it did not pay ten cents on the dollar. father felt that he owed a debt of gratitude to mr. day, and he presented him with a good team and helped him to rent a farm. this encouraged him, and he worked so industriously and managed so prudently that in a few years he was able to buy a small farm and has since been able to support his family comfortably. many years have passed since these events occurred, and i am now past middle life, but i have never ceased to be thankful for the lesson taught me by mr. day, and in fulfilling his wish i would repeat the lesson which the story teaches--never indorse. watch your words. keep a watch on your words, my darling, for words are wonderful things; they are sweet like the bee's fresh honey-- like the bees, they have terrible stings; they can bless, like the warm, glad sunshine, and brighten a lonely life; they can cut in the strife of anger, like an open two-edged knife. let them pass through your lips unchallenged, if their errand is true and kind-- if they come to support the weary, to comfort and help the blind; if a bitter, revengeful spirit prompt the words, let them be unsaid; they may flash through a brain like lightning, or fall on a heart like lead. keep them back, if they are cold and cruel, under bar and lock and seal; the wounds they make, my darling, are always slow to heal. may peace guard your life, and ever, from the time of your early youth, may the words that you daily utter be the words of beautiful truth. a life lesson albert moore, at the age of twenty-five, took alice warren for his wife. he had been in the army--fought through from bull's bluff to richmond--had come out with a captain's commission. he had come from the army with but little money; but he had a good trade, a stout pair of hands, and had borrowed no trouble for the future. alice had saved up a few hundred dollars from her wages as a teacher, and when the twain had become husband and wife they found, upon a careful inventory, that they had enough to furnish a small house comfortably. albert proposed that they should hire a tenement in the city; but alice thought they had better secure a pretty cottage in the suburbs--a cottage which they might, perhaps, in time, make their own. albert had no disposition to argue the question, so the cottage was found and secured. it was a pleasant, rural location, and so connected with the city by rail, that albert found no difficulty in going to and from his workshop. during her five years' experience in school-teaching alice had learned many things, and having been an orphan from an early age, she had made the problems of real life one of her chief studies; and what she had learned in this latter department served her well in her new station. after marriage she found albert to be just the man she had known him to be in other years. he was kind to a fault; free-hearted and generous; ready always to answer the call of friendship; and prone to pluck the flowers that bloom to-day, regardless of what may be nurtured to bloom to-morrow. they had been married but a few months when alice found he was cutting his garments according to his daily supply of cloth. not a shred was he likely to save up from the cuttings for an extra garment for a rainy day to come. "albert," she said to him one evening, "do you know we ought to be laying up a little something?" albert looked up from his paper and waited for his wife to explain. "i think i heard you tell mr. greenough that you had no money--that you had paid out your last dollar this very afternoon?" "exactly, my dear; but you know to-morrow is pay-day." "and you have spent your last month's earnings?" "yes." a brief silence ensued, which albert broke. "come, alice, you've got something on your mind. out with it--i'll listen." and then alice, in a smiling, pleasant way, went on to tell her husband that they ought to be laying up something. albert smiled in turn, and asked how such a thing could be done when it cost all he earned to live. "you earn three dollars and a half a day," said alice. "yes." "george summers earns only three dollars a day." "you are right." "and yet he lives and does not run in debt." "but he is forced to deny himself many little comforts which we enjoy." "and the one great comfort which we might enjoy we are throwing away." "how is that, alice." "the comfort of a little sum in the bank, which we should see growing toward the answering of future wants." albert could not see how it was to be done; and alice feared that a lesson of empty words might be wasted. she knew that his ambition needed a substantial prop. never, of his own accord, would he commence to save by littles. he did not estimate money in that way. had some kind fairy dropped into his hand a five-twenty bond for five hundred dollars, he would have put it away gladly; and with such a nest-egg in the start, he might have sought to add to the store. but he could see no hope in a dollar bill, and much less could he discover the nucleus of a grand saving in a fifty-cent piece. with alice it was different. from her meager earnings as school-teacher she had in less than five years, saved up three hundred dollars; and the first saving she had put by was a silver dime. she knew what little by little could do, and she was determined to show it to her husband. she must be patient and persevering, and these qualities she possessed in an eminent degree. it was to be the grand undertaking of the first years of her married life, and to do it she would bend every available energy. she planned that if possible she would get hold of that fifty cents every day; or, if she could not do that she would do the best she could. generous, frank, loyal, and loving, albert was an easy prey to the wiles of a wife loyal and loving as himself. he gave her money when she asked for it; and she asked for it when she thought he had any to give. and here let me say that alice knew her husband would not run in debt. that was an evil they both arrayed themselves against in the outset. when albert's purse was empty he bought nothing; but when it was full he was apt to buy more than he needed. alice knew all this and governed herself accordingly. "i think," said alice, one evening, "that i must fix over my old brown cashmere for winter, i should like a new one, but i don't suppose you can afford it." albert looked grieved. the idea that he could not afford his wife a new dress! but such a one as she wanted would cost twenty-five or thirty dollars. "if you want it, get it," said albert emphatically. "i will let you have twenty dollars from this month's pay, and the balance you shall have next month." alice got the thirty dollars, but she did not get the new dress. by the outlay of five dollars for new trimmings she contrived to fix over the brown cashmere so that it looked every bit as good as new. and so alice worked. sometimes she asked her husband for ten cents, sometimes for fifty cents, sometimes for a dollar, and sometimes for more, and at the end of a year, upon carefully reckoning up, she found that she had managed to get hold of rather more than fifty cents a day; but she had done it by denying herself of many things, some of which seemed really needful. the result of the first year's effort inspired alice with new life and vigor. she had saved one hundred and fifty dollars, and had invested it in government funds. through the influence of a dear friend who was in a banking establishment, and to whom she had confided her secret, she was enabled to get the bonds at their face value. it was only a little at a time--sometimes a very little--but those littles multiplied by other littles, grew amazingly. the husbandman who would sit himself down by a hill of corn, and wait to see the tender blades put forth would be disheartened; but he knows if he plants the tiny seed, and cultivates it as he ought, the harvest of golden grain will come at length. albert and alice were married in the spring of . it was on an evening of august, , that albert came home. he had been notified that they must leave the cottage. they must give up the pleasant home, and lose the little garden they had cultivated with so much fondness and care. "the owner wishes to sell," he exclaimed; "and has an offer. he asks two thousand dollars, and must have five hundred down." alice's eyes gleamed with radiant delight. she had been thinking for some time that she must let her husband into her secret. it had begun to wear upon her. and now the time had come as by providential interposition. she got up and went away to her cabinet, and when she came back she brought a little book in her hand. "albert!" said she, "lets you and i buy the cottage." albert looked at her in amazement; and directly it flashed upon him that there was too much solemnity in her look and tone for badinage. something that he had noticed during the past few months came back to him, and he trembled with the weight of suspense that fell upon him. alice then showed her book--that she had more than eight hundred dollars in the bank. the ice was broken--she told her story in glowing words. she told how she had saved up little by little, and how she had at length found herself able to purchase a fifty-dollar bond. and then she told how her uncle in the banking-house had taken charge of her investment; and how, under his management, the interest had accrued in amazing volume. but the grand result was not the chief thing. the chief thing was the beginning--was the very little which had been religiously saved until the second little could be added to it. and now, as a result of his wife's careful and tireless working, albert found something upon which his ambition could take a fair start. he never could himself, from so small a commencement, have reared the pile; but with the structure started, and its proportions all blocked out, he could help on the work. he could see how it was done--and not only that, but the demonstration was before him that the thing could be done. one year has elapsed since albert moore received the lesson from his wife, and joining hands with her, and bending his energies in the same direction, he has accomplished during the twelve months what would have seemed to him a marvel in the earlier time. he has laid by more than fifty cents a day; and the cigars, and the beer, and the other condiments of life which he has surrendered to the work, are not missed--rather, he holds they are so many enemies conquered. and albert can improve his home with cheerful heart, and he can set out new trees and vines in his garden with bright promises, because he sees, day by day, the pretty cottage growing more and more his own. the end approaches a little at a time--little by little it approaches, but surely, nevertheless; and there is a great and satisfying joy even in the labor and in the anticipation. o deem not they are blest alone whose lives a peaceful tenor keep; for god, who pities man, hath shown a blessing for the eyes that weep. the light of smiles shall fill again the lids that overflow with tears, and weary hours of woe and pain are promises of happier years. for god has marked each sorrowing day, and numbered every secret tear, and heaven's long age of bliss shall pay for all his children suffer here. --_william cullen bryant._ hard times conquered. about seventy years ago, a physician with a young family springing up about him, consulting his wife, as all good husbands find it prudent to do, bought a large farm in one of our new england states, where every farmer truly earns his living by the sweat of his brow. both felt that nowhere could their children be trained to industry and frugality so thoroughly as on a good farm. the doctor was obliged to "run in debt" for this property, and he gave a mortgage on the place. the payments were to be made quarterly, and promptly, or the whole would be forfeited and revert to the original owner. in those days physicians were not likely to become millionaires, and though dr. mason's practice was large, the pay was small, and not always sure. he therefore looked to the farm for the means to release him from the bondage of debt; and the children, even to the youngest, were taught to labor for, and look forward eagerly to, the time "when we have paid for the farm!" the creditor was the doctor's father-in-law, through his first wife, and while the good old gentleman lived, if by any mishap or overpress of business the quarterly payment had been delayed, it would have been kindly excused. but for the ten or fifteen years that he lived after the sale of the farm, there had not been one delay in payment, though now and then there would come a time when it was very hard to secure the needed sum in time, for even in the olden days "hard times" were often experienced, to the terror of our hard-working new england farmers. but little by little, the heavy debt was diminishing, and the doctor's family were looking forward hopefully to the year of jubilee, when they could sit under their own vine and fig-tree with none to molest and make them afraid. at this period the father-in-law died. he had but two children, --daughters. the younger, the doctor's wife, died childless. the elder married a hard, close, scheming man who lost no opportunity of remarking that he would, no doubt, soon come in possession of dr. mason's farm, as the latter, with his large family, must fail by and by. the financial troubles which the war of had caused, as all wars are sure to do, were not yet adjusted. money was scarce, and payments very difficult. ten children now filled the old house with merriment and gladness; but they were to be clothed and educated. let us see how successfully they had been taught to make their high spirits and resolute wills cheerful auxiliaries in lifting the burden, which, since their grandfather's death, was pressing upon their parents. at the time of which we write, among other crops, rye was extensively raised. it was used for food among the farmers quite as much as wheat, and was also valuable for other purposes. when full-grown, but still in the milk, large quantities were cut to be used for "braiding." the heads were used for "fodder;" the stalks, after being soaked in strong hot soap-suds, were spread on the grass for the sun to whiten. when sufficiently bleached and ready for use, they were cut at each joint, and the husk stripped off, and the straw thus prepared was then tied in pound bundles for sale. bonnets, then, meant something more than a small bit of silk or velvet with a flower or feather attached, and the "straw braid" for making them was in great demand. boys and girls were alike taught to braid, and the long winter evenings were not spent idly. dr. mason raised large crops of rye, and each child, almost as soon as he could walk, was taught to braid, and was soon able to do much by it toward clothing himself. at six years of age a dollar a week was easily earned; at eight, three dollars; and in something of that proportion up to the eldest. does any one think that such a life, with such an object in view, was hard or cruel? never was there a greater mistake. it was of great value to those young spirits. they had something real, that they could understand, to labor for. there was life and courage and true heroism in it. it was an education--with here and there, to be sure, some rough places to pass over--which was worth more to them than all the money millionaires bequeath their sons and daughters; an education which prepared them in after-life to be courageous and self-helpful. it is this kind of training that has made new england's sons and daughters strong and self-reliant, and the lack of it which makes these hard times such a horror that we hear of many who seek death by their own hands as preferable to the struggle for better times. in the long winter evenings, when the labor of the day was over, the children home from school, and the "chores" all finished, the candles were lighted and the evening work began. the mother in her corner was busy making and mending for her large family. the doctor, if not with the sick, read and studied opposite her. the children gathered around the long table in the middle of the room, where lay the school-books and straw previously prepared for braiding, while the old fireplace, heaped with blazing logs of hickory, oak, and fragrant birch, made the room warm and cheerful. here, with their books before them and fastened open to the next day's lessons, the children with nimble fingers plaited the straw and studied at the same time. for children taught to be industrious, usually carry into the schoolroom the principles thus developed, and are ambitious to keep as near the head of the class as possible. such a family as this was well equipped to meet and conquer adversity. for several days dr. mason had been unusually grave and silent. all noticed it, but no remarks were made until evening, when he came to supper, so unmistakably worried and despondent that his wife inquired if he were not well. "yes, well enough. but, lucy, i have so far been unable to collect money for our quarterly payment. so much is due me that i had no fears but that enough would be promptly paid to save me any trouble." "how much is there lacking?" "not quite a hundred dollars; but it might as well be thousands for any chance i now see of getting it in season. there is now so much sickness about, that, as you know, i have had no rest, and little time to collect money. if not ready before midnight to-morrow, we are ruined. i have kept it from you as long as i dared, still hoping that those who ought to pay me would do so." "have you told them how very important it is that you should have the money?" "no; i did not wish to speak of it. mr. h. is watching greedily for a 'slip,' and we need expect no mercy at his hands. under our hard labor and good care, this farm has risen greatly in value--too much so for him to spare us an hour, if he can once get hold of it. i am about discouraged. it is the darkest time we have seen yet. but i must be off, and will probably be kept out all night. to think there are not forty-eight hours between us and ruin! and my hands are so tied by several severe cases, that i may not find one hour to make up the little that is needed." for a few minutes after the doctor left, the children stood silent and sad, watching their mother. at last she said,-- "children, we can help father through this, and save our home, if you are willing to submit to some little self-denial. no; i should have said to _great_ self-denial. each of you has worked diligently to buy new garments for winter. you need them and deserve them, and i should be happy and proud to see you all neat and comfortable. but to help father, are you willing to let me try to clean, mend, or make over your old clothes, and use what you have earned to help brighten this dark day? the braid you have on hand, and what is now due at the store, is all your own, or to be expended for your own clothes, and if each one of you is not _perfectly willing_, i don't wish you to give it up." it was a beautiful sight to see those eager faces watching their mother, ready to answer the moment she had finished; for in the olden time children were taught that it was disrespectful to interrupt any one when speaking, even when, as in this case, it was difficult to keep silent. but the reply, when given, was prompt, enthusiastic, as she had confidently looked for it to be. "thanks, dear children? now, then, hasten. first bring me all your braid, and let us see how much it will come to." the braid, in ten-yard rolls, was brought, and its value estimated. "with that which is now due us at the store, we have nearly sixty dollars! well done, for all these little fingers! but now we must devise a way to make up the remainder. your father spoke last night of a large quantity of straw, which, if cut, would bring in something. he will be away all night. if you work well, we can cut many pounds before midnight. now, girls, help me wash the dishes, while your brothers bring, before dark, the straw we can cut to-night." by the time the candles were lighted, all was ready to begin. the younger children were excused at their usual bedtime, but the others worked with their mother till the tall clock in the corner struck one. then all retired for a few hours' rest. dr. mason returned home in season for breakfast, and his wife inquired if the eldest son could drive her over to the neighboring town to dispose of some braid for the children. he replied that he must be gone again nearly all day, and neither son nor team could well be spared from important work at home. but a strange thing followed this implied refusal. mrs. mason, who never allowed her plans or wishes to interfere with her husband's, now repeated her request, and urged it till he yielded, apparently from sheer surprise that his wife could be so persistent. the doctor went his usual round, and the mother and her son departed on their mysterious errand. their business accomplished, they returned well satisfied and ready for supper when the father arrived. a deeper gloom was on his face when he entered; but no word was spoken till all were seated at the table. then in a slightly agitated voice his wife inquired,-- "have you been successful in obtaining the money?" he shook his head, but remained silent. each young quivering face was turned first toward him, then with earnest, questioning glance to the mother. "be not discouraged, dear, even at this late hour." "are you wild, lucy? there are but six hours between us and ruin. can you talk of hope now? i have none." with a warning gesture to the children, she rose, stepped to her husband's chair, and passing her arm round his neck, said, gently,-- "yet still hope on, my husband; god will not forsake us." he moved impatiently from under her arm; but as he did so, she dropped a roll into his bosom and turned toward her chair. "lucy! lucy! what is this? where did you get it?" all was wild with excitement. each child laughing, sobbing, shouting, but one glance from that strong but gentle mother quelled the confusion, and she replied,-- "it is our children's offering, and is sufficient to make up the needed sum. i persisted in going away this morning against your wish, because i saw no escape. we cut the straw last night--many willing hands made quick work; i sold it, and their braid added to it, with what was already due them, completed the sum." those who witnessed that scene will never forget it; dr. mason with his arm around his wife, and both in tears, calling her all happy names; the children clinging about their parents, so joyful that home was saved, and they had helped to save it. "put charlie into the wagon, quick. if he fails me not, the six miles between here and m---- will be the shortest i ever rode. i shall be home before bedtime to thank you all. i cannot now. i hope we shall never come so near ruin again." and they never did. in two years the last dollar was paid, and then dr. mason resolved he would never again owe any one a cent. he kept his resolution. it is easy enough to be pleasant when life flows by like a song, but the man worth while is the one who will smile when everything goes dead wrong. a good lesson spoiled a darkened room, spacious and handsomely furnished--being, in fact, the chamber of mrs. wilcox, the mother of the little fellow who occupied the wide bed. he lay there in lugubrious state, the rosy face stained with much crying, just showing above the edge of the counterpane; his tangle of yellow curls crushed upon the bolster. below these was a white mound, stretched along the middle of the bed, just the length of robby, aged seven and a half, the youngling of the wilcox family. two big blue eyes, glazed with tears, wandered from one to another of the two faces gazing at him from opposite sides of the horizontal pillory. both were kindly, both loving, both sad. they belonged to the parents of robby, and he had been convicted, sentenced, and punished for telling a lie. his mother had sent him to the fruit-store with twenty-five cents and an order for two lemons. the tempter, in the form of a "street-boy," waylaid him at the corner with a challenge to a competitive show for tops. the silver "quarter" was in the same pocket with robby's new air top and card, the pride of his soul. he may have drawn it out with his handkerchief when he wiped his face after the game. the tempter may have known more about it than the tempted suspected. at any rate, the money was not to be found, and he was close by and ready with his proposition when robby discovered the loss. "mamma will certainly scold me this time," he subjoined, turning every pocket inside out, and staring distractedly up and down the street. "i lost ten cents last week, and she told me to be more careful." "don't tell her! and don't pay for the lemons. when the bill comes in, your mamma will have forgotten all about sending you for them, or she will think the lemon-feller made a mistake. i know lots of real gamey fellers who get out of scrapes that way. it's only milk-sops who run to mammy with every little bother." the experiment thus suggested and urged, was a success until mamma demanded the change. "he said there wasn't any!" faltered the errand-boy. "no change! out of twenty-five cents!" then with a searching look at the scarlet face painfully averted--"_robby!_" the "milk-sop" bethought himself of the "gamey fellers." "honest-true, mamma!" he plucked up courage to say. "put on your hat, my son, and go with me to the store where you bought the lemons. there is something wrong when my boy cannot look me in the eyes!" thus came about the tragedy that darkened the june day for the whole wilcox household. it was at nine o'clock on saturday morning that the falsehood was detected. at two p.m. mrs. wilcox brought up the prisoner's dinner. only bread and water! he had smelled the savory soup and roast lamb, and the cook had hinted at strawberry short-cake when he passed, whistling, through the kitchen, turning the silver quarter over in his pocket. that was almost five hours ago, and he was to lie here until supper-time, _alone_! when he had eaten the bread of affliction, seasoned with tears of self-pity and remorse, mamma re-appeared with papa. "my son!" said the latter, "i would rather have you die in your innocent boyhood than grow up a _liar_! tell the straight, simple truth always and everywhere. no brave man will lie. papa does not want his boy to be a coward. no honest man will deceive or tell a falsehood. papa does not want his boy to be a cheat!" mrs. wilcox sat down on the bed when her husband had gone. all the mother-heart in her was crying out and tearing itself with longing and pity ineffable. arms and heart ached to enfold the precious little sinner so grievously worsted in the battle with temptation. "mamma is very sorry that her darling has been so naughty!" she said, bowing her head upon the pillow beside the mat of curls dampened by the rain from the culprit's eyes. "mamma! indeed, i will _never_ tell another lie--not the leastest fib!" he sobbed. "god help you to keep your word, my son. every falsehood is like a drop of ink upon snow to your soul!" she stroked back his hair and comforted herself by giving him, one after another, the passionate kisses withheld through all these miserable hours. holding the chubby fingers in hers, she talked to him a few minutes longer of his sin, and to whom he should look for forgiveness; then bending over him, she prayed in simple words and few for the little one who had stumbled to his own hurt. "lie still and think it all over, dear!" was her parting injunction. at the tea-table, robby was not disposed to talk. he noted and understood the grave gentleness of his father's countenance and demeanor; the chastened loveliness of his mother's look; the quiet tone caught by the other children from the grown-up sister who sat next to him. his transgression had affected the spirits of the whole party. the very avoidance of all direct reference to it was significant and impressive. it was something too disgraceful for table-talk. a blackened soul! soiled lips! these were the figures most distinct to his imagination as he crept after supper into the library, and sat down at the alcoved window looking upon a side street. the boys were playing noisily in the warm twilight. robby watched them, curled up on the window bench, one foot tucked under him, his face more sober each minute. he was sure his mother would shake her head sadly were he to request permission to join the joyous group of his fellows. nor did he care--very much--to go out. the recollection of sin and consequent suffering was too fresh. nettie, the grown-up sister, had a visitor, and mamma had joined the girls, and was chatting cheerfully with them--not at all as she looked at the cowering little liar under the counterpane up-stairs. "mamma," suddenly exclaimed the daughter, "there are old mr. and mrs. bartol! i do believe you are to be honored by a call from them." "i sincerely hope not," was the answer. "papa and i had planned a walk on this lovely evening, and our friends the bartols are given to long sittings." "besides being insufferably prosy," interpolated plain-spoken nettie. "they _are_ coming in. milly, you and i can run away!" and they fluttered through the back-parlor door. mamma's face was overcast with genuine vexation. her sigh, "how provoking!" reached the alcoved auditor. then she advanced to meet a fat old lady, and a fatter, bald old gentleman. "is this really you, mr. bartol? it is an age since i have met you. i am happy to see you both. pray be seated." "oh, _good_ gracious!" said robby, under his breath, sinking back into his corner, actually sick and trembling. when he could listen and think again, papa had been sent for, and mr. bartol was apologizing for mingling business with a friendly visit. he wanted to buy a house owned by mr. wilcox, situated near his--mr. bartol's--home. the play of negotiation, of parry and thrust, was courteous, as befitted actors and scene, but mr. bartol's intention to buy cheap, and his host's desire to sell dear, were palpable to the unworldly eavesdropper. "i am sorry you hold the property at so high a figure!" finally remarked mr. bartol, rising to take leave. "i must consult the friend who commissioned me to make inquiries, before i can say anything definite." mr. wilcox was the impersonation of smiling indifference. "the truth is, my dear sir, i do not care to sell at all. the property is rising in value, and i may remove to that part of the city myself next year. i should lose on it were i to take less than the price i have named." when the guests had gone, mr. wilcox turned laughingly to his wife: "well, my love, you have lost your walk, but your husband has made four thousand dollars--clear!" "you think he will buy the place, then?" "i know he will! he wants to settle his daughter there. she is to be married next month. i had a hint to that effect some days since. i had the game in my hands from the first. i bought the property, three years ago, at a low figure. the rent has covered interest, taxes, etc. i shall never live there myself. it would not be convenient for my business. i have been anxious this great while to sell. i am already carrying more real estate than i ought to hold." "i am afraid robby is less impressed by the lesson of to-day than we could desire," observed mrs. wilcox sorrowfully to her husband at bedtime. "he strode off to bed without saying 'good night' to any one, and pretended to be asleep when i looked into his room just now, answering gruffly after i told him i knew he was awake. what shall i do if my child becomes an habitual deceiver?" "we must watch his associations narrowly," replied the judicious father. "everything depends upon the examples and impressions of early life." benevolent society. in the snug, cozy barroom of the "farmers' inn," at madisonville, sat six young men. it was a cold, bleak evening in december; and the wind that howled and drove without, drifting the snow and rattling the shutters, gave to the blazing fire and steaming kettle additional charms and comforts. there was peter hobbs, a youth of five and twenty, who seemed to be the leader, _par excellence_, of the party. he was a good-natured, intelligent, frank-looking man, and was really a noble-hearted citizen. then there was john fulton, a youth of the same age, who worked with hobbs, both being journeyman carpenters. samuel green was a machinist; walter mason, a tin worker; lyman drake, a cabinet maker; and william robinson, a clerk. they ranged, in age, from twenty-three to twenty-eight, and were really industrious youths, receiving good wages, and maintaining good characters for honesty, sobriety, and general good behavior. yet they were looked upon by some as ungodly youths, and given over to perdition. true, they belonged to no church; and, amid the various conflicting creeds by which they were surrounded, they had not yet settled down upon any one in particular, believing that there was good in all of them, and evil among the members of each. on the present occasion, they were all of them smoking, and the empty mugs which stood upon the table near them, showed pretty conclusively that they had been drinking something besides water. the subject of the cold winter had been disposed of; the quality of the warm ale and cigars had been thoroughly discussed, and at length the conversation turned upon the missionary meeting, which had been held in the town on the previous sabbath. "i don't know but this missionary business is all right," said sam green, knocking the ashes from his cigar with his little finger, "but at the same time, i don't believe in it. them hindoos and south sea islanders may be savage and ignorant, by our scale of measuring folks; but that is no reason why we folks should send all our money off there, while our own folks are starving at home." "did you put anything into the box?" asked lyman drake. "no, i didn't. when they shoved it into my face, i told 'em i'd left all my money at home--and so i had." "you're about right, sam," said bill robinson. "but i did more than you did. when the box was handed to me, i spoke right out, so that everybody around me heard. i told the old deacon if he'd take up a subscription to help the poor in our town, i'd put in something." "what did he say to that?" "why--he said, 'souls are of more consequence than bodies.' so i just said back that i guessed he'd find it hard work to save a soul out of a starving body. but you see that isn't the thing. they won't try to save the souls, or the bodies either, of their own townfolks. now when squire truman came here to settle, they tried quick enough to save his soul. ye see his body was already salted down with ten thousand dollars, so his soul was worth something to 'em. why don't they try to save poor old israel trask's soul, and his wife's too?" "wasn't there a committee of the church that visited old israel last month?" queried drake. "yes--there was," answered sam, giving his cigar an indignant shake; "and what did they do? they went there--four on 'em--and found the old folks suffering for want of food and clothing. they tried to make the old man believe their religion was the only true one in the world, but he would not. so they gave him three tracts and a little cheap book, and then went away. that's what they did. afore i'd give a cent to such chaps to send off to feed their missionaries in baugwang and slapflam islands, i'd throw it into the fire." "but these missionaries are honest people, and do some good," remarked peter hobbs, who had not before spoken on the subject. "of course they do," responded sam. "but wouldn't it look better of 'em to begin some of their charities at home? i judge of a man's order by the way his own shop looks, and not by the way he may fuss around on another man's premises. and just so with those philanthropists. i'd rather see how much their religion does toward keeping the gentiles of their own town, than to go away off to the other end of the earth to look for the fruits of their christianity. them's my sentiments." "and mine too," uttered walter mason, who had just thrown away the stump of one cigar, and was about lighting another. "just think; they collected, last sunday, to send off to the hindoos, over two hundred dollars. now, that would have made half the poor families in this town--and i don't know but all--comfortable for the winter. there was mr. netherly--worth forty thousand dollars--he put in a ten-dollar bill. it was a great, new bill, and he opened it, and held it up, and even turned it round, so't everybody could see it before he let it drop. then at the end, when the box was carried up into the pulpit, the deacon whispered to the minister; and the minister got up, and, said, taking hold of the corner of the rich man's bill: 'here is ten dollars from one brother. let that brother be assured that his deed is remembered of him in heaven.' yes, that's what was said; and mr. netherly held up his head, bowed very low, and then looked around at the rest of the congregation, as much as to say, '_that's me_.' now i know of another thing that i guess'll be remembered in heaven, alongside of this one. last week, poor old trask--uncle israel--called at netherly's with some baskets. you know the old man gets out stuff in the summer, and then in the winter makes it up. well, he went there, and asked netherly if he wouldn't buy a basket. no; he didn't want one. then the old man told him how he and his poor old wife were suffering, and he asked him if he couldn't help him in some way; and what do you think netherly said?--why, he said that he had to pay taxes to help support a poorhouse, and told uncle israel that he'd find help there, if he'd only apply to the selectmen! now what d'ye think of that, eh?" "why," returned sam, "i think if he's got an account in heaven, he'll find a balance against him, when he comes to settle up." "so he will," responded three or four of the others. for some moments after this, the party smoked in silence. peter hobbs had been pondering very deeply upon something, and at length he spoke: "now look here, boys," he said, throwing his half-smoked cigar into the fire, "there's a good deal of truth in what's been said--in fact, it's all true; but, before we blame others, we ought to do something ourselves. now i'm ready to form a regular benevolent society. let us six go at the work, and see what we can do toward alleviating some of the distress about us. what say you?" the other five looked on in wonder. "but," said sam, "how are we to do it? we arn't among the favored ones. we weren't born with silver spoons in our mouths." "i should like to do it," added drake, "but what's the use? we couldn't do much any way--not enough to amount to anything." and so the others expressed their opinions in like manner. they all "would like," but "where was the money to come from?" "listen," said peter; and they all turned toward him with real deference, for they knew he never wore a cloak over his heart, and that when he spoke in earnest, his meaning had depth to it. "now i have formed a plan. there is old uncle israel and his wife; then there is the widow manley, with four little children, suffering for want of the actual necessaries of life; and then there is mrs. williams--she is very poor. her son philip, who is her mainstay, was sick all the summer and fall, and is sick now; so the woman got nothing from her little patch of land, and is now absolutely reduced to beggary, with herself and sick son to support. now let us take these three cases in hand, and support them." "but how?" asked three or four voices, anxiously, for they really and fully sympathized with the noble plan. "i'll tell you," resumed peter. "here, tim," he called, turning to the bar-keeper, "what's our bill?" "let's see," responded the worthy, coming up. "there's two cigars apiece, three cents each--that's thirty-six. then the ale--three pints--eighteen cents; and wine--three gills--that's eighteen more--makes just thirty-six more; and twice thirty-six is--is--seventy-two--seventy-two cents in all." "come, boys," said peter, "let's pay an equal share to-night. let's give him ninepence apiece." so the "boys" paid up, and after tim had gone, peter resumed: "now see what we've spent to-night for nothing. i'll begin with you, sam. how much do you suppose you spend each day for cigars and ale? now reckon fairly." "let's see," was sam's response after gazing into the face of his interlocutor until he had fairly got hold of the idea. "i certainly average four--no, five cigars a day, and i suppose they average three cents apiece. then comes my ale--but i could not tell how much that amounts to, for i don't drink it regularly, but perhaps six cents a day." "that's just twenty-one cents a day, utterly wasted," said peter; "and i'll own up to wasting twenty-five cents a day. how is it with you, john?" "i'll say twenty-five." "and you, walter?" "just about the same." "lyman?" "the same." "bill?" "the same." "now look at it. here we are, a little worse than wasting about a dollar and a half a day. but let us put our loss at a shilling each--" "no, no," cried sam, who saw through the whole plan. "let's give honest measure. i'll own up to the twenty-five. let's go the whole, if any." "very well," returned peter; "then let us commence and pledge ourselves not to smoke, or drink ale, for one month from this date. every night we will lay away a quarter of a dollar, and at the end of the week we'll put our savings all together, and then go on our mission. what say you?" with one voice the other five joined in the plan. the novelty of the thing may have pleased them; but the real incentives lay deeper down in the natural goodness of their hearts. there was no written pledge, but they took a more speedy method. peter laid his hand upon the table, and said: "here's my hand, pledged to the work." "and mine too," cried sam, laying his broad palm atop of peter's. "and mine," "and mine," "and mine," chimed the rest, placing their hands atop of the other until the six right hands lay upon the table in a pyramid. "this is tuesday," resumed peter. "will we meet next saturday?" "yes," answered sam, "and call it a week. let's throw in two days." and so the week was begun. on the next day, as sam green sat atop of his bench after dinner, he felt rather lost without his cigar, and for awhile he argued the question with himself, whether it wouldn't be just as well for him to put an extra quarter into his box and have his cigars as usual. but he remembered his pledge. he looked forward to saturday, when he should find himself an ambassador of mercy to the sick and needy--and his resolution grew strong again. that was his last real hesitation, though it must be confessed he had some trials and hankerings. and so with the rest, they had some moments of doubt and mental warfare with appetite and habit, but conquered, and were true. saturday came, and the six youths left their work at noon, having done more than enough overwork to make up for the loss of the half day. "must have a time once in awhile, eh?" said sam's boss, as the young man pointed to the work he had done, and informed him that he should not work the rest of the day. "some sort of a time," replied sam. "very well, but you're too good a fellow to go very deep into dissipation." "i'll be up bright in the morning, sir;" and with this he left. the new benevolent society met at walter mason's tin-shop. each took out his money and they had in all nine dollars, it being in thirty-six silver quarters. "now," says peter, "let's visit the three families we have taken under our charge. we'll go together, and expend the money as we see it is most needed. let us go to uncle israel's first." so off they went to uncle israel trask's. the old couple lived in a small hut at the edge of the village, which was reached by a narrow lane, and here the six philanthrophists found the old lady, who was now in her eightieth year, suffering with a severe attack of the rheumatism, while the old man sat crouched over the fire, shivering with cold. "good day, good day, uncle israel." "aha, good day, boys, good day," cried the old man, trying to smile. "can ye find seats? sit down somewhere and make yourselves at home. but ye see it's a poor home that old israel can offer ye to-day." "but how are you getting along?" asked peter, after the party had found seats. "ah, god a'mercy, i won't complain, for he is taking meself and molly home fast. only cold and hunger are not kind helpmates, mr. hobbs, ye ken that, eh?" "right well, uncle israel. and we have come to help you. do you want any medicine?" "nay, nay, the old 'ooman's got a' the medicine laid up we want. it's only the food an' heat we need. i can't wade through the drifting snow as i could once." "suppose we send you a dollar's worth of other things, such as butter, flour, potatoes and the like--could you live a week on it?" [illustration: pure religion is visiting the fatherless and widows in their affliction.] "ah, yes, yes, boys, meself and molly'd live a long, long while on that. but ye'll not do it for us." "yes, we will." "ah, it's too much." "no, no," cried sam, "we've got to do it, uncle israel, for we six have sworn to help you through the winter. so spunk up." "d'ye mean that?" uttered the old man, clasping his thin, tremulous hands. "we do," they all answered, and then sam added, "and while one of us lives, you shall not suffer the want of what one of us can give." a moment the old man bowed his snow-white head, and then while the big tears streamed down his face, he raised his eyes and murmured:-- "oh! god's blessin' be on ye, ye noble boys. if me heart was gold, an' i could take it out an' give it ye--for it's yours all, all your own!" in a little while the six went away, promising to send or come back soon, and even after they had reached the yard they could hear the voices of israel and his wife, both raised to god in blessings upon their heads. "i say, sam," said peter, "this is better than cigars and ale." "don't say a word now," replied sam, "for my heart's full, and i can't bear any more." next, they drove through the biting wind and snow to the humble cot of widow manley. they found her in the only habitable room of her dwelling, sitting by a fire of chips and fagots, with a babe asleep in her lap, and engaged in sewing a coarse frock. three other children were crouched by the fire, the eldest not yet eight years old. mr. manley had been one of the many unfortunates who are swept off by rum, and in the prime of early manhood he had gone, leaving a young wife with four children in absolute penury. "ah, good day, mrs. manley." the woman would have arisen, but sam green placed his hand upon her shoulders to keep her down. "we have come," said peter, seeing that she was anxious and fearful, "to see how you get along, and see if we can help you." "help me, sir?" uttered the widow with amazement. "yes; now tell us plainly how you are situated." the woman was silent for a few moments, but at length she seemed to regain her self-control, and replied:-- "ah, gentlemen, it is all comprised in three short words: hunger, cold, and nakedness!" "and if we will supply you with food and fuel for a week, can you manage to get along until that time without more clothing?" "oh--h--yes--sirs. but what is it? who can help us? who can care for the--" "we can, we will," cried the energetic sam, not so good to plan as peter, but good at execution. "we six have pledged ourselves to see you safe through the winter. so cheer up and take hope, for neither you nor your children shall suffer while we can help it." the widow's hands were clasped and her eyes wandered vacantly from one to the other of her strange visitors. she saw tears of goodness in their eyes, and her own soul's flood burst forth. "o god bless you--bless you always." "and we shall have something good to eat, mamma, and something to make us warm?" asked the eldest girl, clasping her mother's knees. "yes, yes, you shall," exclaimed drake, catching the child and kissing her clean, pale face. "you shall have it before supper time, too." the widow gradually realized the whole object of her visitors, and she tried to express her gratitude in words, but they failed her, and streaming tears had to tell the tale of thanks. after this our society went to see widow williams. hers was a neat cot, but they found suffering painful enough inside. philip, a youth of about their own age, sat in a large stuffed chair, looking pale and thin, and wasted away almost to a skeleton, and his great blue eyes peered at them wonderingly as they entered. the mother, too, looked careworn and sick, and the dry, hacking cough that sounded in her throat told how much she needed proper food and care. the youths made their business known as before, and with about the same result. the widow and her son could hardly realize that such a blessing had dawned upon them, but when they did realize it their joy and gratitude knew no bounds. "look here," said sam green, as soon as they had reached the road, "it strikes me that we are just about a week behind hand. we ought to have commenced this work just one week earlier than we did, for our nine dollars won't quite bring matters all up square to the present time. but if they were square now, they'd keep so with our weekly allowance." "you're right, sam," said fulton, gleefully. "then let's commence back two weeks, eh?" "i think so," said peter. and all the rest said so, too. so they had eighteen dollars instead of nine. first, our party went and bought three half cords of wood, which they sent at once to their respective destinations, and they agreed that when the other matters were attended to they would go and work it up. then they went to the stores and purchased such articles of provisions and comfort as they could agree were best adapted to meet the wants of their charges, and, having done this, they separated into three parties of two each, so as to have each family provided for with as little delay as possible. besides carrying provisions enough to last a week, they left with each about a dollar in change. when the poor people saw the promised blessing--when they thus met the fruition of their newly raised hopes, their joy was almost painful. the noble youths were blessed over and over again. the wood was sawed and split, and put under cover, and then the society returned to the village, as happy as happy could be. on the next day, they went to the church and heard how many heathen had been converted to the peculiar _isms_ of the preachers; and on the day following that, they commenced another week of their newly found _christianity_. "sam," said the owner of the machine-shop, "what were you and the rest of your party doing last saturday afternoon?" "converting the _heathen_," answered sam. his employer was a church member, and in for foreign missions, and moreover had often tried to induce sam into the mysteries. it was some time before sam would tell the secret, but his boss became so earnest that he at length told the whole story. for awhile the employer gazed upon his journeyman with wonder, but gradually, as a sense of the fact came over him, he hung his head. "sam," he said at length, earnestly, and with a tear in his eye, "let me join your society." "but how'll you raise the money?" inquired sam. "money?" echoed the boss. "look at my bank-book." "ah, but that won't answer. you must save the money by depriving yourself of some superfluity, or luxury you now enjoy." "is that the rule?" "it is most rigidly. our cigars and ale furnish us." "and won't you smoke again?" "never, while within the reach of my influence there's a human being in want!" "then i'll throw away my tobacco and beer; may i join at that?" "i'll propose you." and the master machinist was proposed and admitted. another week passed away, and the new christians went again on their mission, and there were more tears of joy, more prayers, and more blessings. mr. boothby, the machinist, had gained a new ray of light on the subject of christian missions. at length it became known that the poor families of madisonville had found friends. people were wonder-struck when they discovered how happy and joyous these once miserable wretches had become; and more still when, one sunday they saw uncle israel and his wife, and mrs. manley with her two elder children, enter the church. of course the truth leaked out, and we can imagine where the public eye of sympathy and appreciation was turned. before a month was out, more than fifty people had engaged indirectly in the work, by placing money, food, and clothing in the hands of the original six, for them to distribute as they deemed proper. but there was one rule to which the "society" adhered. they would not receive a cent in money which was not the result of a cutting off of some superfluity, and thus they showed to the people how simple and easy in its work is true charity, and also how many professed christians not only lose sight of duty, but really lose the greatest joy of christian life. it was a glorious day for madisonville when those six young mechanics met in the village barroom and concocted the plan for their society. and the good has worked in two ways. the members find themselves happier, healthier, and stronger, for having given up their pipes and cups; and the poor unfortunate ones of the town are once again basking in the sunlight of peace, content, and plenty. how very many professed christian churches there are in our land which would be benefited by following the example of the six noble youths who still stand at the head of the _madisonville benevolent society_. life that lasts. they err who measure life by years with false or thoughtless tongue. some hearts grow old before their time; others are always young. 'tis not the number of the lines on life's fast-filling page, 'tis not the pulse's added throbs which constitute their age. some souls are serfs among the free, while others nobly thrive; they stand just where their fathers stood, dead, even while they live. others, all spirit, heart, and sense, theirs the mysterious power to live in thrills of joy or woe a twelve-month in an hour. he liveth long who liveth well! all other life is short and vain; he liveth longest who can tell of living most for heavenly gain. he liveth long who liveth well! all else is being flung away; he liveth longest who can tell of true things truly done each day. an instructive anecdote most young people are very fond of display in dress. rings, breastpins, and similar superfluities, are in great demand among them. we have known a girl to spend a month's wages for a single article of this kind, and a young man to run in debt for a cane when he had scarcely clothing enough to appear respectable. the following story of a successful merchant will show to such how these things look to sensible people. said he: "i was seventeen years old when i left the country store where i had 'tended' for three years, and came to boston in search of a place. anxious, of course, to appear to the best advantage, i spent an unusual amount of time and solicitude upon my toilet, and when it was completed, i surveyed my reflection in the glass with no little satisfaction, glancing lastly and approvingly upon a seal ring which embellished my little finger, and my cane, a very pretty affair, which i had purchased with direct reference to this occasion. my first day's experience was not encouraging. i traveled street after street, up one side and down the other, without success. i fancied, toward the last, that the clerks all knew my business the moment i opened the door, and that they winked ill-naturedly at my discomfiture as i passed out. but nature endowed me with a good degree of persistency, and the next day i started again. toward noon i entered a store where an elderly gentleman was talking with a lady near by the door. i waited until the visitor had left and then stated my errand. "'no sir,' was the answer, given in a crisp and decided manner. possibly i looked the discouragement i was beginning to feel, for he added in a kindlier tone, 'are you good at taking a hint?' "'i don't know,' i answered, and my face flushed painfully. "'what i wished to say is this,' said he, looking me in the face and smiling at my embarrassment, 'if i were in want of a clerk, i would not engage a young man who came seeking employment with a flashy ring upon his finger, and swinging a cane.' "for a moment, mortified vanity struggled against common sense, but sense got the victory, and i replied, with rather shaky voice, 'i'm very much obliged to you,' and then beat a hasty retreat. as soon as i got out of sight, i slipped the ring into my pocket, and walking rapidly to the worcester depot i left the cane in charge of the baggage-master 'until called for.' it is there now, for aught i know. at any rate, i never called for it. that afternoon i obtained a situation with the firm of which i am now a partner. how much my unfortunate finery had injured my prospects on the previous day i shall never know, but i never think of the old gentleman and his plain-dealing with me, without always feeling, as i told him at the time, 'very much obliged to him.'" reaping. while the years are swiftly passing, as we watch them come and go, do we realize the maxim, we must reap whate'er we sow? when the past comes up before us, all our thoughts, our acts and deeds, shall they glean for us fair roses, or a harvest bear of weeds? are we sowing seeds to blossom? we shall reap some day,--somewhere, just what here we have been sowing, worthless weeds or roses fair. all around us whispering ever, hear the voice of nature speak, teaching all the self-same lesson, "as you sow so shall you reap." though there's pardon for each sinner in god's mercy vast and mild, yet the law that governs nature, governs e'en fair nature's child. why he didn't smoke. the son of mr. jeremy lord, aged fourteen, was spending the afternoon with one of his young friends, and his stay was prolonged into the evening, during which some male friends of the family dropped in. the boys withdrew into the recess of the bay window, at the end of the room, and the men went on chatting about the most important matters of the day, politics, etc. still apparently entertaining each other, the two boys yet kept their ears open, as boys will, and, taking their cue from the sentiments expressed by their elders, indorsed one or the other as they happened to agree with them. "gentlemen, will you smoke?" asked mr. benedict, the host. a simultaneous "thank you," went round, and a smile of satisfaction lighted all faces but one. not that he was gloomy, or a drawback on the rest, but his smile was not one of assent. a box of cigars was soon forthcoming, costly and fragrant, as the word goes. "fine cigar," said one, as he held it to his nose, before lighting. "what, linton, you don't smoke?" "i'm happy to say i do not," was the firm rejoinder. "well, now, you look like a smoking man, jolly, care free, and all that. i'm quite surprised," said another. "we are hardly doing right, are we," asked a rubicund-visaged man, who puffed away heartily "to smoke in the parlor? i condone that much to my wife's dislike of the weed. she makes a great ado about the curtains, you know." "for my part, that's a matter i don't trouble myself about," said the host, broadly. "there's no room in this house too good for me and my friends to smoke in. my wife has always understood that, and she yields, of course." "but you don't know how it chokes her," said young hal benedict. "yes, indeed, it gets all through the house, you know, and she almost always goes into aunt nellie's when there are two or three smoking. there she goes now," he added, as the front door closed. "why, it's absolutely driving her out of the house, isn't it?" asked johnny. "too bad!" "why don't you smoke, dalton?" queried one of the party. "'fraid of it? given it up lately? it don't agree with some constitutions." "well, if you want to know why i don't smoke, friend jay," was the answer, "i will tell you, i respect my wife too much." "why, you don't mean--" stammered his questioner. "i mean simply what i said. when i was married i was addicted to the use of cigars. i saw that the smoke annoyed her, though she behaved with the utmost good taste and forbearance, and cut down my cigars so as to smoke only when going and returning from business. i then considered what my presence must be to a delicate and sensitive woman, with breath and clothes saturated with the odor, and i began to be disgusted with myself, so that i finally dropped the habit, and i can't say i'm sorry." "i shouldn't be, i know," said another, admiringly. "i'm candid enough to own it, and i think your wife ought to be very much obliged to you." "on the contrary, it is i who ought to be obliged to my wife," said mr. dalton, while the host smoked on in silence, very red in the face, and evidently wincing under the reproof that was not meant. "i say that dalton is a brick," whispered young benedict. "he's splendid!" supplemented johnny, who was thinking his own thoughts while the smoke was really getting too much for him, and presently he took his leave. the next day johnny was thoughtful, so quiet, indeed, that everybody noticed it, and in the evening, when his father lighted his pipe with its strong tobacco, johnny seemed on thorns. "i can't think that you don't respect mother," he blurted out, and then his face grew scarlet. "what do you mean?" asked his father, in a severe voice. "i say, what do you mean, sir?" "because mother hates the smoke so; because it gets into the curtains and carpet--and--and because i heard mr. dalton last night give as a reason that he did not smoke that he respected his wife too much." "pshaw! your mother don't mind my smoking--do you, mother?" he asked, jocularly, as his wife entered just then. "well--i--i used to rather more than i do now. one can get accustomed to anything, i suppose, so i go on the principle that what can't be cured must be endured." "nonsense! you know i could stop to-morrow if i wanted to," he laughed. "but you won't want to," she said, softly. i don't know whether johnny's father gave up the weed. most likely not; but if you want to see what really came of it, i will give you a peep at the following paper, written some years ago, and which happens to be in my possession. "i, john lord, of sound mind, do make, this first day of january, , the following resolutions, which i pray god i may keep:-- "_first._ i will not get married till i own a house, for i expect my uncle will give me one, one of these days; mother says he will. "_second._ i will never swear, because it is silly, as well as wicked. "_third._ i will never smoke and so make myself disagreeable to everybody who comes near me, and i will always keep these words as my motto after i am married: "'i don't smoke, because i respect my wife.' mr. dalton said that, and i will never forget it. "(signed) john lord." and johnny kept his word like a hero. the world will never adjust itself to suit your whims to the letter. some things must go wrong your whole life long, and the sooner you know it the better. --_ella wheeler wilcox_ story of school life "oh, girls! i shall just die, i know i shall!" exclaimed belle burnette, going off into a hysterical fit of laughter, which she vainly tried to smother behind an elegant lace-edged handkerchief. "what is it, you provoking thing? why don't you tell us, so we can laugh too?" "well--you--see," she gasped out at last, "we've got a new pupil--the queerest looking thing you ever saw. i happened to be in madam's room when she arrived. she came in the stage, and had a mite of an old-fashioned hair trunk, not much bigger than a bandbox, and she came into madam's room with a funny little basket in her hand, and sat down as if she had come to stay forever. she said, 'are you madam gazin?' 'yes,' she replied, 'that is my name.' 'well, i've come to stay a year at your school.' and then she pulled a handkerchief out of her basket, and unrolled it till she found an old leather wallet, and actually took out $ and laid it in madam's hand, saying, 'that is just the amount, i believe; will you please give me a receipt for it?' you never saw madam look so surprised. she actually didn't know what to say for a minute, but she gave her the receipt, asked a few questions, and had her taken to no. , and there she is now, this very minute." "well, what was there so funny about all that?" "why this: she has red hair, tucked into a black net, and looks just like a fright, every way. she had on a brown delaine dress, without a sign of a ruffle, or trimming of any kind, and the shabbiest hat and shawl you ever saw. you'll laugh, too, when you see her." belle burnette was an only child, and her wealthy father was pleased to gratify her every whim. so, besides being far too elegantly dressed for a schoolgirl, she was supplied with plenty of pocket-money, and being very generous, and full of life and fun, she was the acknowledged leader among madam's pupils. when the tea-bell rang, the new-comer was escorted to the dining-room, and introduced to her schoolmates as miss fannie comstock. she had exchanged her brown delaine for a plain calico dress, with a bit of white edging about the neck. she did look rather queer, with her small, thin, freckled face, and her red hair brushed straight back from her face, and hidden as much as possible under a large black net, and but for the presence of madam her first reception would have been exceedingly unpleasant. she was shy and awkward, and evidently ill at ease among so many strangers. as soon as possible she hastened back to the seclusion of her own room. the next day she was examined, and assigned to her place in the different classes, and to the surprise of all she was far in advance of those of her age. but this did not awaken the respect of her schoolmates as it should have done. on the contrary, belle burnette and her special friends were highly incensed about it, and at once commenced a series of petty annoyances, whenever it was safe to do so, which kept poor fannie miserable, indeed, although she seemed to take no notice of it. a few weeks passed by. her lessons were always perfectly recited. she made no complaint of the slights and sneers of her companions, but kept out of their way as much as possible. her thin face grew paler, however, and there were dark rings about her eyes. a watchful friend would have seen that all these things were wearing cruelly upon her young life. one saturday the very spirit of wickedness seemed let loose among them. madam was away, and the other teachers were busy in their rooms. fannie had been out for a walk and was near the door of her room when a dozen or more of the girls surrounded her, clasping hands together so she was a prisoner in their midst. for a moment she begged piteously to be released, but they only laughed the more, and began going around, singing something which belle had composed--cruel, miserable, insulting words. she stood for an instant pale and still, then, with a piercing cry, she burst through the ring, and rushed into her room, closed and locked the door. through their wild peals of laughter the girls heard a strange moan and a heavy fall. "i believe she has fainted," said belle. "what shall we do?" said another. for a moment they stood there sober enough; then one of them ran for the matron and told her that fannie comstock had fainted in her room and the door was locked. she had a long ladder put to the window, and sent the janitor to see if it was true. fortunately the window was open, and in a few moments he had unlocked the door from the inside. the girls were huddled together in a frightened group, while madam lifted the poor girl and laid her upon her bed. she was in violent spasms. the doctor was sent for, but when the spasms ceased, alarming symptoms set in, and he pronounced it a serious case of brain fever. it is impossible to tell the shame and remorse of the conscience stricken girls. they were not brave enough to confess their guilt, but hung around the sick room, offering their services, vainly wishing that they might atone for it in some way. but their presence only excited the poor sufferer, so that they were all sent away. day after day passed, and still she raved in violent delirium. the little hair trunk was searched to find some clue to her friends, but there was nothing found in it but the plainest, scantiest supply of clothes. day after day the doctor came, looking grave and anxious, and at last the crisis came. for many hours she lay as if dead, and not a noise was permitted to disturb the awful silence while they waited to see if she would live or die. at last she opened her eyes; and the suspense was relieved by an assuring word from the doctor, that with careful nursing she would soon be well again. but her convalescence was slow and tedious. her former tormentors dared not speak of what they had done, but they sent daily little bouquets of fragrant flowers and other delicacies to tempt her returning appetite. her eyes would light up with surprise and pleasure at the little gifts. and amidst all her wild ravings not a word of complaint at the ill treatment she had received ever escaped her lips. one day madam was sitting by her side, and as fannie seemed to be much stronger, she ventured to ask after her friends. "i have no friends, madam, only cousin john, who has a large family of his own, and has never cared for me. mother died when i was born. i had a step-mother, but father died five years after, and i've taken care of myself ever since." "and you are only fifteen now?" "yes, ma'am." "how did you get money enough to pay for a year's board and tuition here?" "i earned it all, madam, every cent of it. as soon as i was big enough i went into a factory, and earned two dollars a week at first, and finally $ . ; and i worked for my board nights and mornings." "poor child!" "oh no, ma'am, i was very glad to do it." "but how did you keep along so well with your studies?" "i used to fix a book open on my loom, where i could catch a sentence now and then, and the overseer did not object, because i always did my work well. you see, madam, i wanted to be a teacher some time, and i'd have a better chance to learn here than anywhere else, so i determined to do it." "what are your plans for the long vacation?" "i must go back to the factory and earn enough to get some warmer clothes for the winter. you see, madam, why i can't afford to dress better." madam's heart was full. she bent over the white, thin little face, and kissed it reverently. that evening, when the girls gathered in the chapel for worship, she told fannie's story. there was not a dry eye in the room. the moment madam finished, belle burnette sprang up with the tears pouring down her cheeks, and said: "oh, madam! we have been awfully cruel and wicked to that poor girl. we have made fun of her from the first, and she would not have been sick as she was if we had not tormented her almost to death. i was the most to blame. it was i that led on the rest, and we have suffered terribly all these weeks, fearing she might die. you may expel me, or punish me in any way you please; for i deserve it; and i shall go down on my knees to ask her pardon, as soon as you will let me see her." "my child, i am shocked to hear this. i can scarcely believe that any of my pupils would ill-treat a companion because she was so unfortunate as to be plain and poor. but you have made a noble confession, and i forgive you as freely as i believe she will, when she knows how truly you have repented of your unkindness." by degrees, as she was able to bear it, one after another went to fannie and begged her forgiveness, which was freely granted. she said, "i don't wonder you made fun of me. i know i was poorly dressed, _and awful homely_. i would have pulled every hair out of my head long ago, only i knew it would grow out as red as ever. but, oh! if i could have felt that i had just one friend among you all, i could have borne it; but somehow it just broke my heart to have you all turn against me." after this she gained rapidly, and one fine morning the doctor said she might join the girls in the drawing-room for an hour before tea. there had been a vast deal of whispering and hurrying to and fro of late, among the girls, of which fannie had been totally unconscious in the quiet seclusion of her room. at the appointed time, madam herself came to assist her, and leaning upon her strong arms, the young girl walked feebly through the long hall and down the stairs. "my dear, the girls have planned a little surprise for you, to make the hour as pleasant as possible." she opened the door and seated fannie in an easy chair, and the girls came gliding in, with smiling faces, singing a beautiful song of welcome. at its close belle burnette approached and placed a beautiful wreath of flowers upon her head, saying: "dear fannie, we crown you our queen to-day, knowing well how far above us all you are in his sight, who looketh upon the heart instead of the outward appearance. you have taught us a lesson we shall never forget, and we beg you to accept a token of sincere love and repentance for our treatment of you in the past, which you will find in your room on your return." fannie's eyes were full of tears, and she tried to say a word in reply, but madam spoke for her, and after another song they followed their newly crowned queen to the dining-room, where a most tempting feast was laid in honor of the occasion. fannie was quietly, tearfully happy through it all, yet so wearied with the unusual excitement that madam said she must not see the girls' "peace-offering" that night. the first thing she saw the next morning was a fine large trunk, and lying upon it a card, "for miss fannie comstock, from her teacher and schoolmates." having opened it, she saw it was packed full of newly folded garments, but she had no time to examine the contents, until after breakfast, when they left her alone with her wonderful gifts. there were pretty dresses and sacques, a fine new parasol, gloves and ribbons, cuffs and collars in abundance--indeed, everything that a young schoolgirl could possibly need. every one of madam's two hundred and ten pupils had contributed from their choicest and best, to furnish a complete outfit for their less favored mate. at the bottom was a well-filled writing-desk, an album containing all their pictures, and a pretty purse containing five dollars, and the following note from madam: "my dear child: this shall be a receipt in full for all expenses, during whatever time you may choose to remain in the seminary, which i present to you as a sincere token of my love and respect. "jeannette gazin." they found her at dinner time on the floor, surrounded by her new treasures, crying like a baby; but it did her good. she was soon able to resume her studies, and was ever afterward treated with kindness and consideration, even though all her hair came out and left her head bald as her face, so she had to wear a queer, cap-like wig for many weeks. when the long vacation arrived, belle carried her off to her beautiful home on the hudson, where for the first time in her life she was surrounded with beauty and luxury on every side, and was treated as a loved and honored guest. it was not long before the hateful wig was cast aside, and fannie's head was covered with a profusion of dark auburn curls, which were indeed a crown of glory that made her plain face almost beautiful. gentle, loving, and beloved by all, she remained in the seminary until she graduated with honor, after which madam offered her the position of head teacher, with a most liberal salary, which she gratefully accepted. there are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, there are souls that are pure and true, then give to the world the best you have, and the best will come back to you. give love, and love to your life will flow, a strength in your utmost need. have faith, and a score of hearts will show their faith in your word and deed. give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind, and honor will honor meet, and a smile that is sweet will surely find a smile that is just as sweet. for life is the mirror of old king slave; 'tis just what we say or do, then give to the world the best you have, and the best will come back to you. grandmother's room. john lyman was what his neighbors and townsfolk called a "hard-fisted" man; and he had earned the name by dint of persevering stinginess from boyhood up. he and his good wife phoebe had accumulated a snug little property, besides the many-acred farm which was to be his when "grandmother" should relinquish her claim to all earthly possessions. so he was really able to live in comfort; but, instead of that, the old red farmhouse, which was his father's before him, was a model of angularity, unadorned and unattractive, both inside and out, only preserving a decent aspect through phoebe's thrift and neatness. six little ones made music in the old house, save when their father was there. his presence always seemed to send a chill to their little warm hearts; for he made them feel that they were "bills of expense," and whenever they clamored for pretty things he told them that they "cost money," and sent them away with a reproof for their desires. and yet john lyman claimed that he was _just_. "don't i pay the minister two dollars every single year?" he would say when the puzzled collectors came to him, bank-book in hand. of course he did; and, if the reverend gentleman was a smart preacher, he added a peck of beans to his annual subscription, although this came a little hard when the harvest was poor. not being a church member, he didn't feel called to give to the "heathen," as he was wont to style all benevolent objects of whatever character; and it was generally understood that the two dollars were given on grandmother's account. dear grandmother lyman! known and loved by everybody in peltonville, she was peacemaker, adviser, and, in fact, condensed sunshine in john's household from january to december. she was a _christian_, too; and john was glad of that, for he believed that she and the bible were good in case of sickness or death; and, to tell the truth, he had a vague idea that she would see that he had a place in heaven sometime, after he had grown old and tired of this world. but grandmother lyman knew better than this; and morning, noon, and night, her prayers ascended for him, her only remaining child, and his family. one would suppose that such a mother would have every want supplied, even by a _penurious_ son. but oh! the love of gain had so eaten into john's best affections that it sometimes seemed as if he had forgotten all claims upon him! so it was very trying to ask a favor of him, and his mother denied herself many a necessity before doing it. something more than usually important troubled her mind, however, on one bright spring morning as she sat by the kitchen fire. all the funny little wrinkles in her dear old face, which were generally only telegraph lines for smiles to run over, were sobered by some weighty consideration. her knitting-work lay idle in her lap; and she did not even notice that little tillie had pulled two of the needles out, nor that mischievous nick was sawing away on the back of her chair with his antiquated pocket-knife. whatever the problem was, it troubled her all the forenoon; but after dinner she followed john to the door, and, said she, "i've been thinking, john, couldn't i have a little room somewhere all to myself? i'm going on seventy-eight now, you know, and the children get pretty noisy sometimes; and i thought, maybe, if it wouldn't be too much trouble--" "hem! well, really, grandma'm," taking off his hat and scratching his head dubiously, "the children do make a precious hubbub here, that's a fact. but i declare! well, i'll see." and john went to the field. as result of the "seeing," on the next rainy day there was heard the noise of hammer and saw in a chamber over the kitchen. this chamber had never been finished or used save as a place in which to store old rubbish of all kinds, and was a gloomy, out-of-the-way room at best. grandmother lyman looked rather sober over the prospect; and phoebe wanted to interfere, but as that was against the rules of the house, john worked on in his own way, until, at the end of two days, and after phoebe had made several journeys up and down the back-stairs, grandmother was told that her room was ready. the dear old lady dragged herself up to the little chamber, while two little tots came scrambling after, bearing her bible, hymn-book, wesley's sermons, and knitting-work. but it was no "palace of beauty" which she found awaiting her. the room was low, slanting on one side, unpapered, uncarpeted, and only lighted by two little dormer-windows, which did their best to admit pure daylight in spite of the dark gingham curtains so trimly hung before them. a bed stood in one corner, before which was a braided rug, while a stove with two good legs occupied the center of the room. grandmother looked out at the windows, but the view was not pleasant; two barns, the watering trough, and the fashionable summer resort of the ducks and geese, that was all. she was not one to complain; but she sadly missed the grand sweep of mountain and valley which had greeted her eyes from the "fore-door" ever since she was brought there a happy bride. turning to arrange her books on the little table, she sang, in her wavering way, "thus far the lord hath led me on;" and, before the verse was finished, her heart was at peace again. "doin to stay up here all 'lone, g'anma?" said wee tillie in pitying accents. "o no! i guess you and nick will come up real often, won't you?" "i dess so; but 'taint very pitty," said the little one, as she trotted down-stairs again. meanwhile, john, as he followed the plow, was thinking of the five dollars expended in repairing the room, and trying to persuade himself that he was indeed a worthy son. "five dollars! it aint every one that would do as much for his mother as i do for mine," he soliloquized. "too old to go up-stairs! oh well, when she once gets up she is more out of the way; and she wants quiet, you know." be it known that john sometimes found it necessary to reason with himself in order to assure his conscience that everything was as it should be in her domain; and sometimes, as on this occasion, she asked so many questions that he was obliged to talk the livelong afternoon. he retired that night thinking, "five dollars for grandma'm's room and the mare lame in both forefeet!" but while these dismal thoughts filled his mind, his body seemed to be very suddenly transported to the kitchen below. he was not alone, however, for a woman was there before him, walking the floor with a child in her arms. back and forth she paced, carefully holding the pale-faced boy in the same position while he slept. "ruth," said a voice from an adjoining room, "that little chap will wear you all out. can't i take him a little while?" "o no," was the reply. "he likes to have me carry him so, poor little fellow." "ah," said john to himself, "that's the way mother carried me six nights, when i got scalded so terribly." the scene changed, and he saw himself again. a crushed foot this time, demanding his mother's untiring care. again and again incidents of his life were re-enacted before him, but always with his mother there, comforting, working, watching, or praying. whether sick in body or in mind, he saw how, all through his life, a mother's tender love had surrounded him. and then he stood once more beside his father's death-bed, and heard again the solemn charge: "be kind to your mother, john, and make her old age pleasant. she is all you've got now." with these words ringing in his ears john lyman awoke to find the perspiration standing on his forehead, and a strange, weird sensation resting on him like a spell, which he tried in vain to throw aside. he tried to compose his mind, and again to sleep; but though nothing peculiarly frightful had troubled his slumber, he trembled from head to foot. in fact, conscience so long soothed and stifled, had with a terrible effort freed herself, and determined to make one more effort for john's soul. she lashed him unmercifully. she showed him how his soul was growing smaller and meaner every day--how he was just a plague-spot on god's fair earth. he saw himself in a mirror that reflected the inmost recesses of his heart, and he was horrified at sight of the foulness so long concealed. as the hours wore slowly on toward the day, john grew to hate himself more and more, until, almost stifled in-doors, he rose and went out. everything wore that unreal look that the first faint twilight gives. mysterious and still the mists lay along the foot of the mountain, while the stars twinkled in the sky that seemed very, very far away. from force of habit john lyman strode into the yard where the cattle were; but they only stared at him sleepily, as they lay tranquilly chewing the cud; so he wandered out and down the path that led into the little maple grove, which had been a playground for three generations. as he passed slowly along under the solemn trees, his boyhood days came back to him so fresh that the twoscore years of hard, grinding toil, flew away as by magic. oh, that happy, careless boyhood! how had its golden promises been fulfilled! a blush of shame rose to the man's cheek as he thought how hard and cold his heart had grown. hundreds of times he had stood beside the little stream which he had now reached, without noticing a trace of beauty; but now, as the sun lighted the distant mountain-top with a glow that crept over its sides, a gladdening, awakening glow, seen only in the spring, it seemed as though he had never looked upon the scene before. so new, so beautiful! and a wonderful sense of god's nearness stole over him, such as he had not felt before for years, and, at the same time, a new love for his mother, who had so long been the only bible he read, filled his heart, like a fresh revelation from the father. the lowing of the cattle recalled him to himself, and he turned homeward, passed up the lane into the barn, and was soon throwing hay into the mangers below. suddenly he stopped, thrust his pitchfork deep into the hay, and said: "my mother _shall_ have a better room than that if it costs _five hundred dollars_! now that's so! hurrah!" good once more had triumphed over evil, as the experience of the morning culminated in this worthy resolution. soon the patter of childish feet was heard, and tillie cried, "pa, pa, mother wants to know where you be, 'cause she's been worryin' about you, fear you's sick, and breakses is all gettin' cold this minute. boiled eggs, too, aint it, ruth?" "i'll be in directly," came the answer from the high mow; so happy, chattering, tillie and quiet ruth climbed down the high steps and started toward the house. their father overtook them as they stopped to look at the ducks taking their morning bath, and catching tillie up, he put her on his shoulder, then drew down the little face and kissed the fresh, sweet lips. "how natural!" one may say. no, not natural for john lyman, whose children feared far more than they loved him. tillie was astonished and half frightened, and as she began to wriggle uneasily, her father set her gently down. in a trice she was beside ruth, and pulling her head down she whispered in her ear, "pa just kissed me all his own self, ruth." "did he?" said ruth, opening her eyes very wide. then she hurried on and walked close by her father's side, while at her little heart fluttered the hope that she too might receive a kiss. but she was not noticed; and very much grieved she shrank away wondering if he loved tillie best. "i dreamed of your father last night, john," said grandmother while they were at breakfast, "and you can't think how good and natural he looked." john didn't say anything. during the forenoon john had a long conference with his wife which seemed to be satisfactory, for as he left her he said, "well, then, you take the things out this afternoon, and johnson shall come over to do the painting to-morrow." before night the cheerful little spare room which adjoined the parlor was empty, and the old-fashioned paper, with its ever-recurring pictures of a shepherdess, a hunter, and rebecca at the well, stripped from the walls. silence was imposed upon the children, for "grandma'm mustn't know," and the little things went round the house fairly aching with the importance of their secret, and holding on to themselves for fear they might tell. mysterious trips were taken in the old market-wagon, and a suspicious smell of new things filled the air; but when grandmother inquired what was going on down-stairs, ruth clapped both hands over her mouth and tillie screamed, "o nuffin, grandma, on'y--o ruthie, come down, quick!" one bright may afternoon, however, the work was finished, and john, jealous of the privilege, donned his sunday coat and stumbled up to his mother's room in the most awkward manner to break the news. "mother, can you come down below a few minutes now?" said he, trying to appear unconcerned. "why, la me!" smoothing her "front" and refolding her neckerchief, "has the minister come? i aint fixed up one bit." "no, no, mother, there's no occasion for fixin' up. it aint much of anything, only me--that is,--well, perhaps you'd better come now." "john," said the old lady solemnly, laying her hand on his arm, "if it's bad news, just tell me right away. the lord will give me strength to bear it, just as he has the dispensations all along." poor john! how to acquaint the old lady with this "dispensation" he didn't know; but tillie came to the rescue. "o g'anma," said she, seizing one of the wrinkled hands, "we can't wait another minute. it's all splendid; and nick, and ruth, and baby, and i have all got our clean aprons on, and wesley, he's in, so come straight down," and timing her impatient hops to the tottering footsteps she guided, tillie soon had grandmother in the midst of a smiling group, while the relieved father brought up the rear. "now, g'anma," said ruth, seizing the free hand, "shut up your eyes tight till we say open 'em," and then the delighted children, followed by the rest of the family, drew her into the old spare room. "now, now, g'anma, open, open! and what do you see?" they cried, dancing and clapping their hands. grandmother looked around her in perfect amazement. truly a wondrous change had been wrought! beautiful light paper covered the walls, and a bright, soft carpet the floor, while pretty shades hung before the four great windows, whose tassels swung back and forth in the sweet may air like bells, dumb for joy. "john, john, what does this mean?" "it's your room, g'anma," shouted a chorus of voices. "why, this is good enough for a queen! you can't mean it all for a poor old creature like me," and the darling old lady's eyes began to run over with happy tears, while john tried in vain to find voice to answer, and dear, patient phoebe sobbed outright. "why, g'anma," shouted little nick at the top of his voice, "i shouldn't think you'd cry, 'cause this is the cutest room in the house; and when me and wes comes in, we've got to take off our boots and talk real soft. and oh, just look at this table-cloth and this rug! it feels like velvet! and this stool--do you see?--it's got a cat's foot on every one of its legs. that's to put you foot on, you know; and, o say, can't we play puss in the corner sometimes if we're easy?" "g'anma, i can almost smell the roses," said ruth, patting the paper. so with the help of the children the room was christened, everything examined and praised, and at last the noisy little troop withdrew. then grandmother lyman, with a sense of exquisite comfort, sank into the nice, new arm-chair close to the window. "like it pretty well, do you?" queried john, as he took another chair near her. "like it? it seems too good to be real. i've thought sometimes that perhaps in my mansion--heavenly, you know--i should find everything soft, and bright, and cozy like; but to have a room like this here on earth, why, john, i can't tell you how thankful i feel. 'twas lonesome up garret there, and yesterday i dragged in the old cradle and the little wheel to make it seem more social like; but the cradle was empty and broken, and the wheel brought back the old days when i used to sit and spin, while your father husked corn; so they didn't cheer me up much. but i never mistrusted what you was doing down here for me. john, i believe nothing but the spirit of god could have coaxed you into this. don't you think i'll see you a christian yet before i die?" and the anxious mother laid her trembling hand on her son's big brown one. "well, mother, i don't know;" then came a long pause, for the farmer, almost as silent habitually as the fields he tilled, could find no words to express his feelings. "i've been feelin' kind of queer lately, and seems as if everything has changed wonderfully. 'twas a shabby trick, my putting you up in that old room, and it troubled me considerably one night, and then other things kept coming up, till--well--i believe i'm the worst man on earth. speaking of being a christian, i guess likely i might fly about as easy. i wish i was an out-and-out one; but i tell you what, mother, there aint a man in town but that would think i pretended it all so's to make a dollar out of somebody;" and john drew his hand across his eyes, as though there were tears starting somewhere which must be warned to keep away from the windows. grandmother didn't care if the tears did come in her eyes, for they were joyful ones. [illustration: grandmother's room.] "well, the lord would know better," said she comfortingly, "and by and by others would. it'll be your works, as well as your words, that will tell if you're in earnest." "that's so, mother, that's so; the minister said that very thing last sabbath. he's been preaching right at me this two months, and it made me mad at first. i thought i wouldn't give him a cent this year, but i guess he told the truth." "yes, of course he did. that's what he's made for. but now, john, you won't give up seeking until you get the blessing, will you? promise me this and one thing more. don't let the love of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, tempt you to give way to satan for one minute." "well, i'll see what i can do, but it looks like a great task before me." and john really felt as though he was preparing for a stern conflict. he went out to his work again, while grandmother lyman knelt down on the soft, bright carpet, the sunset light falling around her, and sent a prayer up to the father's throne so full of thanksgiving and love that the answer was not delayed, but came, bringing peace and joy to her trusting heart. pretty soon phoebe came stealing in with a look of apprehension resting upon her countenance. "mother," said she, sinking into the first chair she reached, "i'm afraid john's going to die." "my child, what do you mean?" queried the old lady, pushing her spectacles to the top of her head. "because he's changed so lately. fixing up this room, you know, and being so gentle like--what can it mean unless he's going to die?" "don't worry, phoebe, john's just getting ready to live. i tell you, daughter, he's experiencing religion." a flash of joy lighted up phoebe's worn face as she spoke. "do you think so, mother? oh, if it only could be true!" a cry from the kitchen called her thither again, but her heart was light, and old hymns sprang unbidden to her lips, all tuned to the upgushing happiness within. the little ones caught the infection, and capered up and down the old kitchen, until wearied out they dropped off to sleep and to bed. that day saw the beginning of true happiness in the old red farmhouse. not but that john passed through many fierce struggles, for the world acquires a strong hold in forty-five years, but with god's help he gained the victory; and humble and happy, one week later he called his little family together, and told them of his new hopes and purposes. we can not describe that scene, but surely the angels saw and rejoiced over it. then once more, before his friends and neighbors in prayer-meeting, with trembling voice he related his experience. tears and "amens" greeted it, all testifying to the spirit of true brotherly love. some, to be sure, there were who said, "can the leopard change his spots?" but when, sabbath after sabbath, they saw that the head of the "lyman pew" neither pretended to be asleep, nor to have forgotten his wallet when the much-abused green contribution bag swung along, but instead deposited therein the freshest scrip, they said, "truly, this is the lord's doings, and is marvelous in our eyes." perhaps the story of the change at home is about as tillie whispered it in the ear of a confidential friend. "you see pa asks a blessin' now 'fore we eats; and then we read the bible; and he prays the lord to keep us good all the day long; and so we grow gooder and gooder. pa bought mother a new black silk dress the other day, and oh, he's so much lovinger than he ever was before!" yes, he was "lovinger," as tillie called him, for truly he had passed from death unto life. the old homestead, too, soon began to change visibly. the shades of ugliness that had so long hung over it vanished away. its very angles seemed to grow less acute, and never, in its palmiest days, had it rejoiced in such bright coats of paint. but, with all the brightening up without and within, there was one most cozy place of all where the family was wont to assemble each sabbath evening. "seem's though it's always full of rainbows," nick said; but that must have been owing to the blessed influence of her who sat there, for this dearest of all nooks was "grandmother's room." god has not promised skies ever blue, flower-strewn pathways always to you; god has not promised sun without rain, joy without sorrow, peace without pain; but god has promised strength from above, unfailing sympathy, undying love. the young musician jonas johnson was the youngest son of an organ-builder in new england. he was a small, quiet boy, in no way remarkable except in his passion for harmonies. so great was his love for music, that from his most tender years he could not listen unmoved to the singing of his sisters as they went about their homely work; and if the voices happened to be discordant he ran shuddering from the sound. the choir of untutored singers in church services made tears fall from his eyes upon his hymn-book while he joined his small voice with theirs. although jonas let his tears fall unwittingly, the organ-builder saw them and treasured them in his heart. when the boy had reached his eleventh year the family left the country town and came to live in new york. here the father determined to let his son learn the organ. "remember, jonas," said he, "i am a poor man, and can ill afford to go into this expense unless you do the work before you manfully and patiently. i give you this profession instead of a trade because i believe it to be your wish." jonas was entirely satisfied, and his slim fingers quivered in the anticipation of one day being able to move those mysterious white and black keys to the sound and measure of _te deums_ and chants. a teacher was selected whose manner of educating was thorough and profound. at the first lesson jonas became unequivocally assured that the business was a serious one, when after a third time striking g instead of g-sharp, the heavy, quick blow of the master's stick hummed and stung across his hands as they hovered over the organ keys. poor little fingers! they could work no more that day--they were stiffened and red. he wept so profusely that he was requested to retire and to return in two days. all the way home he sobbed, and held his hands suspended from the wrists, a most pitiable object. "ah! you old ruffian!" soliloquized the tearful pupil, "won't my father give it to you for this?" he found his father in the workshop. "well," cried the organ-builder, "how went the lesson?" he saw there had been trouble. jonas with fresh tears showed his chafed fingers and told the event. the father listened with darkened brow, and when the sad tale was ended he solemnly led his son into a back room, and after inflicting a thorough corporal punishment, warned him in a terrible voice never again to complain of his master. our hero felt for a while that this was almost beyond human endurance, and for several hours he lay upon a pile of shavings plotting vengeance upon those he considered his worst enemies, when a sudden thrill shot through him at the sound of the rich organ tones. they came from his father's wareroom. evidently a master hand was there. jonas sat up and listened. it was the portion of a prelude by sebastian bach, and the marvelous harmonies seemed to speak to jonas as the voice of a spirit. he rose upon his feet, and his whole soul trembled with the wonderful words it spoke to him, though as yet he hardly understood their meaning. he went to the door and gently opened it. the back of the high organ stood opposite to him. he did not wish to be observed, and he passed quietly along at the end of the large room until he saw the musician. could it be the master? yes, jonas recognized the long curling beard, and even the _baton_ as it lay upon a chair. amidst the glowing chords the boy contrived to pass on unnoticed. he remembered that in two days he must again present himself. could that terrible personage be confronted with an imperfect scale? the very thought was a shudder. besides, jonas felt an inspiration now. he again burned to be a musician. the revengeful spirit had left him--he thought only of sebastian bach. a small organ had been placed in the little garret where jonas slept. thither he repaired, and commenced the work that ever since he has performed so well. the dreaded master found no fault with the next lesson, and as jonas advanced and he perceived that he studied with a zeal, an earnestness quite unusual in a boy, his stern manner relaxed, and he dared allow all the warmth of his heart to cheer his now beloved pupil. at the end of five months jonas met with a great misfortune. his master, after a short and sudden illness, died--which so cut him down that the organ-builder feared for his son's health. the boy stoutly refused to work under any other teacher, assuring the family that he felt able now to go on alone. early morning and late evening found the young musician at his organ in the garret. those who read this biography will scarcely believe how great was his progress. but i state facts. just after he had entered his twelfth year he happened to overhear two men, in a music store, conversing about a church in the upper part of the city, where the organist was to leave in a few weeks. jonas listened. "he plays in too operatic a style to suit the congregation," said one. "yes," said the other, "the simpler the playing the better they are pleased." "where is the church?" asked jonas. "it is saint c----'s, in ---- street." jonas returned to his organ, swelling with a new and great idea. the following sabbath morning he went very early to the church. no person had arrived except the organist who was arranging music in the loft. jonas stepped up the stairway and came round in front where he could see the selections. the organist turned at the intrusion. "what do you want here, sir?" said he. "i heard there was to be a vacancy, sir." "and do you know of one who wishes to occupy it?" "i should like it." "you?" "yes, i am an organist." this simple reply brought a smile to the lips of the questioner. he pointed to a page in the service, and said "play that." and giving up his seat to jonas, he went to the side to blow the bellows. feeling nervous and anxious, jonas began--at first tremulously, but gaining courage with every chord, he successfully accomplished the task, while the organist ran from the bellows to the music, and from the music to the bellows again in surprise. at the conclusion they both drew a long breath. "well, that is remarkable!" said the organist. "and you want the vacancy?" "very much," replied jonas, trembling with pleasure. "then come here this afternoon, just before church, and i will take you to the minister. he makes all these arrangements." the boy went home overflowing with great anticipations. he said nothing to his father on the subject. he dared not trust himself yet. never did hours pass so slowly as those between dinner and church that afternoon. but the good time came and jonas was true to his appointment, as was the organist, who took him into the vestry-room, and introduced him as an applicant for the vacancy. tall, white-haired, and benign the minister stood as jonas told him his desire. "yes, my boy, the present organist will leave in three weeks. will that give you time to become acquainted with our service?" "yes, sir." "then i have only to hear you play before deciding. will you take the organist's place this afternoon? he will show you the forms." the proposal was sudden and unexpected, and made jonas' heart quake; but he felt that all depended on his courage, and he accepted. he took his seat before the great organ with a brave but serious spirit. the bell ceased tolling; the minister entered; and jonas pressed his slight fingers upon the first chord of the voluntary, which, extemporaneous as it was, may be considered the corner-stone of his life. the music that afternoon was simple and pure as the heart from which it flowed. again jonas presented himself before the minister, who received him in a most affectionate manner. "keep to this simple style," said he, "and we shall never wish to change. how much salary have you fixed upon?" "indeed, sir, i never thought of it. i only wished to play in a church." the minister sat down at a table, and taking pen and paper, went on: "you shall receive what we have always paid--the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars a year. i will draw the agreement. come now, and sign your name." "your chirography is not equal to your organ-playing," continued the minister, smiling, as he saw the childlike, uneven signature of jonas johnson: "but one cannot expect everything of such a little fellow. here, then, is the contract. take care of it." jonas took leave of his friend and hurried home. when the family of the organ-builder gathered about the hearthstone that evening, the youngest came to the father and drew forth his contract. "what is this, my son?" jonas made no answer, but waited while the spectacles were adjusted on the respective noses of both parents--waited till they had read the agreement, and his father had taken two turns across the floor, and said, "he's going to be a great master, wife. god bless him!" and then he could wait no longer, but ran up to his little garret, and throwing himself upon the cot, gave vent to his welling heart in sobs of joy, and hope, and ambition. the organ-builder's prophecy came true. the world is now indebted to jonas for some of its best church music. as a composer and teacher he is "great." those who are as fortunate as the writer of this sketch in having him as a teacher to their children can truly say they know a "great master" of music. jonas' perseverance to become a musician, notwithstanding the severe discipline to which he was subjected, was rewarded by success. and not only was his perseverance commendable in accomplishing a musical education, but in securing a position in which to be useful. and every boy and girl should take this as a lesson, that by their own energy and perseverance may be laid the foundation of their success in life. lyman dean's testimonials. i do not believe two more worthy, excellent people could be found than gideon randal and his wife. to lift the fallen, and minister to the destitute was their constant habit and delight, so that often they shortened their own comforts for the good of others. mr. randal's friends urged him to reduce his charities, as such generous giving might mar his fortune and bring him to want; but his unfailing reply was:-- "i think there's enough left to carry martha and me through life, and some over. what we give to the poor, we lend to the lord, and if a dark day comes, he will provide." a dark day did come, but it was not till after he had reached threescore and ten years. as old age advanced, his little farm had become less productive, and debts accumulated. being forced to raise money, he had borrowed a thousand dollars of eugene harrington, giving him a mortgage on his house for security. the interest was regularly paid, and with this esquire harrington was well satisfied; but he died suddenly, and his son, a merciless, grasping man, wrote to mr. randal, demanding payment of the mortgage. the old man asked for an extension of the time, but he pressed the demand, and threatened if it was not settled within a given time, to deprive him of his home. mr. randal was greatly distressed. "martha," he said to his wife, "young harrington is a hard man. he has me in his power now, and i fear he will not scruple to ruin me. i think i had better go and talk with him, and tell him how little i have. it may be he'll pity two old people, and allow us better terms." "but husband, you are not used to traveling, and harrowtown is a hundred miles away, and you are old and feeble, too." "true, wife, but i can say to him a great deal more than i can write, and besides, luke conway lives there. i took an interest in him when he was a poor boy. perhaps he'll advise and help me, now that i'm in trouble." at last, seeing he felt that he must go, martha reluctantly consented, and fitted him out with wifely care. the next morning was warm and sunny for november, and mr. randal started for harrowtown. "gideon," called mrs. randal, as he walked slowly down the road, "be sure and take tight hold of the railing when you get in and out of the cars." "i'll be careful. you take good care of yourself, martha;" and, with a parting look, the old man hastened on to take the stage, which was to convey him to the railroad station. but misfortune met him at the very outset of his journey. the stage was heavily loaded, and on the way, one of the wheels broke down, which caused such a detention that mr. randal missed the morning train, and the next did not come for several hours. it was afternoon when he finally started. he was anxious and weary from long waiting; and after three stations were passed, he began to ask questions. "how long before we get to harrowtown?" he inquired, stopping the busy conductor. "we get there at half past eight." another question was upon mr. randal's lips, but the conductor had hurried on. he looked around as if to appeal to some one else, but turned back, talking to himself. "not get there till into the evening," he said, "and pitch dark, for there's no moon now. i shan't know where to go." the poor old man was sorely troubled. presently the conductor came back, and as he passed his seat, he stopped him again. "mr. conductor, how shall i know when to get out? i've never been to harrowtown, and i don't want to get out at the wrong place." "give yourself no concern," was the polite reply. "i'll tell you when we come to harrowtown. i won't forget you." soothed by this assurance, mr. randal's mind grew tranquil, and he finally went to sleep. in the seat behind him sat a tall, handsome boy. his name was albert gregory. he was bright and intelligent, but his well-featured face was spoiled by a wicked-looking eye and a hard, cruel mouth. he saw the aged passenger fall asleep, and nudged his seat-fellow. "look there, john. by and by, i'll play a joke on that old country greeny, and you'll see fun." on rushed the swift express; mile after mile was passed; daylight faded and the lamps were lit in the cars, and still the aged man slept, watched by his purposed tormentor, and the other boy who waited to "see fun." at length the speed of the train began to slacken, coming near a stopping-place. albert sprang up and shook mr. randal violently. "wake up! wake up!" he called, sharply, putting his mouth close to his ear. "this is harrowtown. you must get off here." the old man, thus roughly roused, started from his seat and gazed around him, bewildered. the change from day to night, the unaccustomed waking on a moving train, the glare of the lights, added tenfold to his confusion. "wh--what did you say boy?" he asked helplessly. "this is harrowtown. the place where you want to stop. you must get off. be quick or you'll be carried by." the noise of the brakes, and the distracted attention of the passengers on reaching a new station, possibly ignorance of the real locality on the part of those near enough to have heard him, prevented any correction of the boy's cruel falsehood. mr. randal knew it was not the conductor who had aroused him; but, supposing albert to be some employee of the road, he hurried to the car door with tottering steps. the name of the station was called at the other end, as unlike as possible to the name of "harrowtown," but his dull ears did not notice it. he got off upon the platform, and before he could recover himself or knew his error, the train was in motion again. albert was in ecstasies over the success of his "joke," and shook all over with laughter, in which, of course, his companion joined. "oh dear! that's too good for anything!" he cried, "aint it, john?" john assented that it was very funny indeed. neither of the boys noticed that the seat lately occupied by poor, deceived mr. randal had just been taken by a fine-looking middle-aged man, wrapped in a heavy cloak, who appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts, but really heard every word they said. they kept up a brisk conversation, albert speaking in quite a loud tone, for he was feeling very merry. "ha, ha, ha!--but i did think the old fool would hear the brakeman call the station, though. i didn't suppose i could get him any further than the door. to think of his clambering clear out on the platform, and getting left! he believed every word i told him. what a delicious old simpleton!" and having exhausted that edifying subject for the moment, he presently began to brag of his plans and prospects. "i don't believe you stand much of a chance there; they say luke conway is awful particular," the middle-aged stranger heard john remark. "pooh! shut up!" cried albert. "particular! that's just it, and makes my chance all the better. i've brought the kind of recommendation that a particular man wants, you see." "but there'll be lots of other fellows trying for the place." "don't care if there's fifty," said albert, "i'd come in ahead of 'em all. i've got testimonials of character and qualifications from professor howe, rev. joseph lee, dr. henshaw, and esquire jenks, the great railroad contractor. his name alone is enough to secure me the situation." at this juncture, the strange gentleman turned around and gave albert a quick, searching glance. but the conceited boy was too much occupied with himself to notice the movement, and kept on talking. now and then the thought of the victim whom he had fooled seemed to come back and tickle him amazingly. "wonder where the old man is now. ha, ha! do you suppose he has found out where harrowtown is? oh, but wasn't it rich to see how scared he was when i waked him up? and how he jumped and scrambled out of the car! 'pon my word, i never saw anything so comical." here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a stern reproof. but he did not speak. some hidden motive withheld him. we will now leave albert and his fellow travelers, and follow good gideon randal. it was quite dark when he stepped from the cars, and he inquired of a man at the station, "can you tell me where i can find mr. aaron harrington?" "there's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply. "what, isn't this harrowtown?" asked mr. randal in great consternation. "no, it is whipple village." "then i got out at the wrong station. what shall i do?" in a voice of deep distress. "go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning," said the man, pleasantly. there was no alternative, mr. randal passed a restless night at the hotel, and at an early hour he was again at the station, waiting for the train. his face was pale, and his eye wild and anxious. "the stage broke down, and i missed the first train," thought he, "and then that boy told me to get out here. i've made a bad beginning, and i'm afraid this trip will have a bad ending." there were other passengers walking to and fro on the platform, waiting for the cars to come. one was a plain-featured, honest-looking boy, who had been accompanied to the station by his mother. just before his mother bade him good by, she said, "lyman, look at that pale, sad, old man. i don't believe he is used to traveling. perhaps you can help him along." soon a loud, prolonged whistle was heard. the cars were coming. "allow me to assist you, sir," said lyman dean to mr. randal, as the train stopped; and he took hold of his arm, and guided him into a car to a seat. "thank you, my boy. i'm getting old and clumsy, and a little help from a young hand comes timely. where are you going, if i may ask?" "to harrowtown, sir. i saw an advertisement for a boy in a store, and i'm going to try to get the situation. my name is lyman dean." "ah? i'm sure i wish you success, lyman, for i believe you're a good boy. you are going to the same place i am. i want to find aaron harrington, but i've had two mishaps. i don't know what's coming next." "i'll show you right where his office is. i've been in harrowtown a good many times." half an hour later, the brakeman shouted the name of the station where they must stop. lyman assisted mr. randal off the train, and walked with him to the principal street. "here's mr harrington's office," said he. "oh, yes, thank you kindly. and now could you tell me where mr. luke conway's place of business is?" "why, that's the very gentleman i'm going to see," said lyman. "his place is just round the corner, only two blocks off." mr. randal looked deeply interested. he turned and shook the boy's hand warmly. "lyman," he said, "mr. conway knows me. i am coming to see him by and by. i am really obliged to you for your politeness, and wish i could do something for you. i hope mr. conway will give you the situation, for you deserve it. if you apply before i get there, tell him gideon randal is your friend. good by." fifteen minutes after found lyman waiting in the counting-room of luke conway's store. albert gregory had just preceded him. the merchant was writing, and he had requested the boys to be seated a short time, till he was at leisure. before he finished his work, a slow, feeble step was heard approaching, and an old man stood in the doorway. "luke, don't you remember me?" the merchant looked up at the sound of the voice. then he sprang up from his chair and grasped the old man's hands in both his own. "mr. randal! welcome, a thousand times welcome, my benefactor!" he exclaimed. and seating his guest on the office lounge beside him, mr. conway inquired after his health and comfort, and talked with him as a loving son. it was evident to the quick perception of the merchant that the good old man's circumstances had changed, and he soon made it easy for him to unburden his mind. "yes, luke, i am in trouble. aaron harrington owns a mortgage on my farm, and i can't pay him, and he threatens to take my home," said mr. randal, with a quivering lip. "i went to his office, but didn't find him, and i thought may be you'd advise me what to do." "mr. randal," answered the merchant, laying his hand on the old man's shoulder, "almost thirty years ago when i was cold, and hungry, and friendless, you took me in and fed me. your good wife--god bless her!--made me a suit of clothes with her own hands. you found me work, and you gave me money when i begun the world alone. much if not all that i am in life i owe to your sympathy and help, my kind old friend. now i am rich, and you must let me cancel my debt. i shall pay your mortgage to-day. you shall have your home free again." mr. randal wiped great hot tears from his cheeks, and said in a husky voice, "it is just as i told martha. i knew if we lent our money to the lord, when a dark day came, he would provide." the reader can imagine the different feelings of the two boys, as they sat witnesses of the scene. the look of derision, that changed to an expression of sickly dismay, on albert's face, when the old man came in and was so warmly greeted by the merchant, was curiously suggestive. but his usual assurance soon returned. he thought it unlikely that mr. randal would recognize him in the daylight, and he determined to put on a bold front. for a minute the two men continued in conversation. mr. conway called up pleasant reminiscences of "aunt martha," his boy-life on the farm, and the peace and stillness of the country town. he thought a railway ride of a hundred miles must be a hardship for a quiet old man. "it was a long way for you," he said, "did you have a comfortable journey?" "well, i can't quite say that. first, the stage broke down and delayed me. then i slept in the cars, and a boy played a trick on me, and waked me up, and made me get out at the wrong station, so i had to stay over night in whipple village. to tell the truth i had a good deal of worriment with one thing and another, getting here; but it's all bright now," he added with a radiant face. "you shall go with me to my house and rest, as soon as i have dismissed these boys," said mr. conway, earnestly; and turning to albert and lyman, who anxiously waited, he spoke to them about their errand. "i suppose you came because you saw my advertisement?" "yes, sir," replied both, simultaneously. "very well. i believe you came in first. what is your name?" "i am albert gregory, sir. i think i can suit you. i've brought testimonials of ability and character from some of the first men--esquire jenkins, rev. joseph lee, dr. henshaw, and others. here are my letters of recommendation," holding them out for mr. conway to take. "i don't want to see them," returned the merchant, coldly. "i have seen you before, i understand your character well enough for the present." he then addressed a few words to lyman dean. "i should be very glad of work," said lyman. "my mother is poor, and i want to earn my living, but i hav'n't any testimonials." "yes, you have," said old mr. randal, who was waiting for an opportunity to say that very thing. and then he told the merchant how polite and helpful lyman had been to him. mr. conway fixed his eyes severely upon the other boy. the contrast between him and young dean was certainly worth a lesson. "albert gregory," said the merchant, "i occupied the seat in the car in front of you last evening. i heard you exulting and wickedly boasting how you had deceived a distressed old man. mr. randal, is this the boy who lied to you, and caused you to get out at the wrong station?" mr. randal looked earnestly at albert. "i declare! now i remember him. it is! i'm sure it is." it was useless for albert to attempt any vindication of himself. his stammered excuses stuck in his throat, and he was glad to hide his mortification by an early escape. crestfallen, he slunk away, taking all his "testimonials" with him. "lyman," said mr. conway, kindly, "i shall be very glad to employ you in my store. you shall have good pay if you do well, and i am sure you will. you may begin work at once." lyman's eyes danced with joy as he left the counting-room to receive his instructions from the head clerk. mr. conway paid to mr. harrington the money owed him by mr. randal, and a heavy load was lifted from the good old farmer's heart. he remained a visitor two or three days in mr. conway's house, where he was treated with the utmost deference and attention. mr. conway also purchased for him a suit of warm clothes, and an overcoat, and sent his confidential clerk with him on his return journey to see him safely home. nor was good mrs. randal forgotten. she received a handsome present in money from mr. conway, and a message full of grateful affection. nothing ever after occurred to disturb the lives of the aged and worthy pair. albert gregory obtained an excellent situation in new york, but his false character, and his wanton disregard of others' feelings and rights, made him as hateful to his employers as to all his associates, and he soon found it desirable to seek another place. he has changed places many times since, and his career has been an unhappy one--another example of the penalty of frivolous habits and a heartless nature. lyman dean is now a successful merchant, a partner of mr. conway, and occupies a high position in society, as an honorable, enterprising man. what is it that gives to the plainest face the charm of the noblest beauty? not the thought of the duty of happiness, but the happiness of duty. unforgotten words "have you examined that bill, james?" "yes, sir." "anything wrong?" "i find two errors." "ah, let me see." the lad handed his employer a long bill that had been placed on his desk for examination. "here is an error in the calculation of ten dollars, which they have made against themselves; and another of ten dollars in the footing." "also against themselves?" "yes, sir." the merchant smiled in a way that struck the lad as peculiar. "twenty dollars against themselves," he remarked in a kind of pleasant surprise. "trusty clerks they must have!" "shall i correct the figures?" asked the lad. "no, let them correct their own mistakes. we don't examine bills for other people's benefit," replied the merchant. "it will be time to rectify those errors when they find them out. all so much gain as it now stands." the boy's delicate moral sense was shocked at so unexpected a remark. he was the son of a poor widow, who had given him to understand that to be just was the duty of man. mr. carman, the merchant in whose employment he had been for only a few months, was an old friend of his father, and a person in whom he reposed the highest confidence. in fact, james had always looked upon him as a kind of model man; and when mr. carman agreed to take him into his store, he felt that great good fortune was in his way. "let them correct their own mistakes." these words made a strong impression on the mind of james lewis. when first spoken by mr. carman, and with the meaning then involved, he felt, as we have said, shocked; but as he turned them over again in his thoughts, and connected their utterance with a person who stood so high in his mother's estimation, he began to think that perhaps the thing was fair enough in business. mr. carman was hardly the man to do wrong. a few days after james had examined the bill, a clerk from the house by which it had been rendered, called for settlement. the lad, who was present, waited with interest to see whether mr. carman would speak of the error. but he made no remark. a check for the amount of the bill rendered, was filled up, and a receipt taken. "is that right?" james asked himself this question. his moral sense said no; but the fact that mr. carman had so acted, bewildered his mind. "it may be the way in business"--so he thought to himself--"but it don't look honest. i wouldn't have believed it of him." mr. carman had a kind of way with him that won the boy's heart, and naturally tended to make him judge of whatever he might do in a most favorable manner. "i wish he had corrected that error," he said to himself a great many times when thinking in a pleased way of mr. carman, and his own good fortune in having been received into his employment. "it don't look right, but it may be in the way of business." one day he went to the bank and drew the money for a check. in counting it over he found that the teller had paid him fifty dollars too much, so he went back to the counter and told him of his mistake. the teller thanked him, and he returned to the store with the consciousness in his mind of having done right. "the teller overpaid me by fifty dollars," he said to mr. carman, as he handed him the money. "indeed," replied the latter, a light breaking over his countenance; and he hastily counted the bank bills. the light faded as the last bill left his fingers. "there's no mistake, james." a tone of disappointment was in his voice. "oh, i gave him back the fifty dollars. wasn't that right?" "you simpleton!" exclaimed mr. carman. "don't you know that bank mistakes are never corrected? if the teller had paid you fifty dollars short he would not have made it right." the warm blood mantled the cheek of james under this reproof. it is often the case that more shame is felt for a blunder than a crime. in this instance the lad felt a sort of mortification at having done what mr. carman was pleased to call a silly thing, and he made up his mind that if they should ever overpay him a thousand dollars at the bank, he should bring the amount to his employer, and let him do as he pleased with the money. "let people look after their own mistakes," said mr. carman. james lewis pondered these things in his heart. the impression they made was too strong ever to be forgotten. "it may be right," he said, but he did not feel altogether satisfied. a month or two after the occurrence of that bad mistake, as james counted over his weekly wages, just received from mr. carman, he discovered that he was paid half a dollar too much. the first impulse of his mind was to return the half-dollar to his employer, and it was on his lips to say, "you have given me half a dollar too much, sir," when the unforgotten words, "let people look after their own mistakes," flashing upon his thoughts, made him hesitate. to hold a parley with evil is to be overcome. "i must think about this," said james, as he put the money in his pocket. "if it is true in one case, it is true in another. mr. carman don't correct mistakes that people make in his favor, and he can't complain when the rule works against him." but the boy was very far from being in a comfortable state. he felt that to keep half a dollar would be a dishonest act. still he could not make up his mind to return it, at least not then. james did not return the half-dollar, but spent it to his own gratification. after he had done this it came suddenly into his head that mr. carman had only been trying him, and he was filled with anxiety and alarm. not long after mr. carman repeated the same mistake. james kept the half-dollar with less hesitation. "let him correct his own mistakes," said he resolutely; "that's the doctrine he acts on with other people, and he can't complain if he gets paid in the same coin he puts in circulation. i just wanted half a dollar." from this time the fine moral sense of james lewis was blunted. he had taken an evil counselor into his heart, stimulated a spirit of covetousness--latent in almost every mind--which caused him to desire the possession of things beyond his ability to obtain. james had good business qualifications, and so pleased mr. carman by his intelligence, industry, and tact with customers, that he advanced him rapidly, and gave him, before he was eighteen years of age, the most reliable position in the store. but james had learned something more from his employer than how to do business well. he had learned to be dishonest. he had never forgotten the first lesson he had received in this bad science; he had acted upon it, not only in two instances, but in a hundred, and almost always to the injury of mr. carman. he had long since given up waiting for mistakes to be made in his favor, but originated them in the varied and complicated transactions of a large business in which he was trusted implicitly. james grew sharp, cunning, and skilful; always on the alert; always bright, and ready to meet any approaches towards a discovery of his wrong-doing by his employer, who held him in the highest regard. thus it went on until james lewis was in his twentieth year, when the merchant had his suspicions aroused by a letter that spoke of the young man as not keeping the most respectable company, and as spending money too freely for a clerk on a moderate salary. before this time james had removed his mother into a pleasant house, for which he paid a rent of four hundred dollars; his salary was eight hundred, but he deceived his mother by telling her it was fifteen hundred. every comfort that she needed was fully supplied, and she was beginning to feel that, after a long and painful struggle with the world, her happier days had come. james was at his desk when the letter was received by mr. carman. he looked at his employer and saw him change countenance suddenly. he read it over twice, and james saw that the contents produced disturbance. mr. carman glanced towards the desk, and their eyes met; it was only for a moment, but the look that james received made his heart stop beating. there was something about the movements of mr. carman for the rest of the day that troubled the young man. it was plain to him that suspicion had been aroused by that letter. oh, how bitterly now did he repent, in dread of discovery and punishment, the evil of which he had been guilty! exposure would disgrace and ruin him, and bow the head of his widowed mother even to the grave. "you are not well this evening," said mrs. lewis, as she looked at her son's changed face across the table, and noticed that he did not eat. "my head aches." "perhaps a rest will make you feel better." "i'll lie down on the sofa in the parlor for a short time." mrs. lewis followed him into the parlor in a little while, and, sitting down on the sofa on which he was lying, placed her hand upon his head. ah, it would take more than the loving pressure of a mother's hand to ease the pain from which he was suffering. the touch of that pure hand increased the pain to agony. "do you feel better?" asked mrs. lewis. she had remained some time with her hand on his forehead. "not much," he replied, and rising as he spoke, he added, "i think a walk in the open air will do me good." "don't go out, james," said mrs. lewis, a troubled feeling coming into her heart. "i'll walk only a few squares." and james went from the parlor and passed into the street. "there is something more than headache the matter with him," thought mrs. lewis. for half an hour james walked without any purpose in his mind beyond the escape from the presence of his mother. at last his walk brought him near mr. carman's store, and at passing he was surprised at seeing a light within. "what can this mean?" he asked himself, a new fear creeping, with its shuddering impulse, into his heart. he listened by the door and windows, but he could hear no sound within. "there's something wrong," he said, "what can it be? if this is discovered what will be the end of it? ruin! ruin! my poor mother!" the wretched young man hastened on, walked the streets for two hours, when he returned home. his mother met him when he entered, and with unconcealed anxiety, asked him if he were better. he said yes, but in a manner that only increased the trouble she felt, and passed up hastily to his own room. in the morning the strangely altered face of james, as he met his mother at the breakfast table, struck alarm into her heart. he was silent, and evaded all her questions. while they sat at the table the door-bell rang loudly. the sound startled james, and he turned his head to listen, in a nervous way. "who is it?" asked mrs. lewis. "a gentleman who wishes to see mr. james," replied the girl. james rose instantly and went out into the hall, shutting the dining-room door as he did so. mrs. lewis sat waiting her son's return. she heard him coming back in a few moments; but he did not enter the dining-room. then he returned along the hall to the street door and she heard it shut. all was silent. starting up, she ran into the passage, but james was not there. he had gone away with the person who called. ah, that was a sad going away. mr. carman had spent half the night in examining the accounts of james, and discovered frauds of over six thousand dollars. blindly indignant, he sent an officer to arrest him early in the morning; and it was with this officer that he went away from his mother, _never_ to _return_. "the young villain shall lie in the bed he has made for himself!" exclaimed mr. carman, in his bitter indignation. and he made the exposure completely. at the trial he showed an eager desire to have him convicted, and presented such an array of evidence that the jury could not give any other verdict than guilty. the poor mother was in court, and audibly in the silence that followed came her convulsed sobs upon the air. the presiding judge addressed the culprit, and asked if he had anything to say why the sentence should not be pronounced against him. all eyes were turned upon the pale, agitated young man, who rose with an effort, and leaned against the railing by which he stood, as if needing the support. "will it please your honors," he said, "to direct my prosecutor to come a little nearer, so that i can look at him and your honors at the same time?" mr. carman was directed to come forward to where the boy stood. james looked at him steadily for a few moments, and turned to the judges. "what i have to say to your honors is this [he spoke calmly and distinctly], and it may in a degree extenuate, though it cannot excuse, my crime. i went into that man's store an innocent boy, and if he had been an honest man i would not have stood before you to-day as a criminal!" mr. carman appealed to the court for protection against an allegation of such an outrageous character; but he was peremptorily ordered to be silent. james went on in a firm voice,-- "only a few weeks after i went into his employment i examined a bill by his direction, and discovered an error of twenty dollars." the face of mr. carman crimsoned. "you remember it, i see," remarked james, "and i shall have cause to remember it as long as i live. the error was in favor of mr. carman. i asked if i should correct the figures, and he answered 'no; let them correct their own mistakes. we don't examine bills for other people's benefit.' it was my first lesson in dishonesty. i saw the bill settled, and mr. carman take twenty dollars that was not his own. i felt shocked at first; it seemed such a wrong thing. but soon after he called me a simpleton for handing back a fifty-dollar bill to the teller of a bank, which he had overpaid me on a check, and then--" "may i ask the protection of the court," said mr. carman. "is it true what the lad says?" asked the presiding judge. mr. carman hesitated and looked confused. all eyes were on his face; and judges and jury, lawyers and spectators, felt certain that he was guilty of leading the unhappy young man astray. "not long afterward," resumed lewis, "in receiving my wages i found that mr. carman had paid me fifty cents too much. i was about to give it back to him, when i remembered his remark about letting people correct their own mistakes, and said to myself, 'let him correct his own errors,' and dishonestly kept the money. again the same thing happened, and i kept the money that did not of right belong to me. this was the beginning of evil, and here i am. if he had shown any mercy, i might have kept silent and made no defense." the young man covered his face with his hands, and sat down overpowered with his feelings. his mother who was near him sobbed aloud, and bending over, laid her hands on his head, saying:-- "my poor boy! my poor boy!" there were few eyes in the court-room undimmed. in the silence that followed mr. carman spoke out:-- "is my character to be thus blasted on the word of a criminal, your honors? is this right?" "your solemn oath that this charge is untrue," said the judge, "will place you in the right." it was the unhappy boy's only opportunity, and the court felt bound in humanity to hear him. james lewis stood up again instantly, and turned his white face and dark, piercing eyes upon mr. carman. "let him take his oath if he dare!" he exclaimed. mr. carman consulted with his counsel, and withdrew. after a brief conference with his associates, the presiding judge said, addressing the criminal:-- "in consideration of your youth, and the temptation to which in tender years you were unhappily subject, the court gives you the slightest sentence, one year's imprisonment. but let me solemnly warn you against any further steps in the way you have taken. crime can have no valid excuse. it is evil in the sight of god and man, and leads only to suffering. when you come forth again after your brief incarceration, may it be with the resolution to die rather than commit crime!" and the curtain fell on that sad scene in the boy's life. when it was lifted again, and he came forth from prison a year afterwards, his mother was dead. from the day her pale face faded from his vision as he passed from the court-room, he never looked upon her again. ten years afterward a man was reading a newspaper in a far western town. he had a calm, serious face, and looked like one who had known suffering and trial. "brought to justice at last!" he said to himself, as the blood came to his face; "convicted on the charge of open insolvency, and sent to state prison. so much for the man who gave me in tender years the first lessons in ill-doing. but, thank god! the other lessons have been remembered. 'when you come forth again,' said the judge, 'may it be with the resolution to die rather than commit a crime!' and i have kept this injunction in my heart when there seemed no way of escape except through crime; and god helping me, i will keep it to the end." your call. the world is dark, but you are called to brighten some little corner, some secluded glen; somewhere a burden rests that you may lighten, and thus reflect the master's love for men. is there a brother drifting on life's ocean, who might be saved if you but speak a word? speak it to-day. the testing of devotion is our response when duty's call is heard. herrings for nothing. the darkness was coming on rapidly, as a man with a basket on his head turned the corner of a street in london. he cried loudly as he went, "herrings! three a penny, red herrings, good and cheap, at three a penny!" soon he came close to me and commenced conversation. "governor, why can't i sell these herrings? i have walked two miles along this dismal place, offering them; and nobody will buy." "the people have no work at all to do, and they are starving; there are plenty of houses round here that have not had a penny in them for many a day," was my reply. "ah! then, governor," he rejoined, "if they haven't the half-pence, they can't spend 'em, sure enough; so there's nothing for me but to carry 'em elsewhere." "how much will you take for the lot?" i inquired. "i'll be glad to get four shillin'." i put my hand in my pocket, produced that amount and transferred it to him. "right! governor, thank'ee! what'll i do with 'em?" he said, as he quickly transferred the coins to his own pocket. "go round this corner into the middle of the street, shout with all your might,-- 'herrings for nothing!' and give three to every man, woman, and child, that comes to you, till the basket is emptied." so he proceeded into the middle of the street, and went along shouting, "herrings for nothing! good red herrings for nothing!" i stood at the corner to watch his progress; and soon he neared the house where a tall woman stood at the first floor window looking out upon him. "here you are missus," he cried, "herrings for nothing! come an' take 'em." the woman shook her head unbelievingly, and left the window. "vot a fool!" said he; "but they won't all be so. herrings for nothing!" a little child came out to look at him, and he called to her, "here, my dear, take these in to your mother, and tell her how cheap they are--herrings for nothing." but the child was afraid of him and them, and ran in-doors. so, down the street, in the snow, slush, and mud, went the cheap fish, the vender crying loudly as he went, "herrings for nothing!" and then adding savagely, "oh, you fools." thus he reached the end of the street; and then turning to retrace his steps, he continued his double cry as he came. "well," i said to him calmly, as he reached me at the corner. "well!" he repeated, "if yer think so! when yer gave me the money for herrings as yer didn't want, i thought you was training for a lunatic 'sylum! now i thinks all the people round here are fit company for yer. but what'll i do with the herrings if yer don't want 'em, and they won't have 'em?" "we'll try again together," i replied; "i will go with you and we'll both shout." into the road we both went, and he shouted once more, "herrings for nothing!" then i called out loudly also, "will any one have some herrings for tea?" they heard my voice, and they knew it well; and they came out at once, in twos and threes and sixes, men and women and children, all striving to reach the welcome food. as fast as i could take them from the basket, i handed three to each eager applicant, until all were speedily disposed of. when the basket was empty, the hungry crowd that had none was far greater than that which had been supplied; but they were too late, there were no more "herrings for nothing!" foremost among the disappointed was a tall woman of a bitter tongue, who began vehemently, "why haven't i got any? aint i as good as they? aint my children as hungry as theirs?" before i had time to reply, the vender stretched out his arm toward her, saying, "why, governor, that's the very woman as i offered 'em to first, and she turned up her nose at 'em." "i didn't," she rejoined passionately, "i didn't believe you meant it!" "yer goes without for yer unbelief!" he replied. "good-night, and thank'ee, governor!" i told this story upon the sea-beach, to a great crowd gathered there on a summer sabbath day. they looked at each other; first smiled, then laughed outright, and at length shouted with laughter. it was my time then; and i said, "you cannot help laughing at the quaint story, which is strictly true. but are you sure you would not have done as they did, and been as unbelieving as they? their unbelief cost them only a hungry stomach a little longer; but what may your unbelief cost you? god has sent his messengers to you for many years to offer pardon for nothing! peace for nothing! salvation for nothing! he has sent to you the most loving and tender offers that even an almighty god could frame; and what have you replied? have you taken the trouble to reply at all? have you not turned away in utter scornful unbelief, like the woman? or ran away in fear, like the child? you are still without a hope on earth, or a hope in heaven, because you will not believe god's messengers when they offer you all that you need for time and eternity--for nothing. "take warning by that disappointed crowd of hungry applicants. when they were convinced that the offer was in good faith, and would gladly have shared with their fellows, they were too late! "let it not be so with you! do not be in that awfully large crowd of disappointed ones, who will be obliged to believe when belief will not help them; whose knowledge, when it comes, will only increase the sorrow that they put off believing until it was _too late_." as i looked earnestly upon that vast crowd, the laughter was entirely gone, and an air of uneasy conviction was plainly traceable upon many faces. [illustration: come unto me.] "will you not come to jesus now?" i entreated. "he is waiting, pleading with you! here is salvation, full, free, and eternal; help, guidance, and blessing,--all for nothing! without money and without price." did you ever think? did you ever think what this world would be if christ hadn't come to save it? his hands and feet were nailed to the tree, and his precious life--he gave it. but countless hearts would break with grief, at the hopeless life they were given, if god had not sent the world relief, if jesus had stayed in heaven. did you ever think what this world would be with never a life hereafter? despair in the faces of all we'd see, and sobbing instead of laughter. in vain is beauty, and flowers' bloom, to remove the heart's dejection, since all would drift to a yawning tomb, with never a resurrection. did you ever think what this world would be. how weary of all endeavor, if the dead unnumbered, in land and sea, would just sleep on forever? only a pall over hill and plain! and the brightest hours are dreary, where the heart is sad, and hopes are vain, and life is sad and weary. did you ever think what this world would be if christ had stayed in heaven,-- no home in bliss, no soul set free, no life, or sins forgiven? but he came with a heart of tenderest love, and now from on high he sees us, and mercy comes from the throne on high; thank god for the gift of jesus! bread upon the waters "ah! jacob, now you see how all your hopes are gone. here we are worn out with age--all our children removed from us by the hand of death, and ere long we must be the inmates of the poorhouse. where now is all the bread you have cast upon the waters?" the old, white-haired man looked up at his wife. he was, indeed, bent down with years, and age sat tremblingly upon him. jacob manfred had been a comparatively wealthy man, and while fortune had smiled upon him he had ever been among the first to lend a listening ear and a helping hand to the call of distress. but now misfortune was his. of his four boys not one was left. sickness and failing strength found him with but little, and had left him penniless. an oppressive embargo upon the shipping business had been the first weight upon his head, and other misfortunes came in painful succession. jacob and his wife were all alone, and gaunt poverty looked them coldly in the face. "don't repine, susan," said the old man. "true we are poor, but we are not yet forsaken." "not forsaken, jacob? who is there to help us now?" jacob manfred raised his trembling finger toward heaven. "ah! jacob, i know god is our friend, but we should have friends here. look back and see how many you have befriended in days long past. you cast your bread upon the waters with a free hand, but it has not returned to you." "hush, susan, you forget what you say. to be sure i may have hoped that some kind hand of earth would lift me from the cold depths of utter want; but i do not expect it as a reward for anything i may have done. if i have helped the unfortunate in days gone by, i have had my full reward in knowing that i have done my duty to my fellows. oh! of all the kind deeds i have done to my suffering fellows, i would not for gold have one of them blotted from my memory. ah! my fond wife, 'tis the memory of the good done in life that makes old age happy. even now, i can hear again the warm thanks of those whom i have befriended, and again i can see their smiles." "yes, jacob," returned the wife, in a lower tone, "i know you have been good, and in your memory you can be happy; but, alas! there is a present upon which we must look--there is a reality upon which we must dwell. we must beg for food or starve!" the old man started, and a deep mark of pain was drawn across his features. "_beg!_" he replied, with a quick shudder. "no, susan, we are--" he hesitated, and a big tear rolled down his furrowed cheek. "we are what, jacob?" "we are going to the poorhouse!" "o god! i thought so!" fell from the poor wife's lips, as she covered her face with her hands. "i have thought so, and i have tried to school myself to the thought; but my poor heart will not bear it!" "do not give up," softly urged the old man, laying his hand upon her arm. "it makes but little difference to us now. we have not long to remain on earth, and let us not wear out our last days in useless repinings. come, come." "but when--when--shall we go?" "now--to-day." "then god have mercy on us!" "he will," murmured jacob. that old couple sat for a while in silence. when they were aroused from their painful thoughts it was by the stopping of a wagon in front of the door. a man entered the room where they sat. he was the keeper of the poorhouse. "come, mr. manfred," he said, "the selectmen have managed to crowd you into the poorhouse. the wagon is at the door, and you can get ready as soon as possible." jacob manfred had not calculated the strength he should need for this ordeal. there was a coldness in the very tone and manner of the man who had come for him that went like an ice-bolt to his heart, and with a deep groan he sank back in his seat. "come, be in a hurry," impatiently urged the keeper. at that moment a heavy covered carriage drove up to the door. "is this the house of jacob manfred?" this question was asked by a man who entered from the carriage. he was a kind-looking man, about forty years of age. "that is my name," said jacob. "then they told me truly," uttered the new-comer. "are you from the almshouse?" he continued, turning toward the keeper. "yes." "then you may return. jacob manfred goes to no poorhouse while i live." the keeper gazed inquisitively into the face of the stranger, and left the house. "don't you remember me?" exclaimed the new-comer, grasping the old man by the hand. "i can not call you to my memory now." "do you remember lucius williams?" "williams?" repeated jacob, starting up and gazing earnestly into the stranger's face. "yes, jacob manfred--lucius williams, that little boy whom, thirty years ago, you saved from the house of correction; that poor boy whom you kindly took from the bonds of the law, and placed on board your own vessels." "and are you--" "yes--yes, i am the man you made. you found me a rough stone from the hand of poverty and bad example. it was you who brushed off the evil, and who first led me to the sweet waters of moral life and happiness. i have profited by the lesson you gave me in early youth, and the warm spark which your kindness lighted up in my bosom has grown brighter and brighter ever since. with an affluence for life i have settled down to enjoy the remainder of my days in peace and quietness. i heard of your losses and bereavements. come, i have a home and a heart, and your presence will make them both warmer, brighter, and happier. come, my more than father--and you my mother, come. you made my youth all bright, and i will not see your old age doomed to darkness." jacob manfred tottered forward and sank upon the bosom of his preserver. he could not speak his thanks, for they were too heavy for words. when he looked up again he sought his wife. "susan," he said, in a choking, trembling tone, "my bread has come back to me!" "forgive me, jacob." "no, no, susan. it is not i who must forgive--god holds us in his hand." "ah!" murmured the wife, as she raised her streaming eyes to heaven, "i will never doubt him again." all my griefs by him are ordered needful is each one for me, every tear by him is counted, one too much there cannot be; and if when they fall so thickly, i can own his way is right, then each bitter tear of anguish precious is in jesus' sight. far too well my saviour loved me to allow my life to be one long, calm, unbroken summer, one unruffled, stormless sea; he would have me fondly nestling closer to his loving breast, he would have that world seem brighter where alone is perfect rest. though his wise and loving purpose, once i could not clearly see, i believe with faith unshaken, all will work for good to me; therefore when my way is gloomy, and my eyes with tears are dim, i will go to god, my father, and will tell my griefs to him. the father is near. a wee little child in its dreaming one night was startled by some awful ogre of fright, and called for its father, who quickly arose and hastened to quiet the little one's woes. "dear child, what's the matter?" he lovingly said, and smoothed back the curls from the fair little head; "don't cry any more, there is nothing to fear, don't cry any more, for your papa is here." ah, well! and how often we cry in the dark, though god in his love is so near to us! hark! how his loving words, solacing, float to the ear, saying, "lo! i am with you: 'tis i, do not fear." god is here in the world as thy father and mine, ever watching and ready with love-words divine. and while erring oft, through the darkness i hear in my soul the sweet message: "thy father is near." a rift in the cloud. andrew lee came home at evening from the shop where he had worked all day, tired and out of spirits; came home to his wife, who was also tired, and dispirited. "a smiling wife, and a cheerful home--what a paradise it would be!" said andrew to himself as he turned his eyes from the clouded face of mrs. lee, and sat down with knitted brow, and a moody aspect. not a word was spoken by either. mrs. lee was getting supper, and she moved about with a weary step. "come," she said at last, with a side glance at her husband. there was invitation in the word only, none in the voice of mrs. lee. andrew arose and went to the table. he was tempted to speak an angry word, but controlled himself, and kept silence. he could find no fault with the chop, nor the sweet home-made bread, and fresh butter. they would have cheered the inward man if there had only been a gleam of sunshine on the face of his wife. he noticed that she did not eat. "are you not well mary?" the words were on his lips, but he did not utter them, for the face of his wife looked so repellent, that he feared an irritating reply. and so in moody silence, the twain sat together until andrew had finished his supper. as he pushed his chair back, his wife arose, and commenced clearing off the table. "this is purgatory!" said lee to himself, as he commenced walking the floor of their little breakfast-room, with his hands clasped behind him, and his chin almost touching his breast. after removing all the dishes and taking them into the kitchen, mrs. lee spread a green cover on the table, and placing a fresh trimmed lamp thereon, went out and shut the door, leaving her husband alone with his unpleasant feelings. he took a long, deep breath as she did so, paused in his walk, stood still for some moments, and then drawing a paper from his pocket, sat down by the table, opened the sheet and commenced reading. singularly enough the words upon which his eyes rested were, "praise your wife." they rather tended to increase the disturbance of mind from which he was suffering. "i should like to find some occasion for praising mine." how quickly his thoughts expressed the ill-natured sentiment. but his eyes were on the page before him, and he read on. "praise your wife, man, for pity's sake, give her a little encouragement; it wont hurt her." andrew lee raised his eyes from the paper and muttered, "oh, yes. that's all very well. praise is cheap enough. but praise her for what? for being sullen, and making your home the most disagreeable place in the world?" his eyes fell again to the paper. "she has made your home comfortable, your hearth bright and shining, your food agreeable; for pity's sake, tell her you thank her, if nothing more. she don't expect it; it will make her eyes open wider than they have for ten years; but it will do her good for all that, and you, too." it seemed to andrew as if these sentences were written just for him, and just for the occasion. it was the complete answer to his question, "praise her for what?" and he felt it also as a rebuke. he read no farther, for thought came too busy, and in a new direction. memory was convicting him of injustice toward his wife. she had always made his home as comfortable as hands could make it, and had he offered the light return of praise or commendation? had he ever told her of the satisfaction he had known, or the comfort experienced? he was not able to recall the time or the occasion. as he thought thus, mrs. lee came in from the kitchen, and taking her work-basket from the closet, placed it on the table, and sitting down without speaking, began to sew. mr. lee glanced almost stealthily at the work in her hands, and saw it was the bosom of a shirt, which she was stitching neatly. he knew it was for him that she was at work. "praise your wife." the words were before the eyes of his mind, and he could not look away from them. but he was not ready for this yet. he still felt moody and unforgiving. the expression on his wife's face he interpreted to mean ill-nature, and with ill-nature he had no patience. his eyes fell on the newspaper that spread out before him, and he read the sentence:-- "a kind cheerful word, spoken in a gloomy home, is like the rift in the cloud that lets the sunshine through." lee struggled with himself a while longer. his own ill-nature had to be conquered first; his moody, accusing spirit had to be subdued. but he was coming right, and at last got right, as to will. next came the question as to how he should begin. he thought of many things to say, yet feared to say them, lest his wife should meet his advances with a cold rebuff. at last, leaning towards her, and taking hold of the linen bosom upon which she was at work, he said, in a voice carefully modulated with kindness:-- "you are doing the work very beautifully, mary." mrs. lee made no reply. but her husband did not fail to observe that she lost, almost instantly, that rigid erectness with which she had been sitting, nor that the motion of her needle had ceased. "my shirts are better made, and whiter than those of any other man in our shop," said lee, encouraged to go on. "are they?" mrs. lee's voice was low, and had in it a slight huskiness. she did not turn her face, but her husband saw that she leaned a little toward him. he had broken through the ice of reserve, and all was easy now. his hand was among the clouds, and a few feeble rays were already struggling through the rift it had made. "yes, mary," he answered softly, "and i've heard it said more than once, what a good wife andrew lee must have." mrs. lee turned her face towards her husband. there was light it it, and light in her eye. but there was something in the expression of the countenance that puzzled him a little. "do you think so?" she asked quite soberly. "what a question!" ejaculated andrew lee, starting up and going around to the side of the table where his wife was sitting.--"what a question, mary!" he repeated, as he stood before her. "do you?" it was all she said. "yes, darling," was the warmly-spoken answer, and he stooped down and kissed her.--"how strange that you should ask me such a question!" "if you would only tell me so now and then, andrew, it would do me good." and mrs. lee arose, and leaning against the manly breast of her husband, stood and wept. what a strong light broke in upon the mind of andrew lee. he had never given to his faithful wife even the small reward of praise for all the loving interest she had manifested daily, until doubt of his love had entered her soul, and made the light thick darkness. no wonder that her face grew clouded, nor that what he considered moodiness and ill-nature took possession of her spirit. "you are good and true, mary. my own dear wife. i am proud of you--i love you--and my first desire is for your happiness. oh, if i could always see your face in sunshine, my home would be the dearest place on earth." "how precious to me are your words of love and praise, andrew," said mrs. lee, smiling up through her tears into his face. "with them in my ears, my heart can never lie in shadow." how easy had been the work for andrew lee. he had swept his hand across the cloudy horizon of his home, and now the bright sunshine was streaming down, and flooding that home with joy and beauty. success is the reward of perseverance if a person has ambition to engage in any enterprise, he desires to succeed in his undertaking. it is generally right that he should prosper in all that is truly good or great; and the fact that success is attainable by continued effort, we have all verified so many times in our pursuit of different objects, that we feel sure we can accomplish almost any purpose if we with patient perseverance bend all our energies in the right direction. if there is much to be gained, we may make apparently slow progress; but if we apply ourselves closely, and do not let little things discourage us we shall eventually succeed. there are always plenty of little things in the way of the accomplishment of any good or great thing. these must be gotten out of the way; and if, in our first attempt, we fail to win the prize, we must make another effort, varying the manner of our labor as circumstances shall suggest. it takes only a little at a time to accomplish a great deal if we work long enough. perhaps most of you have read of the little girl whose mother was presented with a ton of coal by a charitable neighbor. she took her little fire-shovel, and began to take up the coal, a shovelful at a time, and carry it into the cellar. a friend, who was passing by, said to the child, "do you expect to get all that coal in with that little shovel?" "yes, sir," said the little girl, dipping her shovel again into the heap, "i'll do it if i work long enough." she possessed the right spirit. the true spirit of success is not to look at obstacles, but to keep the eye on the many ways in which to surmount them. this may be illustrated by the incident of the little factory girl who had one of her fingers so badly mangled in the machinery that she was obliged to have it cut off. looking at the wounded hand, she said, "that is my thimble finger; but i must learn to sew with my left hand." she did not think of her loss, but of what she still possessed with which to work. we may prosper in the several schemes in which it is lawful for christians to take part, but, if we fail to win the strife for eternal life, we shall have lived in vain. to make life a success, the glory of god must be the ruling motive to actuate us in all the walks of life. if we do really glorify him in our lives, success will surely crown our efforts--everlasting life will be our reward. another instance of perseverance, against apparently insurmountable difficulties, is given in an anecdote, not generally known out of russia, connected with a church spire of st. petersburg, which place is remarkable for its spires. the loftiest is the church of st. peter and st. paul. the spire, which is properly represented in an engraving as fading away almost into a point in the sky, is in reality terminated by a globe of considerable dimensions, on which an angel stands supporting a large cross. this angel fell into disrepair; and some suspicions were entertained that he designed visiting, uninvoked, the surface of the earth. the affair caused some uneasiness, and the government at length became greatly perplexed. to raise a scaffolding to such a height would cost more money than all the angels of this description were worth; and in meditating fruitlessly on these circumstances, without being able to resolve how to act, a considerable time was suffered to elapse. among the crowd of gazers below, who daily turned their eyes and their thoughts toward the angel, was a mujik called telouchkine. this man was a roofer of houses (a slater, as he would be called in countries where slates are used), and his speculations by degrees assumed a more practical character than the idle wonders and conjectures of the rest of the crowd. the spire was entirely covered with sheets of gilded copper, and presented to the eye a surface as smooth as if it had been one mass of burnished gold. but telouchkine knew that the sheets of copper were not even uniformly closed upon each other; and, above all, that there were large nails used to fasten them, which projected from the side of the spire. having meditated upon these circumstances till his mind was made up, the mujik went to the government and offered to repair the angel without scaffolding, and without assistance, on condition of being reasonably paid for the time expended in the labor. the offer was accepted; for it was made in russia, and by a russian. on the day fixed for the adventure, telouchkine, provided with nothing more than a coil of ropes, ascended the spire in the interior to the last window. here he looked down at the concourse of people below, and up at the glittering "needle," as it is called, tapering far above his head. but his heart did not fail him, and stepping gravely out upon the window, he set about his task. he cut a portion of the cord in the form of two large stirrups, with a loop at each end. the upper loops he fastened upon two of the projecting nails above his head, and placed his feet in the other. then digging the fingers of one hand into the interstices of the sheets of copper, he raised up one of the stirrups with the other hand, so as to make it catch a nail higher up. the same operation he performed on behalf of the other leg, and so on alternately. and thus he climbed, nail by nail, step by step, and stirrup by stirrup, till his starting-point was undistinguished from the golden surface, and the spire had dwindled in his embrace till he could clasp it all around. but telouchkine was not dismayed. he was prepared for the difficulty, and the means by which he essayed to surmount it exhibited the same astonishing simplicity as the rest of the feat. suspending himself in his stirrups, he girded the needle with a cord, the ends of which he fastened around his waist; and, so supported, he leaned gradually back, till the soles of his feet were planted against the spire. in this position, he threw, by a strong effort, a coil of cord over the ball; and so coolly and accurately was the aim taken, that at the first trial it fell in the required direction, and he saw the end hang down on the opposite side. to draw himself into his original position, to fasten the cord firmly around the globe, and with the assistance of his auxiliary to climb to the summit, were now easy portions of his task; and in a few moments more telouchkine stood by the side of the angel, and listened to the shout that burst like sudden thunder from the concourse below, yet came to his ear only like a faint and hollow murmur. the cord, which he had an opportunity of fastening properly, enabled him to descend with comparative facility; and the next day he carried up with him a ladder of ropes, by means of which he found it easy to effect the necessary repairs. this person must have put forth all the energies of his being to accomplish what he did. if we will strive as hard for the society of good angels as he did to reach the artificial one, we shall be sure of their society and a place in the new earth. the golden sun shone brightly down the world, soft shadows gathered on the twilight track; the day is gone; with all our sighs and tears we can not call one little moment back. ah, soul, what loss is thine! awaken now! let not the moments slip unheeded by; for just such moments make the golden hours that bring us nearer to eternity. richest man in the parish. the richest man in our parish was the squire. he dwelt in a great house on the hill that overlooked, with its broad white face, the whole of the village below, with its clustering cottages and neat farmers' houses, and seemed to say proudly, as it looked down, "i have my eyes on you all, and intend to keep you in order." and in truth, a great many eyes it had, with its rows of high windows brightly reflecting the summer sun, from early morning till evening, when not unfrequently the last flush in the west left them glowing as with red fire. when strangers looked up at the great house, and inquired about it, the people of our parish used to tell them with some awe what treasures of grand furniture, and pictures, and choice specimens of art, the squire had collected in its many handsome rooms; what was the worth of one picture alone, that he had refused thousands of pounds for, and the number of others that were beautiful enough, and valuable enough, to have adorned a palace. they were very proud to be able to say that so rich a man belonged to them, and lived among them, and to point out his crimson-lined and curtained pew at church, and the great tombstone that stood behind the pathway in the churchyard, recording the virtues of his ancestors, and testifying, as well as it could, to his own riches. i suppose the squire knew the homage that was paid to him, and liked it, and was proud in his turn, not of his neighbors, but of himself, and of the wealth he possessed. whenever he rode abroad, he met with bows and smiles from rich and poor, everybody made way for him, everybody courted him. a man with so much money, and so much land, and such fine furniture, and pictures, and statues, and gardens, was not to be pushed in a corner and thought little of, and he knew it, as he went along the lanes and roads on his thorough-breds, and nodded to this man, and "good-morninged" that, with some degree of condescension. he knew that he was courted, and admired, and deferred to, because of his riches, and was quite satisfied that it should be so. he did not wish to be thought ill-natured, so he gave, every year, a treat to his workpeople, and sent money, and coal, and blankets to the poor at christmas, but he thought little more about them. they were poor, and he was rich; those two words, "poor" and "rich," indicated a great difference, and he was quite well pleased there should be such a difference. one summer morning, he was taking a ride through the woods that skirted one side of his estate. it was very hot, and in the lanes the sun and the flies teased both him and his horse, so when they turned in beneath the shadows of the oaks and beeches, it was a great relief to both. the squire gave dandy the rein, and went along softly. he was soon thinking of other things than oaks and beeches. perhaps the glitter of the sunshine here and there, as it lay upon a cluster of trembling leaves, or turned to richer red the tall heads of the willow herb beside his path, suggested the crimson draperies and gilded ornaments of his home, for he was thinking of a sight he had seen there only the day before; when there had been at the birthday of his eldest son a grand gathering of friends, and a feast such as a rich man makes to the rich, with dainties, and spices, and wines, served in gold, and silver, and rarest china, in the utmost profusion, and with the greatest display. he remembered the hilarity of the guests, the healths drank, the speeches made, the compliments so freely given and taken; and with some pride he remembered, too, it had been said, that within the memory of man, no one had given so grand a feast in the parish as he had done that day. dandy's feet fell softly, and made little noise on the soft carpet of grass and last year's leaves, that covered and hid the stout roots of the oaks. it was no wonder, then, that presently the squire heard a gentle sound not far away. he became aware that some other human being than himself was in the wood, and checking his horse, he listened a moment, as words, half prayer, half praise, met his ears. "who can be praying here?" he asked himself, and as the voice was near, he pushed aside a bough or two, and stretched his head, till he could see into a little shady hollow not far from the roadside, and discovered the strange wood-guest. ah! it was only an old man, a pauper, or next door to one, whom he had frequently seen before, breaking stones by the highway. but what was the deaf old man about? "_praying!_" with his eyes shut, and his head uplifted, and his hat just taken off, held in his toil-swollen fingers, while before him was spread out his dinner--a piece of dry bread, part of a small loaf, and a can of water by his side--bread and water, nothing else; but the old man was thanking god for it, and was content. _more than content._ an expression of happy praise was on his uplifted face. such an expression the squire had not seen on any face at his own loaded table for many years. and he was thanking god for bread and water, and was happy! the old man was a sincere christian. the richest man in the parish did not understand how, when the soul loves god, the least mercies from his hands are felt to be priceless blessings; how bread and water, with a thankful heart, are sweeter to the taste than any food without it; and he felt humiliated. what right had that old man to thank god for bread and water, when _he_ never thanked him for all his great possessions? the woods closed in on him again, he left the stone-breaker behind, and his face soon assumed its usual self-satisfied expression. but during that morning's ride, again and again returned to him the picture he had seen in the green hollow, of the man who had thanked god for bread and water, and the thought of his own great riches did not give him quite its usual satisfaction. had those riches ever made him as happy as that old man looked to be over his poor meal? he was obliged to confess to himself that they had not, and it was to him a sad confession. his pride was sorely touched, and his heart disquieted, and the farther he rode, the more he felt a sense of discomfort and discontent, that was strangely new to him. presently the bright sun became overcast, great clouds gathered, and the woods looked dark and gloomy. dandy walked along untroubled by nervous fears and fancies, but an influence came over the squire for which he could not account. a strange sinking was at his heart, and an impression of coming calamity. then a voice struck his inward ear, a voice not of this world, one of those voices god sends sometimes to be heard for our good and guidance, and the words it uttered were terrible to him. that voice spoke to him clearly and distinctly, "this night the richest man in the parish will die." strange and fearful were these words. he did not look round to know whence they proceeded; he knew it was an inward and spiritual voice that spoke, and he believed what it said. with a shudder he remembered the parable of the rich man in the gospel, to whom had come the same terrible warning--"this night thy soul shall be required of thee." "what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? and what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" were words that haunted him now, and a cold perspiration covered him from head to foot. he felt that he had been an unwise merchant, who had exchanged his soul for very little. unable at length to bear his own reflections, he galloped home. [illustration: christ in the home of mary and martha] there he arrived in a state of great agitation, and alarmed his wife and family by sending at once for a physician. to all inquiries he gave the answer that he was about to die, and must prepare for it. in vain they tried to persuade him that his health was as good as ever, that he was only the subject of a nervous fancy. the physician arrived, and laughed at his fears, but he heeded neither ridicule nor entreaties. death was not a thing to be laughed or entreated away, and to death he was doomed. what did it signify what the world said about it? he must make ready for it. his solicitor was called in, and his worldly affairs settled. wife and children were all provided for, houses and lands were portioned out to his beloved ones, then he had nothing to do but prepare himself for the great change; that, however, he found impossible. in great perturbation of mind he awaited the coming of his great enemy, death. when night drew on, his fears increased; every time the great hall clock sounded the hour he shuddered, not knowing if he might ever hear it again. the physician and lawyer remained with him at his request, but they could not bring calm to his agitated mind. they could only listen to what he said, as to the ravings of a madman, for mad they judged him to be. hour after hour went by, and the richest man in the parish, lying in his splendid bed, expecting death every moment, found how poor he had become, and of how little real use all his vast possessions were to him now. midnight passed away, early morning came, light dawned upon the hills. a faint color came into the sky, and with it color once more stole back into the cheeks of the squire, and hope returned to his heart. death had not arrived as he had feared; he was still living. the night was passed, the morning was come, and the prophecy of the mysterious voice was not accomplished. his family gathered about him, and with smiles congratulated him, advising him to take his rest, now the danger was past. but how could he rest after such a night, such an upturning of all the cherished thoughts and aims of his life, such a revelation of the poverty of riches? he chose rather to walk abroad, and with thoughtful face and slow steps proceeded towards the village. there he heard that death had indeed been a visitor in one house during the night, but instead of appearing in his own grand mansion, he had entered the poorest cottage in the place--the old stone-breaker had died during the night. with a still more thoughtful face he returned home, for his heart smote him. he remembered the old man's simple dinner; he saw again the uplifted face, on which god's sunshine rested in a double sense; he heard again the words of his thankful prayer, and his own laugh of derision, and he was again humiliated, but this time to better purpose. his wife met him at the threshold of his house, with a smiling face, glad to see him once more, "clothed and in his right mind," for she, too, had feared for his reason. she accompanied him in, and then, when seated at his side, gently chided him for his last night's fears, and what she called "superstitious fancies." "i hope now," she added, "you are quite satisfied that there was no truth in what that mysterious voice told you. the night is past, and you are alive, and as well as ever." "true, my dear," he replied, "the night is past, and i am alive and well. but nevertheless the richest man in the parish _has_ died. if you will take the trouble to inquire in the village, you will find it is so." "how is that?" she asked, and as she spoke she looked round somewhat proudly, as though a rival to her grandeur had appeared. "who can be richer here than you?" "the man who can say to god, 'whom have i in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that i desire beside thee.' i cannot say that, for i have desired many things and persons besides god, and almost all things more than god. but there was a poor stone-breaker alive yesterday, who in possessing god possessed all things. i call him poor after the manner of the world, but he was really rich--an heir of the kingdom of heaven. last night i was shown his riches and my poverty. people will tell you he is dead, and i dare say that he did not leave a shilling to pay for his burial; but _he_ was '_the richest man in the parish_.'" walking with god. walking with god in sorrow's dark hour, calm and serene in his infinite power; walking with him, i am free from all dread, filled with his spirit, o! softly i tread. walking with god, o! fellowship sweet, thus to know god, and in him be complete; walking with him whom the world can not know, o! it is sweet through life thus to go. walking with god in sorrow's dark hour, soothed and sustained by his infinite power; o! it is sweet to my soul thus to live, filled with a peace which the world can not give. walking with god, o! may my life be such that my lord can walk always with me; walking with him, i shall know, day by day, that he is my father, and leads all the way. over the crossing "o please sir, take me over the crossing," said a little faint voice, as i was leisurely taking my morning walk. the strange request roused me from my reverie; and looking imploringly in my face stood a thinly-clad, shivering little girl, who carried a small bundle, which she held in her hand with a singular tenacity. i gave a searching look into the child's face, while she imploringly repeated:-- "will you take me over the crossing quick, i'm in such a hurry." tossing her in my arms i bounded over the muddy pathway; and just as i set down my little charge, the bundle slipped from her grasp, or rather its contents, leaving the empty paper in her hands, and an embroidered vest on the sidewalk. i picked up the vest, and in doing so unrolled the same, when lining, sewing-silk and padding were all disengaged, so that the nimble fingers of the poor child picked up, and brushed, and packed them together again with scrupulous care; and tying them firmly, she gave me a sweet smile and bounded along. she would soon have passed from my sight had i not again called after her, and interrogated her why she made such haste. "o sir," she replied, "because my mother must have expected me an hour ago. i have been waiting for the young gentleman at the tailor's to decide which color he preferred, and then the tailor told me to stop while he cut it, and then he gave me such a beautiful pattern for my mother to embroider it by--but it is a sight of work to do it, sir, and i'm afraid she will set up all the long nights to sew, while i am sleeping, for the man said he must have it completed by next thursday; the young gentleman is to be married then, and will want it--and if it isn't done, maybe he would never give mother another stitch of work, and then what would become of us?" and as the child hurried on i caught the same hurried footsteps, and followed on until we came to another crossing, when again came the beseeching tone:-- "will you take me over this crossing too, sir?" it was done in a trice, and my interest in the child increased as her prattle continued:-- "mamma is to have a dollar for this work, and she means to buy me a new frock with part of the money, and then we shall have a great loaf of bread and a cup of milk, and mother will find time to eat with me--if there is any money left, i shall have a little open-work straw bonnet, and go to sabbath-school with susy niles." and her little feet scarcely touched the walk, so light and fairy-like was her tread. "and does your mother work for one man all the time, little girl?" i inquired. "oh, no, sir; it is only now and then she gets such a nice job. most of the time she has to sew for shops where she earns about twenty-five cents a day, and then she has hardly enough to pay her rent, and it isn't all the time we get enough to eat--but then mother always gives me the big slice when there is one big and one little one; sometimes she cries and don't eat her's at all." a coach was passing--the child looked toward it and remarked:-- "i know the lady in that pretty carriage; she is the very one that is going to marry the young gentleman who is to wear this embroidered vest. she came to my home yesterday to get my mother to spangle the wreath round her white satin dress; and it's just the same pattern that is to be put on this vest; but she could not do it, 'cause her eyesight is so poor, and the spangles shined so." my tongue was silent. could it be that these were to be the very articles that were to be worn at my ellen's wedding? for did i not pay for spangles yesterday, and what was it that vexed ellen but because she could not find anybody to sew them on when she returned? she said mrs. taggard was almost blind. "my little girl," said i, "is your name taggard?" "yes, sir--'gusta taggard, and we live down in sullivan court. are you going home with me?" it was a sensible conjecture; for why else should i follow on? "i am going to see you safely at the door, and to help you over all the crossings." "there's only one more, sir, and here it is; we live down there at no. , on the third floor back." the child looked kindly, and as she sweetly bade me "good by, sir," i thrust my hand in my pocket and drew from it all the change it contained, which was a bright fifty cent piece, and placed it in her little palm. 'gusta taggard gave me her heartfelt thanks, and was soon out of my sight. an hour before, i had started from my home an invalid. i had long deliberated whether an exposure to a chilly east wind would not injure rather than improve me. i was melancholy, too; my only daughter was about to be married--there was confusion all over the house--the event was to be celebrated in fashionable style. ellen's dress had cost what would have been a fortune to this poor seamstress, and i moralized. but i had forgotten myself; the cough which had troubled me was no longer oppressive. i breathed quite freely, and yet i had walked more briskly than i had done for months, without so much fatigue as slow motion caused, so that when i returned, my wife rallied me upon looking ten years younger than when i left her in the morning; and when i told her the specific lay in my walk with a little prattler, and the satisfaction of having left her happier than i found her, she took the occasion to press the purchase of a diamond brooch for ellen, affirming if the gift of half a dollar made me so much happier, and that, too, to a little errand street girl, what would fifty times that amount confer upon one's only daughter, upon the eve before her marriage? i gave the diamond brooch--i paid the most extravagant bills to upholster's, dry goods establishments, confectioners and musicians, with which to enliven the great occasion, and yet i found more real satisfaction in providing for the real wants of little 'gusta taggard and her mother than in all the splendid outlay of the wedding ceremony; and it was not that it cost less which made the satisfaction, but it was that all extravagant outlays, in the very nature of things, are unsatisfactory, while ministering to the necessities of the truly needy and industrious confers its own reward. i had seen the glittering spangled dress--but it was made ready by some poor, emaciated sufferer, who toiled on in patient trust, and the embroidered vest as finished by the strained vision and aching head of another, who was emphatically one of "god's poor," upon whom blight or disgrace had not fallen, save by his appointment; and the diamond brooch was borne off by admiring throngs but to be envied and coveted, while the simple coin bestowed upon my little street acquaintance had introduced me to a new species of enjoyment that never cloys in the retrospective. i had learned to do good in small ways--my morning walks have now an object and aim. i pass by splendid palaces to hasten to sullivan court, and thence on to yet other sources of enjoyment, so that my invalidism is fast leaving me by the new direction which is given to my thoughts. i am free to acknowledge that while i cheerfully pay for flannel robes, and silverware, and servants, and all the requirements which fashion imposes, i derive far less pleasure from surveying them, than in sitting beside some worthy recipient of charity, who tells me that "the little sum you gave me saved me from despair and self-destruction, and enabled me to become helpful, so that no other assistance is now necessary." such a confession fills a void which administering to a luxury never can; and all the satisfaction originated in first helping a little child over the crossing. stop and look around! life is full of passing pleasures that are never seen or heard, little things that go unheeded-- blooming flower and song of bird; overhead, a sky of beauty; underneath, a changing ground; and we'd be the better for it if we'd stop and look around! oh, there's much of toil and worry in the duties we must meet; but we've time to see the beauty that lies underneath our feet. we can tune our ears to listen to a joyous burst of sound, and we know that god intended we should stop and look around! drop the care a while, and listen when the sparrow sings his best; turn aside, and watch the building of some little wayside nest; see the wild flower ope its petals, gather moss from stump and mound; and you'll be the better for it if you stop and look around! the fence story a man who prided himself on his morality, and expected to be saved by it, was constantly saying, "i am doing pretty well on the whole. i sometimes get mad and swear, but then i am strictly honest. i work on sabbath when i am particularly busy, but i give a good deal to the poor, and i never was drunk in my life." this man hired a canny scotchman to build a fence around his lot. he gave him very particular directions. in the evening, when the scotchman came in from his work, the man said, "well, jock, is the fence built, and is it tight and strong?" "i canna say that it is all tight and strong," replied jock, "but it is a good average fence, anyhow. if some parts are a little weak, others are extra strong. i don't know but i may have left a gap here and there, a yard wide, or so; but then i made up for it by doubling the number of rails on each side of the gap. i dare say that the cattle will find it a very good fence, on the whole, and will like it; though i canna just say that it's perfect in every part." "what!" cried the man, not seeing the point. "do you tell me that you have built a fence around my lot with weak places in it, and gaps in it? why, you might as well have built no fence at all. if there is one opening, or a place where an opening can be made, the cattle will be sure to find it, and will go through. don't you know, man, that a fence must be perfect, or it is worthless?" "i used to think so," said the dry scotchman, "but i hear you talk so much about averaging matters with the lord it seems to me we might try it with the cattle. if an average fence won't do for them, i am afraid an average character won't do for you in the day of judgment. when i was on shipboard, and a storm was driving us on the rocks, the captain cried: 'let go the anchor!' but the mate shouted back: 'there is a broken link in the cable.' did the captain say when he heard that: 'no matter, it's only one link. the rest of the chain is good. ninety-nine of the hundred links are strong. its average is high. it only lacks one per cent. of being perfect. surely the anchor ought to respect so excellent a chain, and not break away from it?' no, indeed, he shouted, 'get another chain!' "he knew that a chain with one broken link was no chain at all. that he might as well throw the anchor overboard without any cable, as with a defective one. so with the anchor of our souls. if there is the least flaw in the cable, it is not safe to trust it. we had better throw it away and try to get a new one that we know is perfect." put yourself in my place. "i cannot wait any longer. i must have my money, and if you cannot pay it i must foreclose the mortgage and sell the place," said mr. merton. "in that case," said mr. bishop, "it will of course be sold at a great sacrifice, and after the struggles i have made, my family will again be homeless. it is hard. i only wish you had to earn your money as i do mine; you might then know something of the hard life of a poor man. if you could only in imagination, put yourself in my place, i think you would have a little mercy on me." "it is useless talking; i extended this one year, and i can do so no longer," replied mr. merton, as he turned to his desk and continued writing. the poor man rose from his seat, and walked sadly out of mr. merton's office. his last hope was gone. he had just recovered from a long illness which had swallowed up the means with which he had intended to make the last payment on his house. true, mr. merton had waited one year when he failed to meet the demand owing to illness in his family, and he had felt very much obliged to him for so doing. this year he had been laid up for seven months, during which time he could earn nothing, and all his savings were then needed for the support of his family. again he failed, and now he would again be homeless, and have to begin the world anew. had heaven forsaken him, and given him over to the tender mercies of the wicked? after he had left the office, mr. merton could not drive away from his thoughts the remarks to which the poor man gave utterance, "i wish you had to earn your money as i do mine." in the midst of a row of figures, "put yourself in my place" intruded. once after it had crossed his mind he laid down his pen, saying, "well, i think i should find it rather hard. i have a mind to drop in there this afternoon and see how it fares with his family; that man has aroused my curiosity." about five o'clock he put on a gray wig and some old cast-off clothes, and walked to the door. mrs. bishop, a pale, weary-looking woman opened it. the poor old man requested permission to enter and rest a while, saying he was very tired with his long journey, for he had walked many miles that day. mrs. bishop cordially invited him in, and gave him the best seat the room afforded; she then began to make preparations for tea. the old gentleman watched her attentively. he saw there was no elasticity in her steps, no hope in her movements, and pity for her began to steal into his heart. when her husband entered, her features relaxed into a smile, and she forced a cheerfulness into her manner. the traveler noted it all, and he was forced to admire this woman who could assume a cheerfulness she did not feel, for her husband's sake. after the table was prepared (there was nothing on it but bread and butter and tea), they invited the stranger to eat with them, saying, "we have not much to offer you, but a cup of tea will refresh you after your long journey." he accepted their hospitality, and, as they discussed the frugal meal, led them without seeming to do so, to talk of their affairs. "i bought this piece of land," said mr. bishop, "at a low price, and instead of waiting, as i ought to have done, until i saved the money to build, i thought i would borrow a few hundred dollars. the interest on the money would not be near so much as the rent i was paying, and i would save something by it. i did not think there would be any difficulty in paying back the money; but the first year my wife and one of the children were ill, and the expense left me without means to pay the debt. mr. merton agreed to wait another year if i would pay the interest, which i did. this year i was for seven months unable to work at my trade and earn anything, and, of course, when pay-day comes around--and that will be very soon--i shall be unable to meet the demand." "but," said the stranger, "will not mr. merton wait another year, if you make all the circumstances known to him?" "no, sir," replied mr. bishop; "i saw him this morning, and he said he must have the money and should be obliged to foreclose." "he must be very hard-hearted," remarked the traveler. "not necessarily so," replied mr. bishop. "the fact is, these rich men know nothing of the struggles of the poor. they are men, just like the rest of mankind, and i am sure if they had but the faintest idea of what the poor have to pass through, their hearts and purses would open. you know it has passed into a proverb, 'when a poor man needs help he should apply to the poor.' the reason is obvious. only the poor know the curse of poverty. they know how heavily it falls, crushing the heart of man, and (to use my favorite expression) they can at once put themselves in the unfortunate one's place and appreciate difficulties, and are therefore ready to render assistance as far as they are able. if mr. merton had the least idea what i and my family had to pass through, i think he would be willing to wait several years for his money rather than distress us." with what emotion the stranger listened may be imagined. a new world was being opened to him. he was passing through an experience that had never been his before. shortly after the conclusion of the meal he arose to take his leave, thanking mr. and mrs. bishop for their kind hospitality. they invited him to stay all night, telling him he was welcome to what they had. he thanked them, and said, "i will trespass on your kindness no longer. i think i can reach the next village before dark, and be so much further on my journey." mr. merton did not sleep much that night; he lay awake thinking. he had received a new revelation. the poor had always been associated in his mind with stupidity and ignorance, and the first poor family he had visited he had found far in advance, in intelligent sympathy and real politeness, of the exquisite and fashionable butterflies of the day. the next day a boy called at the cottage, and left a package in a large blue envelope, addressed to mr. bishop. mrs. bishop was very much alarmed when she took it, for large blue envelopes were associated in her mind with law and lawyers, and she thought that it boded no good. she put it away until her husband came home from his work, when she handed it to him. he opened it in silence, read its contents, and said, fervently, "thank heaven!" "what is it, john?" inquired his anxious wife. "good news, wife," replied john; "such news as i never hoped for or even dreamed of." "what is it? what is it? tell me quickly! i want to hear, if it is anything good." "mr. merton has canceled the mortgage; released me from the debt, both interest and principal; and says any time i need further assistance, if i will let him know, i shall have it." "i am so glad! it puts new life into me," said the now happy wife. "but what can have come over mr. merton?" "i do not know. it seems strange after the way he talked to me yesterday morning. i will go right over to mr. merton's, and tell him how happy he has made us." he found mr. merton in, and expressed his gratitude in glowing terms. "what could have induced you," he asked, "to show us so much kindness?" "i followed your suggestion," replied mr. merton, "and put myself in your place. i expect that it will surprise you very much to learn that the strange traveler to whom you showed so much kindness yesterday was i." "indeed!" exclaimed mr. bishop, "can that be true? how did you disguise yourself so well?" "i was not so much disguised, after all; but you could not very readily associate mr. merton, the lawyer, with a poor wayfaring man." "well, it is a good joke," said mr. bishop; "good in more senses than one. it has terminated very pleasantly for me." "i was surprised," said mr. merton, "at the broad and liberal views you expressed of men and their actions generally. i supposed i had greatly the advantage over you in means and education; yet how cramped and narrow-minded have been my views beside yours! that wife of yours is an estimable woman, and that boy of yours will be an honor to any man. i tell you, bishop," said the lawyer, becoming animated, "you are rich--rich beyond what money could make; you have treasures that gold will not buy. i tell you, you owe me no thanks. somehow i seem to have lived years since yesterday morning. what i have learned at your house is worth more than you owe me, and i am your debtor yet. hereafter i shall take as my motto, 'put yourself in his place,' and try to regulate my actions by it." we cannot measure the need of even the tiniest flower, nor check the flow of the golden sands that run through a single hour. but the morning dews must fall, and the sun and summer rain must do their part and perform it all, over and over again. the path that has once been trod is never so rough to the feet; and the lesson we once have learned is never so hard to repeat. though sorrowful tears may fall, and the heart to its depths be driven with storm and tempest; we need them all to render us meet for heaven. forgive and forget. forgive and forget, it is better to fling all ill feeling aside than allow the deep, cankering fetter of revenge in your breast to abide; for your step o'er life's path will be lighter, when the load from your bosom is cast, and the glorious sky will seem brighter, when the cloud of displeasure has passed. though your spirit swell high with emotion to give back injustice again, sink the thought in oblivion's ocean, for remembrance increases the pain. o, why should we linger in sorrow, when its shadow is passing away,-- or seek to encounter to-morrow, the blast that o'erswept us to-day? our life's stream is a varying river, and though it may placidly glide when the sunbeams of joy o'er it quiver, it must foam when the storm meets its tide. then stir not its current to madness, for its wrath thou wilt ever regret; though the morning beams break on thy sadness, ere the sunset, forgive and forget. --_robert gray._ the infidel captain the ship _st. thomas_, captain, robert williams, was bound from new york to liverpool, in the month of june. favored by a fresh westerly wind, she soon cleared the land, and on the first sunday out was going along finely with all drawing sail set. the chief mate, mr. wm. briggs, after the crew had breakfasted, and the watch had been set, asked the captain if he had any objections to calling the men aft to prayers. "no objection whatever, mr. briggs, provided you do the preaching and praying yourself; for you know well enough that i have but little faith in such exercises." captain williams was between forty and fifty years of age, a plain, blunt seaman, who was more ambitious of being considered an enterprising shipmaster than a christian. his mate was not quite thirty, and was indebted to him for his promotion from before the mast to second mate, and then to that of chief mate; they had sailed together many years, and each had boundless confidence in the other. appreciating the motives of his mate, he always permitted him to have prayers on board when the state of the weather was favorable, although he took no interest in religious matters himself. mr. briggs ordered the watch to arrange some seats on the quarter-deck, while he went forward himself and invited the watch below to come aft, and listen to the reading of the scriptures, and such other religious exercises as the occasion might suggest, remarking at the same time, that it was not his desire to force any man against his will. without a murmur the watch below, as well as that on deck, repaired to the quarter-deck, and were soon seated around the capstan. the captain took charge of the deck himself, that is, looked out for the proper steerage of the ship, and relieved the second mate, whose watch it was, to join the men at prayers. these arrangements completed, the chief mate placed a bible on the capstan, read a chapter from the new testament, made some remarks upon it, and then prayed; after which he read a sermon, and closed with prayer. the whole exercise occupied about an hour, and seemed to produce a good effect upon the men, who, during the rest of the day in their intercourse with one another, talked about religion. that afternoon, when it was the mate's watch on deck, captain williams entered into conversation with him as follows:-- "i say, briggs, what does all your preaching and praying amount to in the long run? i have managed to get along very well thus far without either, and if i were to die to-day, i could safely say that i never injured any man knowingly, and have always endeavored to do my duty to my family and to all. what more can a man do, even if he has all the religion in the world?" "captain williams," replied the mate, "this world, sir, is not our home; we are here only for a few short years, and then we go to the place for which we have prepared ourselves." "place!" interrupted the captain, "place--what do you or i or any one else know about any other place than this world? place, indeed! you do not suppose that i am silly enough to believe the bible, with its strange fish-stories, and unaccountable yarns about miracles, etc.?" "yet," replied the mate, "you believe bowditch's navigator, and rely upon its statements." "of course i do, because i have tested their correctness by actual experience." "and for the same reason i believe the bible, and so will you, sir, when you come to christ and learn of him the truth." "i have heard that statement before, briggs. but how would you propose for me to come to christ?" "by retiring to your stateroom alone, sir, and throwing yourself upon your knees, and imploring him with your whole soul to enlighten you. continue this process every moment you can spare from the ship's duty, and i will be answerable that you will not pray long in vain, if you pray sincerely." "but you must first convince me, briggs, that the bible is true before i make a fool of myself in my stateroom." "my dear captain," replied the mate, "i cannot convince you, that is the work of the holy spirit; but i can, and often do pray for you. yet let us recur to bowditch's navigator again, and see if we cannot make out a case from it in favor of the bible. both of us believe the navigator, yet neither of us knows thoroughly the principles by which all its numerous tables have been calculated, many of which we use every day without question. if we make a bad landfall, or, at the end of a day discover that we have made a different course from that which we projected, we do not attribute the errors to bowditch, but to our own miscalculation. it is just so with the humble inquirer after truth; the bible is his navigator; he believes it the fountain of living truth, endeavors to shape the course of his life by it; and when he errs, he looks for the error in himself, not in the bible." "still, briggs," said the captain, "i don't believe the bible. the fact is, i have never looked into it since i was a boy." "the greater your loss, captain; but i have no doubt your mother believed it, and has often spoken to you about god, and christ, and taught you to pray when you were a child. if you will take the trouble to visit jim wood's gin-palace, in playhouse square, when we reach liverpool, and enter into conversation with the people there about the bible, they will laugh at you, and sneeringly tell you it is a humbug; in short, repeat your own arguments; but if you will leave there and obtain admission into the best society, you will find that every person present will speak with reverence of the bible. now i know you love good company here, and that you dislike the low, vulgar conversation of the profane; therefore, i should like to see you make some effort to prepare yourself for the society of the redeemed in heaven." "what you have said about my mother, briggs, is true as the needle to the pole, god bless her; i can't help saying so, for she was good to me; and if there is a heaven she is sure of it." "and, of course, captain, you would like to join her there, when you have run down your reckoning here. you have either to join her, or such fellows as those who frequent places like jim wood's. which like you the best--gamblers, drunkards, and thieves, or your mother? this is the simple question which you must decide for yourself." here the ship's duty interrupted the conversation, but that night captain williams thought much of the teachings of his mother, her earnest prayers to god in his behalf, and the flimsy arguments with which he had so long deluded himself about the bible; and the more he thought the more uneasy he became. he felt that he was a sinner in the sight of god, unworthy of the many favors he enjoyed, and during the whole of that passage, whenever an opportunity offered he engaged in earnest conversation with his mate. he was alarmed at the prospect of being forever separated from his mother, for he loved her dearly; and this feeling soon gave birth to others of a more spiritual nature, and finally he was led to exclaim, "what shall i do to be saved?" every heart has its own sorrow "every heart has its own sorrow." there was a sad smile upon the lips that said it, and the eyes of the speaker were full of unshed tears, as if the heart rebelled a little, while a sigh stole up and was breathed out wearily. she sat in the full glow of the firelight, a patient, gentle woman, and on a low cushion at her feet was a young girl with her face hidden in her hands and sobbing passionately. "don't think so much about it, maggie; it is all for the best. it seems strange and dark now, but the time will come when you will see that it was all right." all the time she smoothed softly the golden curls that fell over the flushed forehead--the head was lifted at length, and a fair face looked up, stained and swollen with weeping. "i can't see how you can say this, miss levick. the time will never come when i shall see that it was all right." the young face was hidden again, and tears dropped like rain through the small, white fingers. by and by they ceased flowing and the head was laid with a long, tired sob upon the lap where it had rested before. the hours went by in silence, while the firelight shone clear and steady in the room, sometimes bathing the watchers in its radiance, then flickering and going out like the hopes that they had cherished. maggie harlan had cause to weep. six years before her mother died, just as the sensitive, high-spirited child was learning to feel her need of a tender counselor, whose love was even greater than the many faults that tried it sorely. her eldest brother graduated, and with impaired health went to cuba for the winter. he never returned, so maggie had only her father to cling to. mr. harlan almost idolized her, but he was an invalid, and felt that his child needed some influence besides his own in molding aright a character that already showed strong points, that might be shaped for good or evil. bidding farewell to the old home they removed to a quiet country village, where there was a long-established female seminary, and here maggie had been to school, advised, aided, and benefited by mrs. champlan, the head of the school, and also the mother of daughters, causing her to take a warmer interest perhaps in the motherless girl, who not only proved an amiable pupil, but a brilliant scholar. mrs. champlan employed numerous teachers, and it is with one we find maggie. miss levick had been there only six months. she was not one of those brilliant characters that dazzle at first acquaintance; but she possessed a quiet, unobtrusive loveliness that won surely upon the affections of those who knew her. she had learned many lessons in the school of life; adversity and sorrow had been her teachers, and if they had made darkness in her heart, it was in this she had learned patience, and lip and eye told by their chastened beauty of a peace, storms could not disturb. maggie harlan knew nothing of her history; she had come a stranger to dalton. well educated, a skilful musician, and speaking the languages with fluency, mrs. champlan was glad to employ her; and to maggie especially had she proved a most devoted friend. mr. harlan's health had been slowly but surely failing since the death of his wife, but his friends were so accustomed to his pale face and wasted figure that they little realized how near his feet were to the dark river. hopeful and cheerful, he seldom spoke of bodily infirmities. three months ago he left home partly to attend to business in a distant city, and partly from the hope that travel might be of service to him. he only reached the place of his destination, was seized with severe hemorrhage, and died in a few hours. only strangers were with him, strangers ministered to his last wants, and strangers sent back to his home the news of the desolation that had come to it. it was a terrible blow to maggie; all the more terrible for falling so suddenly. she moved about in a kind of stupor for several days, till the funeral was over, and she was left alone with no other friend than miss levick. it was uncertain with regard to mr. harlan's property. he had always passed for a man of wealth, lived handsomely, and enjoyed all that money could bring. but maggie remembered that he had often spoken anxiously with regard to the future, and it was with some misgivings that she awaited the investigation of his affairs. it proved as she feared. there was very little property beyond what would pay outstanding debts, and a very heavy mortgage was held upon the place where they lived. it was arranged that maggie should go to mrs. champlan, graduate with the close of the present term, and then become a teacher. this is the last night in the dear old home; all day has maggie borne up bravely--now utterly overcome. "it is a hard lesson to learn, darling, but some hearts have learned it, and when the agony was passed have blessed god for so teaching them. sorrow sooner or later comes to all, and it works in the heart of each patience or despair. it all depends upon the way and manner in which they receive it." "perhaps you have the power to choose," said maggie, "but i have not. it is not so much for you to be patient; it is your nature, and then you can't have so great cause for grief." how miss levick's heart went backward at the words of this weeping child, while she repeated to herself many a precious promise. hour after hour they sat there; the sun had gone down, and the purple twilight shrouded the outer world; while maggie's thoughts were busy with memories of the beautiful past, that was gone from her forever--shrinking from the future that looked so blank and cheerless, and keen agony as the present sorrow rose up in all its intensity--a radiant cup of joy dashed from her lips just as she was beginning to taste its sweetness, and her heart was full of murmuring and despair. miss levick's words irritated instead of soothed her, and she could not help feeling there was not so much sympathy as she had a right to expect. the teacher felt all this, and her tears dropped silently as she thought over maggie's words. "you have not so great cause for grief." there was a lesson in her past life that her heart prompted her to unveil for the instruction of the young mourner, and though she shrank from the task she determined it should be done. "maggie," she began in a low voice, "i have no home, maggie. there are times when my path looks dreary to me. once loving hands clasped mine, but one by one they have all lost their hold upon me and crumbled away into dust, while i am left to walk alone. i do not murmur at this, though there have been times when my heart has said, 'the almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me.' and if you will listen i will tell you how a heart more impulsive and passionate than yours was brought to rest quietly in the hands of one who doeth all things well. "i was born in new england, and amid its wild, picturesque scenery i grew to love nature most devoutly--not calm, serene, quiet; i gloried in the war of elements, the play of the winds, the lightning, the thunder. when very young it was one of my pastimes to be out in the rain-storms; there was something in this akin to my own passionate nature. i did not like anything tame and restrained. my mother was a warm-hearted, loving woman, but so given to the world, so immersed in the whirl of society that she could not spend much time with her children. she saw that we were well fed, well dressed, well behaved, and her duty was done. i remember so well how prettily she looked--the dainty cap and collar, and when i used to put my arms about her neck and tell her how pretty she was, she would put me aside for fear i should spoil her toilet. "my father was a proud-spirited man, who dearly loved my wild, uncontrolled ways; there was no danger of mussing him, and rare sport we used to have during his hours of leisure. i loved my father fondly, and people said that i had more influence over him than any other human being. wealthy, and possessed of a social disposition, our house was a rendezvous for all. an englishman by birth, my father was accustomed to seeing his sideboard well filled, and by degrees he grew to frequent it too often. "when i was about twelve years old my mother died, and after four years spent in school i returned to find a great change in my father. he would at times be gloomy and morose for days together, keeping the whole house in a state of fear and discomfort by his sudden caprice and unreasonable exactions. this would pass away and he would appear as usual. these attacks grew to be more frequent, and at last came to be his habitual frame, and his frequent absence from home, which at first was a great sorrow to me, came to be looked for as a great relief. "months passed on, and at last i woke up to know what others had known for a long time, that my father was drinking deeply and losing constantly at play. o, maggie, i can never tell you the terrible suffering through which i passed. i left society and shut myself up at home, determined, if it was possible, to save him. i had influence with him: but how could i appeal to him--how let him know that i knew the places he frequented and the company he kept! "then change came. i grew indignant that he should bring all this misery upon me--the poverty and disgrace that i felt sure must follow such a course. then in a moment of tenderness i would plead and expostulate with him, begging him with tears to leave his habits of dissipation for my sake, for his own sake, for the sake of my dead mother; while he would talk and weep, telling me that he could not break away; there was something continually drawing him to the gaming-house--he knew it was ruining him, but he must go, while the bitter, burning tears would roll over his face. little by little every available article of property was disposed of and poverty stared us in the face. "at length my father's constitution failed under the wear of constant excitement, and he was forced to leave his customary resort and confine himself to the house, and not unfrequently to his bed. remorse preyed upon him, and his sufferings at times were terrible. with all this i was not impatient, neither did i leave him, for it was a part of my being, the love i had for him; and though at times a flood of bitterness possessed my soul--wretched, helpless, tortured with distress of mind and body, i sought to comfort and console him. "he lingered for two years a pitiable wreck of what he had once been, and died, i trust, repentant, leaving me alone and utterly destitute. "i had relatives in baltimore, said to be wealthy, and for a few weeks i trusted in their kindness; but there was no notice of my letters for a long time, and then one came couched so blandly, sympathizing with me in my loss, hoping i was well, but saying not a word of the future, or manifesting the least care or concern for what might become of me. bitter were the tears, but it roused me. i determined to rely upon myself. my father had been a thorough scholar, and i was educated according to his system. there was nothing superficial, and the extent of my reading, both in english and the classics, was far more than the course usually prescribed for ladies. i also inherited a talent for music which had been carefully cultivated, so that i was well able to teach any branch that might be desired. through the kindness of our family physician i obtained a situation in a seminary at some distance from my home, as music teacher. my deep mourning, together with my extreme youth, procured sympathy and kindness from many; but i rejected all the overtures and led a life of perfect isolation, as much alone as if in a wilderness. i aimed to be kind and courteous in my demeanor to all, but no one was admitted in the least degree into my confidence, and every emotion was carefully concealed from observation. satisfied with my books and my music, learning language after language, not that i liked study so passionately, but it made me forget, i felt that i never could be again what i had been. my chief solace, when not studying, was at the instrument; and here with my pupils did i spend hour after hour, reveling not alone in the written music, but improvising according to my will. these pieces pleased me best, for here i could pour out my anguished feelings, the mournful, withering wail of my despair. "how long this might have lasted i can not say; but my heavenly father, against whom my heart, without knowing it, rebelled so grievously, was pleased to deal mercifully with me, and sent me in my withering, deadening grief a great and precious gift. you have often asked me about this miniature, maggie," and she unclasped a bracelet from her arm. it was richly chased, and contained the likeness of a noble-looking man in the prime of manhood. "it was my husband, my noble, generous husband," and she pressed her lips to the dumb semblance. "harris levick was an inmate of the same boardinghouse with me, but for a long time we were as perfect strangers. he pitied me at first; and not repulsed by the manner in which his advances were met, he persevered until my heart gave way, and i learned first to regard him as a friend, a brother, and after that to love him with all the devotion of one whose love flowed in but one channel to one object. once more i entered society because he wished it, and again sunshine rested in my heart and on my life. "months passed; we were married, and i left my labors at the seminary to preside over a home simple in all its furnishing, for harris was not wealthy, but oh, what a paradise it was to me! we had books, flowers, and music. we had young hearts full of love for each other and hope for the future, and for one short year i forgot all the bitterness of the past; and when love's signet ring was clasped with one sweet pearl i felt that god was good to me, and thought i was grateful for his blessings. four years with rare delight swept over me, and when god touched my treasures i found that my heart was as proud and as bitter as ever. "harris was a lawyer, with fine talent and a steadily increasing practice. for a young man he was said to excel, and all looked forward to a brilliant future for him. how many times we talked over the home we should possess in a few years, planning its surroundings and its adornments with almost satisfaction, hardly thinking that change might mar the programme; and still would harris often close this dreaming by, 'if god wills,' and seated by his side with no wish for anything beyond his love, i too could respond, 'if god wills.' yes, it was easy to say, 'thy will be done,' when that will brought me only what i craved. "we had been married four years. willie, my precious baby, was three years old, the joy of our home, the dearest, most affectionate little heart. there was a particular case on the docket. my husband had need of all his skill and ability, besides it was necessary that he should meet personally with several connected with it, and on whom much depended. this rendered a journey to chicago necessary. how i remember the morning he left me; bright and beautiful as it was, i could not help the tears that would come. true, it was comparatively a short journey, still i could not keep down the sobs. "'i shall be gone only a week, darling, it will soon pass. cheer up, here is willie, bright as a sunbeam, and i will write if possible every day.' "try as i would, i could not restrain myself. "'why, allie, had i thought you would have felt so bad i would not have gone.' "'it is very foolish i know, harris, but it seems to me that i shall never see you again,' and i wept convulsively. "'god bless and keep my treasures,' said harris. "i kissed him passionately again and again, and then saw the door close after him. "it was two days before i heard from my husband; he was well, business prospering, would be home in the time specified, and i was sorry that i had been so foolish; the days were pleasant, and he needed change; he might have made a pleasant excursion of it if i had not been so babyish; and i told willie of all my weakness, and i promised i would never give way again. i knew my husband was never so happy as when at home; he was ambitious in his profession, a stirring business man; it would be necessary for him to go away often, and his leaving should never be clouded again. thus i resolved. willie, putting his dimpled arms about my neck would say to me, 'good, pretty ma, don't cry any more when pa goes away.' "the week was nearly passed, harris would close his business and leave in the morning. how my heart thrilled as at night i dressed myself carefully, and put the little suit his father liked best on willie! then, seating myself and taking my baby on my lap, i rocked him and told him stories to while the time away till i heard the tramp of the iron horse. "nine o'clock rung out from the little french clock on the mantel. a moment and the rumbling of the cars was heard, while the whistle screeched out its warning, and willie bounded from my arms, 'pa come, pa come!' "'not yet, darling,' and i whiled him back to wait patiently. it was far past his usual bedtime, but his eyes were never brighter. this was an unusual occasion, and he could sleep later in the morning. an hour passed, it seemed to me an age; again and again i went to the door to listen. by and by there was a carriage at the gate, and footsteps coming up the graveled walk. "'there is more than one; my husband must have brought company, that is what has kept him so long at the depot.' and i took willie by the hand and opened the door. four gentlemen stood on the steps, but my husband was not among them. i staggered back, and should have fallen but for the kindly care of one. "'tell me all; i can bear it; my husband is dead.' "i did not need the words, i knew it. but when they told me of the accident, the terrible collision, the fearful death of so many, and my husband among the number, i felt the good slipping away from me. my grief was too bitter, my eyes were dry, and my brain like bursting. why should god take one and not the other? and i clasped my child to my heart; and if i ever prayed earnestly it was that we might both go. "'we thought it would be a comfort to you to see your husband; the body will soon be here.' "and the humane man began making preparations to receive it. all the while i sat mechanically clasping my child tightly and passionately, asking to be taken out of a life so wretched as mine would be without his presence. "the door opened, and a litter borne by four men was placed in the middle of the room. gently they arranged everything, and with the delicacy of those who know what sorrow is, left me alone with my dead. "there lay my husband dressed just as when he left chicago--his face calm and serene, while the blood still oozed from a wound in the temple, and his breast was mangled and bleeding; still i could not make it real, while willie begged so hard for 'pa to wake up.' poor child! he could not realize his misery; he did not know what it was to be fatherless. "days passed. they put my dead from me. how was i to live without him? alas! had i read the lesson rightly i should perhaps have been spared another. hardly three months had passed when scarlet fever broke out in the village, and willie sickened and died. "my cup was full; the waves of bitterness rolled over me; i was ready to curse god who had dealt so severely with me; and no words can describe the darkness, like the shadow of death, that settled over my soul. i neither wept nor prayed. i thought of god only as an enemy whose hand was relentlessly against me, and every power of my body and mind seemed locked up by a stony despair. i followed my baby to the grave, but it was as one who neither saw nor heard. i went back to my lonely home and brooded silently over my hard fate. [illustration: he is not here; he is risen] "the autumn days hung their beauty all around me, but i had no eye to see, no ear to catch the joyfulness floating around me. christmas came, a bright, beautiful winter morning, and i stood by the window watching passers-by. there were no friends, no christmas cheer for me. why was my fate so pitiless? as i stood by the window, my heart making bitter responses to every peal of the bell, our clergyman passed, a kind, benevolent-hearted man; he bowed kindly, and then entered. "'are you not going out this morning, mrs. levick?' "'no sir. i have nothing to rejoice over, unless it be that every drop in my cup has turned to bitterness.' "he did not answer me at once, but taking both my hands, and looking earnestly into my face said, 'almost every house was smitten; we lost two of our darlings.' "he passed on to the church, and presently i heard the swelling notes of the organ, and the voice of the people. every note came directly to my ear, for the door was being opened and closed continually. "'ah!' thought i, 'they can sing, they can observe christmas; they have lost only children, i have lost all.' "when the service was over i watched to see the people go back to their homes. my heart smote me not a little as i saw that not less than one-half the congregation wore the badge of bereavement. there was a widow with her fatherless children; feeble age tottered on missing the strong arm of manhood on which it had been accustomed to lean; little children, motherless, walked with demure steps by their father's side; and there a lonely couple thinking of the little ones that used to follow them with dancing steps. "'what a wretched, suffering world it is!' and i bowed my head upon my hands and wept, the first tears i had shed since they took my baby from my arms. just then baby's old nurse came in--the dear old motherly heart--the sight of my grief touched her. "'he knoweth what is best; each heart has its own sorrow,' and she held me in her arms just as she used to hold willie. then she talked to me a long time of god's goodness and love; that he knew and pitied our anguish; that this life was not all, there was a future, and that it would not be long till we should stand on the farther shore. "somehow her simple words went directly to my heart; and although i wept till i was nearly exhausted it did me good, and that night i slept like a child. "i awoke next morning with a strange feeling of weakness in every limb, and a sense of bewilderment and confusion that i tried in vain to shake off. past events, even my recent bereavement, would rise up for an instant before me, and then float away into dim distance. i was prostrate with high fever, through which i was tenderly watched by mrs. bryan, aided by friends whose approach i did not now repel. "after long delirium and unconsciousness i awoke at last to reason, and for several days bore reluctantly with what i fancied was mrs. bryan's needless caution in keeping the room so dark. at length i could bear it no longer, i wanted to see the sunlight once more, and insisted that the window should be opened. poor mrs. bryan put me off till to-morrow, then the curtains were rolled up, and the blinds thrown open; i knew it, for i felt the pure air on my cheek. but, alas! i could dimly see the sun shining through the rose tree, and the white spire of the village church; all was dim and faint as before. "it was not that my room was darkened; the light had gone out of my eyes, i was almost blind; i should never see the sunshine nor the flowers again; all my life i must be a helpless, dependent creature, a burden to myself and to others. "i remembered then my ingratitude, the hardness of my heart, because he had taken my idols, and i felt the lord had justly smitten me. day after day i could see less of the flickering sunlight, and at length it was gone to me entirely. "oh how beautiful now seemed to me the broad green earth! how i longed to look upon the sweet flowers! once i would not look at them because they reminded me of those his hands had so often gathered for me. now i longed but to look at them, while the song of the birds filled me with pleasant music. for hours did i sit and listen to the robins as they crooned out their love songs in the old elm tree, when suddenly a thought struck me: 'these winged creatures warble and bask in the sunlight, answering the purpose of their existence, while i, a rational creature, am gloomy and sad of heart, and full of complainings. i am of more consequence in his sight than a bird.' these reflections brought tears, and i found myself offering up a prayer that i too might become as happy in the purpose of my life. this prayer was the earnest wish of my heart, and it was not long till i found the saviour, and, leaning upon him, felt happier in my blindness than when i walked alone with my wicked heart. "my chastening was severe, but the lord raised up friends in my necessity. after three months of total blindness, the result of long-continued nervous excitement, my sight was gradually restored. in the meantime i had made the acquaintance of a family from the south, who pressed me so kindly to return with them to their own home that i could not refuse. "this home was in the suburbs of new orleans, where the mild air and sweet perfume of orange groves did much toward establishing health. alas, that blight, war and desolation should sweep over such a home! how i felt i hardly know, nor in what way i found myself in camp and hospital. the lengthened watch that knew no variation in the long wards, the terrible suffering of the brave men who had periled their all for the union, and i ministering to their wants, aiding them to bear suffering patiently, binding up their wounds, above all, pointing them to him whose precious love had brought him to do more for them than they had done for others--sad as it was, it was no doubt the very thing for me; i forgot my own griefs, personal sorrow was unthought of. i felt thankful for the benefits i had received, leaned more and more upon his protecting care, and looked forward, not blindly and with mute despair, but with hope of a joyful reunion on the other shore. for me i can say, 'it is good that i have been afflicted.' i feel a firm confidence in the goodness and mercy that will not leave me nor forsake me." the hands of the clock were slowly creeping past the midnight hour; the leaping flames were gone; in their place were only embers glowing redly under the white ashes, even as hope will live and glow in a strong heat under all the smoldering ashes of disappointment. maggie rose from her seat and folded her arms about her teacher's neck. "i pray god to teach me the sweet lesson you have learned. i am so sorry that i said 'you had not so much cause for grief as i.' but why do they call you miss levick?" "your question is very natural. it was simply a mistake on the part of mrs. champlan, and i had not energy enough at the time to correct it. after that i felt it was just as well, i should escape questioning." they went forth in a few hours, each to her appointed lot, and the angels looked down upon them both. alone. "alone with god!" the keynote this of every holy life, the secret power of fragrant growth, and victory over strife. "alone with god!" in private prayer and quietness we feel that he draws near our waiting souls, and doth himself reveal. "alone with god!" earth's laurels fade, ambition tempts not there; the world and self are judged aright, and no false colors wear. "alone with god!" true knowledge gained, while sitting at his feet; we learn life's greatest lessons there, which make for service meet. evening prayer. "our father." the mother's voice was low and tender, and solemn. "our father." on two sweet voices the tones were borne upward. it was the innocence of reverent children that gave them utterance. "who art in heaven." "who art in heaven," repeated the children, one with her eyes bent meekly down, and the other looking upward, as if she would penetrate the heavens into which her heart was aspiring. "hallowed be thy name." lower fell the voice of the little ones. in a gentle murmur they said,-- "hallowed be thy name." "thy kingdom come." and the burden of the prayer was still taken by the children-- "thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," filled the chamber. and the mother continued-- "give us this day our daily bread." "our daily bread," lingered a moment on the air, as the mother's voice was hushed into silence. "and forgive us our debts as we also forgive our debtors." "and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." "for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever." "amen." all these holy words were said piously and fervently by the little ones, as they knelt with clasped hands beside their mother. then as their thoughts, uplifted on the wings of prayer to their heavenly father, came back again and rested on their earthly parents, a warmer love came gushing from their hearts. pure kisses--tender kisses--the fond "good-night." what a sweet agitation pervaded all their feelings. then two dear heads were placed side by side on the snowy pillows, the mother's last good-night kiss given, and the shadowy curtains drawn. what a pulseless stillness reigns without the chamber. inwardly, the parents' ears are bent. they have given those innocent ones into the keeping of god's angels, and they can almost hear the rustle of their garments as they gather around their sleeping babes. a sigh, deep and tremulous, breaks on the air. quickly the mother turns to the father of her children, with a look of earnest inquiry upon her countenance. and he answers thus her silent questions:-- "far back through many years have my thoughts been wandering. at my mother's knee thus said i nightly my childhood's evening prayer. it was that best and holiest of all prayers, 'our father,' that she taught me. childhood and my mother passed away. i went forth as a man into the world, strong, confident, and self-seeking. once i came into great temptation. had i fallen in that temptation, i should have fallen never to rise again. i was about yielding. all the barriers i could oppose to it in the in-rushing flood, seemed just ready to give way, when, as i sat in my room one evening, there came from an adjoining chamber, now first occupied for many weeks, the murmur of low voices. i listened. at first no articulate sound was heard, and yet something in the tones stirred my heart with new and strong emotions. at length there came to my ears, in the earnest, loving voice of a woman, the words,-- "'deliver us from evil.' "for an instant, it seemed to me as if that voice were that of my mother. back with a sudden bound, through all the intervening years, went my thoughts, and a child again i was kneeling at my mother's knee. humbly and reverently i said over the words of the holy prayer she had taught me, heart and eye uplifted to heaven. the hour and power of darkness had passed. i was no longer standing in slippery places, with a flood of water ready to sweep me to destruction; but my feet were on a rock. my pious mother's care had saved her son. in the holy words she had taught me in childhood was a living power to resist evil through all my after life. ah! that unknown mother, as she taught her child to repeat this evening prayer, how little dreamed she that the holy words were to reach a stranger's ears, and save him through the memory of his own childhood and his own mother. and yet it was so. what a power there is in god's word, as it flows into and rests in the minds of innocent childhood." tears were in the eyes of the wife and mother, as she lifted her face and gazed with a subdued tenderness, upon the countenance of her husband. her heart was too full for utterance. a little while she thus gazed, and then with a trembling joy, laid her hand upon his bosom. angels were in the chamber where their dear ones slept, and they felt their holy presence. hallowed, ay, hallowed! not alone in prayer, but in our daily thoughts and daily speech; at altar and at hearthstone--everywhere that temple-priests or home-apostles preach. oh, not by words alone, but by our deeds, and by our faith, and hope, and spirit's flame, and by the nature of our private creeds, we hallow best, and glorify _thy_ name. nature doth hallow it. in every star, and every flower, and leaf, and leaping wave, she praises thee, who, from thy realm afar, such stores of beauty to this fair earth gave. but these alone should not thy love proclaim-- our hearts, our souls respond--"_all hallowed be thy name_." the happy new year "happy new year, papa!" the sitting-room doors were thrown open, and a sweet little girl came bounding in. her cheeks were all aglow. smiles played around her cherry lips, and her eyes were dancing with sunny light. "happy new year, my sweet one!" responded mr. edgar, as he clasped the child fondly to his heart. "may all your new years be happy," he added, in a low voice, and with a prayer in his heart. little ellen laid her head in confiding love against her father's breast, and he bent down his manly cheek until it rested on the soft masses of her golden hair. to her it was a happy new year's morning, and the words that fell from her lips were heart-echoes. but it was not so with mr. edgar. the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, had, like evil weeds, found a rank growth in his heart, while good seeds of truth, which in earlier life had sent forth their fresh, green blades, that lifted themselves in the bright, invigorating sunshine, gave now but feeble promise for the harvest-time. no; mr. edgar was not happy. there was a pressure on his feelings; an unsatisfied reaching out into the future; a vague consciousness of approaching evil. very tenderly he loved his little one; and as she lay nestling against him, he could not help thinking of the time when he was a child, and when the new years were happy ones. ellen loved no place so well as her father's arms. when they were folded tightly around her, she had nothing more to desire; so she lay very still and silent, while the thoughts of her father wandered away from the loving child on his bosom to his own unsatisfied state of mind. "for years," he said within himself, "i have been in earnest pursuit of the means of happiness, yet happiness itself seems every year to be still farther in the distance. there is something wrong. i cannot be in the true path. my days are busy and restless, my nights burdened with schemes that rarely do more than cheat my glowing fancy. what is the meaning of this?" and mr. edgar fell into a deep reverie, from which he was aroused by the voice of his wife, as she laid her hand upon his shoulder. "a happy new year, and many joyful returns!" she said, in loving tones, as she pressed her lips to his forehead. he did not answer. the tenderly spoken good wishes of his wife fell very gratefully, like refreshing dew, upon his heart; but he was distinctly conscious of not being happy. so far as worldly condition was concerned, mr. edgar had no cause of mental depression. his business was prosperous under a careful management, and every year he saw himself better off by a few thousand dollars. always, however, it must be told, the number fell short of his expectations. "there is something wrong." mr. edgar's thoughts were all running in one direction. a startling truth seemed suddenly to be revealed to him, and he felt inclined to look at it in all possible aspects. "why am i not happy?" that was urging the question home; but the answer was not given. after breakfast, mr. edgar left home and went to his store. as he passed along the street, he saw at a window the face of a most lovely child. her beauty, that had in it something of heavenly innocence, impressed him so deeply that he turned to gain a second look, and in doing so his eyes saw on the door of the dwelling the name of abraham james. there was an instant revulsion of feeling; and for the first time that morning mr. edgar remembered one of the causes of his uncomfortable state of mind. abraham james was an unfortunate debtor who had failed to meet his obligations, among which were two notes of five hundred dollars each, given to mr. edgar. these had been placed by the latter in the hands of his lawyer, with directions to sue them out, and obtain the most that could be realized. only the day before--the last day of the year--he had learned that there were two judgments that would take precedence of his, and sweep off a share of the debtor's property. the fact had chafed him considerably, causing him to indulge in harsh language toward his debtor. this language was not just, as he knew in his heart. but the loss of his money fretted him, and filled him with unkind feelings toward the individual who had occasioned the loss. no wonder that mr. edgar was unhappy. as he continued on his way, the angry impulse that quickened the blood in his veins subsided, and through the mist that obscured his mental vision, he saw the bright face of a child, the child of his unfortunate debtor. his own precious one was no lovelier, no purer; nor had her lips uttered on that morning in sweeter tones, the words, "a happy new year, papa!" how the thought thrilled him. with his face bowed, and his eyes upon the ground, mr. edgar walked on. he could not sweep aside the image of that child at the window, nor keep back his thoughts from entering the dwelling where her presence might be the only sunbeam that gave light in its gloomy chambers. when mr. edgar arrived at his store, his feelings toward mr. james were very different from what they were on the day previous. all anger, all resentment, were gone, and kindness had taken their place. what if mr. james did owe him a thousand dollars? what if he should lose the whole amount of this indebtedness? was the condition of the former so much better than his own, that he would care to change places with him? the very idea caused a shudder to run along his nerves. "poor man!" he said to himself, pityingly. "what a terrible thing to be thus involved in debt, thus crippled, thus driven to the wall. it would kill me! men are very cruel to one another, and i am cruel with the rest. what are a thousand dollars to me, or a thousand dollars to my well-to-do neighbor, compared with the ruin of a helpless fellow-man? james asked time. in two years he was sure he could recover himself, and make all good. but, with a heartlessness that causes my cheek to burn as i think of it, i answered, 'the first loss is always the best loss. i will get what i can, and let the balance go.' the look he then gave me has troubled my conscience ever since. no wonder it is not a happy new year." scarcely had mr. edgar passed the dwelling of his unfortunate debtor, when the latter, who had been walking the floor of his parlor in a troubled state of mind, came to the window and stood by his child, who was as dear to him as a child could be to the heart of a father. "happy new year, papa!" it was the third time since morning dawned that he had received this greeting from the same sweet lips. mr. james tried to give back the same glad greeting, but the words seemed to choke him, and failed in the utterance. as the two stood by the window, the wife and mother came up, and leaning against her husband, looked forth with a sad heart. oh, no! it was not a happy new year's morning to them. long before the dawn of another year, they must go forth from their pleasant home; and both their hearts shrunk back in fear from the dark beyond. "good morning, dear," said mr. james, soon afterward, as, with hat and coat and muffler on, he stood ready to go forth to meet the business trials of the day. his voice was depressed, and his countenance sad. the business assigned to that day was a painful one for mr. james. the only creditor who had commenced a suit was mr. edgar, he having declined entering into any arrangement with the other creditors, coldly saying that, in his opinion, "the first loss was always the best loss," and that extensions were, in most cases, equivalent to the abandonment of a claim. he was willing to take what the law would give him. pursuant to this view, a suit had been brought, and the debtor, to anticipate the result, confessed judgment to two of his largest creditors, who honorably bound themselves to see that a _pro rata_ division was made of all his effects. the business of this new year's day was to draw up as complete a statement as possible of his affairs, and mr. james went about the work with a heavy heart. he had been engaged in this way for over an hour, when one of his clerks came to the desk where he was writing, and handed him a letter, which a lad had just brought in. he broke the seal with a nervous foreboding of trouble; for, of late, these letters by the hands of private messengers had been frequent, and rarely of an agreeable character. from the envelope, as he commenced withdrawing the letter, there dropped upon the desk a narrow piece of paper, folded like a bill. he took it up with almost reluctant fingers, and slowly pressed back the ends so as to read its face and comprehend its import. twice his eyes went over the brief lines, before he was clear as to their meaning. they were as follows:-- "received, january , --, of abraham james, one thousand dollars, in full of all demands. "hiram edgar." hurriedly, now, did mr. james unfold the letter that accompanied this receipt. its language moved him deeply. "_abraham james, esq._, "dear sir: i was not in a right state of mind when i gave directions to have a suit brought against you. i have seen clearer since, and wish to act from a better principle. my own affairs are prosperous. during the year which has just closed, my profits have been better than in any year since i started business. your affairs, on the contrary, are unprosperous. heavy losses, instead of fair profits, are the result of a year's tireless efforts, and you find yourself near the bottom of the wheel, while i am sweeping upward. as i think of this, and of my unfeeling conduct toward you in your misfortunes, i am mortified as well as pained. there is an element in my character which ought not to be there. i am self-convicted of cruelty. accept, my dear sir, in the enclosed receipt, the best reparation in my power to make. in giving up this claim, i do not abandon an item that goes to complete the sum of my happiness. not a single comfort will be abridged. it will not shrink the dimensions of my house, nor withdraw from me or my family any portion of food or raiment. accept, then, the new year's gift i offer, and believe that i have a purer delight in giving than you in receiving. my best wishes are with you for the future, and if, in anything, i can aid you in your arrangements with creditors, do not fail to command my service. "most truly yours, "hiram edgar." for the space of nearly five minutes mr. james sat very still, the letter of mr. edgar before him. then he folded it up, with the receipt inside, and placed it in his pocket. then he put away the inventories he had been examining, and tore up several pieces of paper, on which were sundry calculations. and then he put on his warm overcoat and buttoned it to the chin. "edward," said mr. james, as he walked down the store, "i shall not return this afternoon. it is new year's day, and you can close up at two o'clock." it cost mr. edgar a struggle to write the receipt in full. a thousand dollars was a large sum of money to give away by a single stroke of the pen. love of gain and selfishness pleaded strongly for the last farthing; but the better reason and better feelings of the man prevailed, and the good deed was done. how light his heart felt, how suddenly the clouds were lifted from his sky, and the strange pressure from his feelings! it was to him a new experience. on the evening that closed the day, the first evening of the new year, mr. edgar sat with his wife and children in his elegant home, happier by far than he was in the morning, and almost wondering at the change in his state of mind. little ellen was in his arms, and as he looked upon her cherub face, he thought of a face as beautiful, seen by him in the morning, at the window of his unfortunate debtor. the face of an angel it had proved to him; for it prompted the good deed from which had sprung a double blessing. while he sat thus, he heard the door-bell ring. in a few minutes the waiter handed in a letter. he broke the seal, and read:-- "my dear sir: this morning my dear little aggy, the light of our home, greeted me with a joyous 'happy new year.' i took her in my arms and kissed her, keeping my face close to hers, that she might not see the sadness of mine. ah, sir! the day broke in gloom. the words of my child found no echo in my heart. i could have wept over her, if the strength of manhood had not risen above the weakness of nature. but all is changed now. a few minutes ago the 'happy new year' was flowing to me from the sweet lips of my child, and the words went thrilling in gladness to my heart. may the day close as happily for you and yours, as it is closing for me and mine. god bless you! "abraham james." mr. edgar read this letter twice, and then handed it, without a word, to his wife. the story, to which she listened eagerly, was briefly told. when mr. edgar had finished, his wife arose, and, with tears of love and sympathy in her eyes, crossed over to where he was sitting, and throwing her arms around his neck, said, "my good, my generous husband! i feel very proud of you this night. that was a noble deed; and i thank you for it in the name of our common humanity." never had words from the lips of his wife sounded so pleasant to the ears of mr. edgar. never had he known so happy a new year's day as the one which had just closed. and though it saw him poorer than he believed himself in the morning, by nearly a thousand dollars, he was richer in feeling--richer in the heart's unwasting possessions--than he had ever been in his life. [illustration: god be merciful to me a sinner.] the scripture quilt "in one of the boxes sent to us by the sanitary commission," writes a christian worker in a southern army hospital, "was a patch-work quilt of unusual softness and lightness. when we opened it, we found a note pinned to it. it read as follows:-- "'i have made this scripture quilt for one of the hospital beds, for i thought that while it would be a comfort to the poor body, it might speak a word of good to the precious soul; the words are so beautiful and blessed, and full of balm and healing! may it be blessed to the dear boys in the army, among whom i have a son.' "it was made of square blocks of calico and white cotton intermingled, and on every white block was written a verse from the bible or a couplet from one of our best hymns. on the central block, in letters so large as to catch the careless eye, was that faithful saying, in which is our hope and strength--'christ jesus came into the world to save sinners.' and below it the prayer of all prayers, 'god be merciful to me a sinner.' the head border, which would be nearest to the sick man's eye, and oftenest read, had the sweetest texts of promise, and love, and comfort. among them i read, 'god so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish.' 'come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and i will give you rest.' 'ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters!' 'i sought the lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.' 'oh,' we said, 'oh that all our beds had such quilts! god will surely speak through these texts to the sick and wounded men! they will read them when they will read nothing else. who knows how much good they will do?' "it was not long before a man sick with pneumonia was brought in, and we put our new quilt on his bed. he noticed nothing at first, he was too sick; but when he grew better, i saw him intent on the texts. 'handy to have 'em here!' he said, pointing to them as i stood near him. 'you know how to value them, then,' i said. 'i do,' he answered, with heartiness. after that i saw many studying the quilt--almost all who lay beneath it. one poor fellow, who had tossed in pain and feverishness for several days, caught sight of the words, 'and i will give you rest.' he beckoned to me, and said, 'rest! where can i get it? rest for body and mind, both! i am half mad--sick, as you see, but sicker--as no one can see. tell me how to get rest!' 'did you never hear of the way?--never hear of jesus?' 'tell me again.' i told him the story of the cross. 'died for my sins?' he asked. 'yes, yours. he saw you in your sins and pitied you, loved you, died to save you from sin and give you rest; to make you happy.' 'i have never been happy--never. i have been too wicked. and he _really_ died for me? i never felt it before. it never seemed to me a real thing.' 'i hope you will come to feel it the most real thing. have you seen the lines-- "'none but jesus, none but jesus, can do helpless sinners good'? "'it's true. i know it is none but jesus! i've tried everything else.' "'i'll go to jesus, though my sins have like a mountain risen,' i repeated. 'i can't go. i feel that i can't do anything. i am here a very wretched man; and that is all.' 'just leave yourself to god, then,-- "'here, lord, i give myself away, 'tis all that i can do.' that's all you have to do.' 'is that verse here?' i showed it to him on the quilt. 'i'll keep it before me. oh for rest! a little rest!' he groaned again. not long after he found it,--found peace in believing, and left his hospital bed, happier than he had ever been before. "an irishman lay under the scripture quilt. one day when nearly well, he was looking at it. 'is that radin?' he asked, putting his finger on the text. 'yes.' 'sure, and what does it say?' i read, 'and god shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.' 'ye might rade that,' he said, pointing to another text. 'i love them that love me, and they that seek me early shall find me.' 'it is the lord who says this,' i added after the text. 'sure, it's good to a lonesome pareson to hear what you rade.' 'so it is. there is no book like the bible in dark and trying hours.' "at last came the boy who had the best right to the comfort of our scripture quilt,--the son, of whom the good woman who made it spoke in the note attached. it was a strange circumstance that he should have come to lie beneath it, but so it was. he had lain there nearly senseless for more than a week, when i saw him kiss the patch-work. i thought he might be wandering, or if not, had found a text of hope or consolation that seemed to suit his need, and marked with my eye the place he had kissed, to see what it was. it was no text, but a calico block, the pattern a little crimson leaf on a dark ground. he kept looking at it, with tears in his eyes, and i was almost sure his mind was wandering. nay, he was never more in his right mind, and his thoughts were at home with his mother. a bit of the gown he had so often seen her wear had carried him back to her. he kissed it again. i approached him. he looked up, and smiled through his tears. "'do you know where this quilt came from?' he asked. 'some good woman sent it to us through the sanitary commission.' 'you don't know her name, nor where it came from?' 'no, but i saved a note that was pinned to the quilt.' 'would you be willing to let me see it some time when it is convenient?' 'oh, yes. i'll get it now.' i got it for him; his hand trembled, and his lips grew white as he opened it and saw the writing. 'please read it to me quite slowly,' he said, returning it. i read it. 'it is from my mother; shall you keep it?' 'yes,' i answered, 'i value it very much, and also the quilt.' he put his hands over his eyes. i thought he wished to be alone, and left him. as i stood by his bed the next day, i was wondering if he had not seen his mother's texts, as well as the bit of her gown. he had, and pointed one out to me. it was, 'father, i have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.' 'i am no more worthy,' he whispered. i put my finger on the next white block, and read aloud, 'when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him.' as i looked up, i saw there were tears upon his cheeks, and his lips were tremulous. he covered his eyes, and i left him. a few days after, when he had grown much stronger, he held up to me the text i had shown him. 'i was a great way off,' he said, 'but he has met me and had compassion on me.' 'you feel the saviour's love?' 'it fills me with peace. what love! what a saviour!' 'shall i not write to your mother and tell her that her son, who was dead, is alive again; was lost, and is found?' 'will it not be too much trouble?' 'oh, no, a pleasure instead.' i wrote the blessed tidings, making the mother's heart rejoice. and now our scripture quilt was even dearer and more sacred than before." however dark the skies may appear, and however souls may blunder, i tell you it all will work out clear, for good lies over and under. --_ella wheeler wilcox._ speak to strangers "who was that quiet-appearing girl that came into church quite late, last sabbath?" i asked a friend of mine who was an active member in the church which i had recently joined. "did she wear a striped shawl and a dark dress?" inquired my friend. "if so, it was annie linton, a girl who is a seamstress in brown's shop." "i did not notice her clothes in particular," i answered, "but her face attracted me; i should know it among a thousand faces. how could you pass by a stranger so indifferently, mrs. greyson? i expected that you would ask her to remain to sabbath-school, and go into your bible-class, but you did not once look at her." "i did not once think of it, and if i had, probably she would not have accepted the invitation, as she is a stranger in town, and undoubtedly will not remain here long," my friend replied quickly, in the way of defense. i said nothing more, for mrs. g. was really an excellent christian woman, with this one fault,--carelessness,--which sometimes caused her to make grave mistakes. but i could not help thinking about the stranger girl. her large dark eyes and finely formed face revealed more than ordinary intelligence, and in some way i gained the impression that she was deeply impressed with religious conviction, if not a christian already. it seemed to me that she left the church very reluctantly, and was half waiting an invitation to the bible-class. the next sabbath she came again and occupied the same seat,--just in front of my own. she bowed her head very reverently during prayer, and once during the sermon i saw her lip quiver with emotion, and a tear came into her eye. the services closed, and the stranger lingered as before. my friend, good mrs. g., again forgot to speak to the girl. she passed out of the church slowly, and did not come again. i thought she must have left town, as i had not seen her for several days; but one sabbath, as i attended another church, i saw her again. she seemed a little more at ease, i thought, and there was a quiet smile on her face. after the services were concluded, i saw many a pleasant smile given to the stranger girl, and i understood the secret of the changed look upon her face. i made some inquiries, and learned that she had joined this church, and was earnest and active in all its work. i also learned that she had made a profession of religion just before coming to our village, and had an unusually clear experience. how much the indifference of our own people had to do with her finding a home in another church, i know not. several years have passed since this occurred, but i have never forgotten it. many a stranger's hand i have clasped as i thought of annie linton's sweet face. i was young in christian experience then, and that lesson was a profitable one to me. speak to the stranger, christian friend, with the assurance that no evil will grow out of it. it is better sometimes to step over the rules of etiquette than to chill some warm stream of god's new-given love by coldness and indifference. loving words. loving words are rays of sunshine, falling on the path of life, driving out the gloom and shadow born of weariness and strife. often we forget our troubles when a friendly voice is heard, they are banished by the magic of a kind and helpful word. keep not back a word of kindness when the chance to speak it comes; though it seems to you a trifle, many a heart that grief benumbs will grow strong and brave to bear it, and the world will brighter grow, just because the word was spoken; try it--you will find it so. the major's cigar after a separation of ten years i met my old friend, major----, at a railway station. if he had not spoken first i should not have recognized my virginia comrade of ' . it was not merely the disguise of a silken hat and shaven cheek, but--as i told him after we had chatted a little about each other's ups and downs since the war--i was sure this was the first time i ever saw him away from the table without a cigar in his mouth. "haven't smoked for five years," was his reply. "i'm down on tobacco as thoroughly as you ever were." "good! tell me all about it." we locked arms, and walked leisurely up and down the platform. dropping the dialogue, this was, in substance, his story:-- "it wasn't a sudden conversion. i never was quite so easy in my mind over it as i pretended to be. i intended to taper off when i got home from the army. and i did, smoked less in three weeks than i used to in one. but one summer i went off on some business for our company, which kept me up in the mountains, among the charcoal-burners, three days longer than i expected. i got out of cigars, and couldn't obtain any for love or money. in forty-eight hours i was more uncomfortable and unstrung than i ever was before in all my life. i actually borrowed an old irishman's filthy clay pipe, and tried to smoke it. i thought of that miserable summer we spent crawling about the trenches in virginia, and i wished i was there again, with a cigar in my mouth. then i began to realize what a shameful bondage i was in to a mere self-indulgence. i, a man who secretly prided himself on his self-control, nerve, and manliness,--who never flinched at hard fare or rough weather,--a downright slave to a bad habit; unnerved and actually unfit for business for lack of a cigar. it made me angry at myself; i despised myself for my pusillanimity. "going into the matter a little further, i found that the money i had spent for cigars in a dozen years would have paid for my house and furnished it. i had smoked away more money than i had laid out for our library, our periodicals, and our intellectual culture generally. cigars had cost me nearly twice as much as i had given to church work, missions, and charity. my conscience rose up at the record. i knew i could not plead any equivalent for the outlay; it had not fed me; it had not strengthened me; it had simply drugged me. every cigar had made the next cigar a little more necessary to my comfort. to use the mildest word, it had been a _useless_ expenditure. "my detention in the mountains was calculated to open my eyes to my domestic shortcomings, and i saw, as i never saw before, how selfishly unsocial tobacco had made me at home. i smoked before i was married, and my wife never entered any protest against my cigars afterward. but our first baby was a nervous child, and the doctor told me it would not do for it to breathe tobacco smoke. so i got in the way of shutting myself up in the library of evenings, and after meals, to enjoy my cigars. as i look at it now, nothing is more absurd than to call smoking a social habit. it's a poor pretense of sociability, where a man is simply intent on his own enjoyment. my wife owns now, that my tobacco-tainted breath and tobacco-saturated clothing were always more or less a trial to her. the satisfaction it has given her to be rid of a tobacco atmosphere, and the thought of my contemptibly selfish indifference to her comfort all those years, have humbled me, i tell you. and i wouldn't exchange my own daily satisfaction now-a-days in being a _cleaner_ man--inside and outside--for the delight that anybody gets out of his cigars. "i didn't need to go outside of my own doors to find reasons enough for giving up the habit; but i think i found still stronger ones, after all, when i went away from home. the more i thought about the harm tobacco does in the community at large, the more sure i felt that it was time for me to stop giving it the moral support of my example. i know i smoked too much, and that my nervous system is the worse for it; and i think the people who are likely to be hurt the most by it are just the ones who are most likely to smoke excessively. and then, i've noticed that the medical men who stand up for tobacco, are always men who use it, and are liable to the suspicion of straining a point in justification of their own self-indulgence. "on one point, though, i believe the authorities agree. no one denies that it is a damaging indulgence for boys. it means a good deal when smoking is forbidden to the pupils in the polytechnic schools in paris, and the military schools in germany, purely on hygienic grounds. the governments of these smoking nations are not likely to be notional on that matter. but the use of tobacco by our american boys and men is excessive and alarming. we ought to save our rising generation for better work than they can do if tobacco saps the strength of their growing years, and makes the descent easier, as no doubt it often does, to worse vices. i don't know how to forgive myself for the temptation i set before my sabbath-school class of bright boys, year after year, by my smoking habits. "it isn't in the family, either, that the selfishness of the habit is most apparent. i don't believe, other things being equal, there is any other class of men who show such a disregard in public for other people's comfort as tobacco users do. a man would be considered a rowdy or a boor who should wilfully spatter mud on the clothing of a lady as she passed him on the sidewalk. but a lady to whom tobacco fumes are more offensive than mud, can hardly walk the streets in these days, but that men who call themselves gentlemen--and who _are_ gentlemen in most other respects--blow their cigar smoke into her face at almost every step. smokers drive non-smokers out of the gentlemen's cabins on the ferry-boats, and the gentlemen's waiting-rooms in railway stations, monopolizing these rooms as coolly as if only _they_ had any rights in them. i can't explain such phenomena except on the theory that tobacco befogs the moral sense, and makes men specially selfish." the major's train came in just then, and as he took my hand to say good-by, its smoking-car drew his parting shot: "see there! did you ever reflect how the tobacco habit levies its taxes on everybody? the railway company furnishes an extra seat to every smoker, which, in the nature of the case, must be paid for by an extra charge on the tickets of all the passengers. what a stir it would raise, if the legislature should attempt to furnish luxuries to any special class, at public cost, in this way. how we'd vote them down! i vote against _this_ thing by throwing away my cigar!" what to mind. _mind your tongue!_ don't let it speak an angry, an unkind, a cruel, or a wicked word; don't let it, boys--now, mind! _mind eyes and ears!_ don't ever look at wicked books or boys. from wicked pictures turn away-- all sinful acts despise. _and mind your lips!_ tobacco stains; strong drink, too, keep away; and let no bad words pass your lips-- mind everything you say. _mind hands and feet!_ don't let them do a single wicked thing; don't steal or strike, don't kick or fight, don't walk in paths of sin. the little sisters "you were not here yesterday," said the gentle teacher of the little village school, as she placed her hand kindly on the curly head of one of her pupils. it was recess time, but the little girl addressed had not gone to frolic away the ten minutes, not even left her seat, but sat absorbed in what seemed a fruitless attempt to make herself mistress of an example in long division. her face and neck crimsoned at the remark of her teacher, but looking up, she seemed somewhat reassured by the kind glance that met her, and answered, "no, ma'am, i was not, but sister nellie was." "i remember there was a little girl who called herself nellie gray, came in yesterday, but i did not know she was your sister. but why did you not come? you seem to like to study very much." "it was not because i didn't want to," was the earnest answer, and then she paused and the deep flush again tinged her fair brow; "but," she continued after a moment of painful embarrassment, "mother cannot spare both of us conveniently, and so we are going to take turns. i'm going to school one day, and sister the next, and to-night i'm to teach nellie all i have learned to-day, and to-morrow night she will teach me all that she learns while here. it's the only way we can think of getting along, and we want to study very much, so as to sometime keep school ourselves, and take care of mother, because she has to work very hard to take care of us." with genuine delicacy miss m---- forbore to question the child further, but sat down beside her, and in a moment explained the rule over which she was puzzling her young brain, so that the hard example was easily finished. "you had better go out and take the air a few moments, you have studied very hard to-day," said the teacher, as the little girl put aside the slate. "i had rather not--i might tear my dress--i will stand by the window and watch the rest." there was such a peculiar tone in the voice of her pupil as she said, "i might tear my dress," that the teacher was led instinctively to notice it. it was nothing but a nine-penny print of a deep hue, but it was neatly made and had never been washed. and while looking at it, she remembered that during the whole previous fortnight mary gray had attended school regularly, she had never seen her wear but that one dress. "she is a thoughtful little girl," said she to herself, "and does not want to make her mother any trouble. i wish i had more such scholars." the next morning mary was absent, but her sister occupied her seat. there was something so interesting in the two little sisters, the one eleven, and the other eighteen months younger, agreeing to attend school by turns, that miss m---- could not forbear observing them very closely. they were pretty faced children, of delicate forms, the elder with dark eyes and chestnut curls, the other with orbs like the sky of june, her white neck veiled by a wealth of golden ringlets. she observed in both, the same close attention to their studies, and as mary tarried within during the play time, so did nellie; and upon speaking to her as she had to her sister, she received the same answer, "i might tear my dress." the reply caused miss m---- to notice the garb of her sister. she saw at once that it was of the same piece as mary's, and upon scrutinizing it very closely, she became certain that it was the same dress. it did not fit quite so nicely on nellie, and was too long for her, and she was evidently ill at ease when she noticed her teacher looking at the bright pink flowers that were so thickly set on the white ground. the discovery was one that could not but interest a heart so benevolent as that which pulsated in the bosom of that village school-teacher. she ascertained the residence of their mother, and though sorely shortened herself by a narrow purse, that same night, having found at the only store in the place a few yards of the same material, purchased a dress for little nellie, and made arrangements with the merchant to send it to her in such a way that the donor could not be detected. very bright and happy looked mary gray on friday morning, as she entered the school at an early hour. she waited only to place her books in neat order in her desk, ere she approached the teacher, and whispering in a voice that laughed in spite of her efforts to make it low and deferential--"after this week sister nellie is coming to school every day, and oh, i am so glad!" "that is very good news," replied the teacher kindly. "nellie is fond of her books, i see, and i am happy to know that she can have an opportunity to study them every day." then she continued, a little good-natured mischief encircling her eyes and dimpling her sweet lips--"but can your mother spare you both conveniently?" "oh, yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, she can now. something happened that she didn't expect, and she is as glad to have us come as we are to do so." she hesitated a moment, but her young heart was filled to the brim with joy, and when a child is happy it is as natural to tell the cause as it is for a bird to warble when the sun shines. so out of the fullness of her heart she spoke and told her teacher this little story. she and her sister were the only children of a very poor widow, whose health was so delicate that it was almost impossible to support herself and daughters. she was obliged to keep them out of school all winter, as they had no suitable clothes to wear, but she told them that if they could earn enough by doing odd chores for the neighbors to buy each of them a new dress, they might go in the spring. very earnestly had the little girls improved their stray chances, and very carefully hoarded the copper coins which usually repaid them. they had nearly saved enough to buy a dress, when nellie was taken sick, and as the mother had no money beforehand, her own treasure had to be expended. "oh, i did feel so bad when school opened and nellie could not go, because she had no dress," said mary. "i told mother i wouldn't go either, but she said i had better, for i could teach sister some, and it would be better than no schooling. i stood it for a fortnight, but nellie's little face seemed all the time looking at me on the way to school, and i couldn't be happy a bit, so i finally thought of a way by which we could both go, and i told mother i would come one day, and the next i would lend nellie my dress and she might come, and that's the way we have done this week. but last night, don't you think, somebody sent sister a dress just like mine, and now she can come too. oh, if i only knew who it was, i would get down on my knees and thank them, and so would nellie. but we don't know, and so we've done all we could for them--we've prayed for them--and oh, miss m----, we are all so glad now. aint you too?" "indeed i am," was the emphatic answer. and when on the following monday, little nellie, in the new pink dress, entered the schoolroom, her face radiant as a rose in sunshine, and approaching the teacher's table, exclaimed, in tones as musical as those of a freed fountain, "i am coming to school every day, and oh, i am so glad!" the teacher felt as she had never done before, that it is more blessed to give than to receive. no millionaire, when he saw his name in public prints, lauded for his thousand-dollar charities, was ever so happy as the poor school-teacher who wore her gloves half a summer longer than she ought, and thereby saved enough to buy that little fatherless girl a calico dress. our record. we built us grand, gorgeous towers out toward the western sea, and said in a dream of the summer hours, thus fair should our record be. we would strike the bravest chords that ever rebuked the wrong; and through them should tremble all loving words that would make the weary strong. there entered not into our thought the dangers the way led through, we saw but the gifts of the good we sought, and the good we would strive to do. here trace we a hurried line, there blush or a blotted leaf; and tears, vain tears, on the eyelids shine, that the record is so brief. the widow's christmas mrs. mulford was a woman who doted on ruins. nothing in the present was as beautiful as she had enjoyed in the past; and it seemed utterly impossible for her to imagine that there was anything in the future that could compensate her for the trials she had endured. in her girlhood mrs. mulford had been surrounded with the luxuries of life; and after her marriage her surroundings were but a trifle less magnificent. in such an air of luxury and ease, her children were being reared when suddenly a great change came. mr. mulford was a rash speculator, and on that memorable "black friday," the idol he had worshiped, the god of gold, proved itself to be nothing but clay, and was as dust in his hands. he could not rally from the shock; pride, ambition, courage, were all annihilated; and mrs. mulford, to whom beggary seemed worse than death, could only mingle her tears with his in speechless agony. arthur, the eldest child, a boy of fourteen, endeavored to comfort his grief-stricken parents. "i will work for you, father. i can easily get a place in a store." "my boy! my boy!" said the poor man, clasping his son affectionately in his arms; "stay by your mother, and the girls, they will need you, dear boy!" and he imprinted a kiss on the glowing cheek, that had in it a father's blessing and farewell. the next morning mrs. mulford was a widow, and her children fatherless. a trifle the creditors allowed her was all she had to depend upon, the money she had inherited from her father having been swept away by the financial tornado. she had taken a little place in the country, and with arthur's help, and bridget's,--who had followed the fortunes of her mistress--had succeeded in making things look quite cozy and attractive. "sure, ma'am," said bridget, in her homely attempts to comfort her mistress, who dragged herself about like a sable ghost, "if ye'd only smile once in a while ye'd be surprised at the comfort ye'd get!" "ah, bridget," mrs. mulford replied, with a long-drawn sigh, "my smiling days are over. i try to be patient, but i cannot be cheerful." "ah, but, it's the cheerful patience that brings the sunshine; and ye really shouldn't grieve the children so." "do they mind it, bridget?" "sure, an' they do! master arthur, bless the boy! says it's just like a tomb where ye are; and miss minnie and maud have their little hearts nearly torn out of them; and they are such wee, little birdies!" but mrs. mulford could not be easily beguiled from her sorrow, especially as she was obliged to have recourse to her needle to eke out the limited allowance, and every stitch she took was but an additional reminder of the depth to which she was reduced. to such a disposition the needle is but a weapon of despair, bringing neither comfort nor hope, nor in any way lightening the burdens of life. the recurrence of an anniversary was, to mrs. mulford's mind like the unveiling of a monument to the departed, and was usually spent in solitude and tears. she had managed to exist through the thanksgiving season, and bridget had done her best to make the occasion worthy to be remembered--by the children at least; and if it hadn't been for that kitchen goddess, i don't see how the house could have held together. she had always some comical story to tell the children, something to excite their wonder or admiration, and every few days would surprise them with some fresh molasses candy or cunning little cakes baked in curious patty pans. minnie and maud rather enjoyed their poverty, as it allowed them more freedom and exemption from little rules that society enjoined. it was such fun to roll in the snow, and draw each other on the sled, without any caution in regard to ruffles and frills that used to be such a torment to them, and such a restraint on their buoyant natures. [illustration: announcement to shepherds] christmas was drawing near, and its approach filled mrs. mulford with uncontrollable despondency. it had been a gay season in her young days, and her own children knew it as the season of especial rejoicings and unlimited toys and candies. now it was all so changed! even a moderate expenditure was not to be thought of, when it was so difficult to procure even the necessaries of life, and she really wished the day was over, for she dreaded its arrival. the furniture never looked so dingy and faded, nor the curtains so coarse, nor her surroundings so pitiful, as when she looked around and thought that christmas was coming. neither did the past ever seem so beautiful and glowing as when she cast a retrospective glance in that direction at this memorable season. but in the kitchen all was animation and excitement; as different an atmosphere as if there were ever so many degrees of latitude between them; mrs. mulford occupying the frigid, and bridget the torrid zone. every afternoon and early in the morning, minnie and maud were down in a corner of the kitchen very busy over some mystery, in which bridget was as much interested as they were themselves. arthur bustled about from one room to another, always the active, cheery, hopeful boy, who kept everybody informed of what was going on in the outside world; and he, too, evidently had some weighty secret pressing against the buttons of his jacket. christmas eve came, and the children began to think it never would be dark enough for them to get ready for santa claus. "what are you going to do, minnie?" inquired mrs. mulford, as minnie brought in the stockings to hang by the fire. "get ready for santa claus, mamma," was the reply. "you know that to-morrow is christmas!" "but santa claus don't come to poor people, my child," and the tears filled her eyes at the recollection of the generous gifts of former years. "oh, yes he does, mamma," said minnie, who was eleven years old, and two years the senior of her sister; "yes he does! he knows where we live." and she continued pinning the stockings upon the line she had stretched across the mantel. "i wish i could have afforded a tree!" sighed the mother, watching her daughter's movements with considerable curiosity. "we don't want a tree, do we, maud? a stocking is ever so much nicer. it looks so funny all stuffed out, and then you don't know what's in it, and you have to shake it out, and hunt way in the toe! then you can put such tiny things in, to make everybody laugh." then she pinned on the names which arthur had printed very nicely on slips of paper, and stood off a little distance to admire her handiwork. bridget was called in from the kitchen to see if it was all right, and arthur was induced to leave his work just for a minute to note the effect of the display. "here now!" he exclaimed, "i told you to hang up the clothes bag for me. you don't suppose that little thing will hold all my treasures, do you? is the chimney clear?" and he pretended to search anxiously for anything that might prevent the descent of good old santa claus, whose coming had never before been anticipated with such unqualified delight. mrs. mulford was in the midst of a troubled dream, when shouts of "merry christmas! merry christmas!" rang through the house, and awakened her to the reality of the day she so long had dreaded. she knew how dreadfully disappointed the children would be, it is so hard for them to understand the exigencies of life, and wished she might keep her room all day and have bridget bring up her meals. "if ye please, ma'am," said the worthy maid-of-all-work, not stopping to knock at the door, "if ye please, ma'am, ye'd better come down-stairs; the children are nigh about crazy waiting for ye;" and the sunshine of her face illuminated the long room after she had retreated down the stairway. "they can't feel very bad," said mrs. mulford, as she slowly turned from her room. "it seems to me i never heard them laugh so heartily. oh, to be a child again!" and she sighed heavily. as she entered the sitting-room, what a sight met her eyes! there were wreaths of green over her portrait and papa's; a narrow border running round the mantel; and festoons falling in every direction. "come, mother," said arthur, "you first; bridget can hardly wait, and our breakfast won't be worth eating." "oh, no," said the mother, "maud should have the first chance; and the impatient child eagerly availed herself of the privilege." it was astonishing what an amount of goodies rolled out of that stocking, and after they were laid aside there were one or two parcels to be opened. there was a nice pair of warm gloves, just what she wanted to use in drawing the sled, or making snow-balls; a new doll, and a book full of pictures. minnie's stocking was quite as bountifully stocked, and every new surprise seemed to enkindle their mirth and enthusiasm. arthur had filled his own stockings with all sorts of odds and ends, on purpose to increase the fun and hilarity, and pretended to be surprised that santa claus patronized second-hand shops. bridget sat down with the children to unload her collection of treasures, and even mrs. mulford was forced to laugh heartily at her comical remarks, especially when she drew out a potato, which was labeled, "the last of the murphys!" "may they always be first in the field!" said bridget. when mrs. mulford was finally induced to examine the contents of her own stocking, the children, with bridget, who was only an older child, gathered around, and watched anxiously the proceedings. there were a pair of nice brackets hanging outside, which arthur had cut with a penknife; and as she took up each article that had been wrought by loving little fingers, the worsted pulse-warmers, the pretty mats and tidies, she felt that it was indeed possible for love to build upon the old ruins a beautiful palace for the heart to dwell in. "forgive me, my dear children!" she exclaimed, embracing them each in turn. "bridget, my good girl, we will begin the world anew. i have been a weak woman." "sorry a bit of it!" said bridget, wiping away her tears with the corner of her apron. "it's a heavy cross ye had, but we're all going to help carry it." "and, mother," broke in arthur, "i've got a situation in a grocery store." "arthur!" "yes. it isn't much, but i'll learn the business; and then, you know, i can take care of you." what a christmas breakfast they had! it wasn't so much what was on the table, although bridget had made delicious waffles, and everything was super-excellent, but it was the guest that sat at the board with them that made it a feast to be remembered. while they were at the table, talking over plans in which the mother manifested undoubted interest, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door that startled all the inmates of the house. "a new calamity!" sighed mrs. mulford, falling back into the old attitude. "it must be santa claus himself!" exclaimed bridget, putting her head through the kitchen door. arthur admitted the gentleman, so swathed in an immense scarf about the neck and chin as to leave one in doubt as to whether he were friend or foe. "well, well!" said the stranger, divesting himself of his wraps, and stamping the snow from his boots in the little hall; "such a tramp as i have had! where's carrie?" "carrie?" inquired arthur, fearing he had admitted a lunatic. "yes, carrie. my niece, carrie wharton. are you her boy?" "i don't know, sir." "no more do i. she was carrie wharton, married ned mulford, and a long tramp i've had to find her." "have you any bad news?" inquired arthur, laying a detaining hand on the stranger's arm; "because, if you have, i'd rather you wouldn't mention it to-day. my name is arthur mulford, and we've had such a happy christmas." "no fear, my boy, bless your tender heart! why, i've come from santa claus myself, and am chock full of sunshine that turns into gold." saying which, he entered the room where mrs. mulford and her children were sitting, and bridget hurrying to clear off the breakfast things. "carrie!" said the stranger in eager tones, advancing toward mrs. mulford, who seemed to have heard a voice from the far-away past. she was in her own home again, a careless child; father and mother were living, death had never crossed her threshold, and all was joy and happiness. a bewildered moment, and then a flash of recognition. "uncle nathan!" "yes, dear child! would i could have got to you sooner;" and he held the weary head close to his generous heart, and smoothed the worn brow. "i felt i was growing old, and had a hankering after a home to die in, and always the face of my little niece, carrie, seemed to give me the heartiest welcome." "then you didn't die," said arthur, looking on the scene as if it were a part of a fairy story. "of course i didn't. came near it, a dozen times, but always escaped. couldn't see why i was spared and better folks taken, but it's all clear now. why, i had as hard work finding out anything about ned mulford, or ned mulford's widow, as if i'd been trying to find captain kidd." "it's because of our poverty," sighed the widow. "yes, i suppose so. it's the way of the world! but who cares? we'll begin the world anew." mrs. mulford stared at hearing her own words repeated, and bridget, who kept an ear on the proceedings, stood for a moment in open-mouthed amazement, much as if she feared that there was to be another great convulsion of nature. "yes," continued uncle nathan, "yes, that's what brought me back. money don't make a home, i know that well enough, for i've seen it tried. arthur, what are your plans?" "i was going into mr. chase's grocery the first of january." "do you want to? any taste for hams, herrings, tape, and shoe-strings?" "no, sir," replied arthur, laughing at the combination, "but i'd like to help mother. i promised father to see after her." "you've done your duty. but my opinion is you'd rather go to college than into a grocery." "oh, sir!" and the flush on the boy's face was not to be misunderstood. "college it is, then. carrie, you are to be my housekeeper; these are my little girls;" clasping the children in a hearty embrace, "and see if we don't turn out a happier family than any barnum ever exhibited." the christmas dinner was a marvel of cookery, and uncle nathan enlivened the meal with accounts of his adventures. "and this was the christmas i had dreaded!" said mrs. mulford, as she retired to her room. the children had reluctantly gone to bed, fearing that this good "santa claus," as they persisted in calling uncle nathan, would disappear in the night, and leave them as suddenly as he came. arthur dreamed of his books and college, and woke up half a dozen times in the night to assure himself that the great man sleeping so soundly beside him was not simply the magician of the "arabian nights." mrs. mulford's pride was truly humbled by this manifestation of god's goodness, and long and earnestly she prayed that henceforth, whatever trials might come upon her, she might bear the burden with cheerful patience, trusting in god to lead her through the shadows into the sunshine of a more perfect day. and in after life no memory was more precious to her than that of a christmas morning when the children taught her a lesson of unselfishness and duty. come into our homes, oh ye christmas angels! brush away the cobwebs that regret and selfishness have strewn around, and put in their stead the wreaths and vines that are fragrant with the immortality of love! no home so poor that will not be the brighter for your coming! no heart that is not enriched by your presence, oh ever blessed christmas guests! "there are as many lovely things, as many pleasant tones, for those who dwell by cottage hearths as those who sit on thrones." with a will, joe it was a summer afternoon; the wheelbarrow stood before mrs. robin's door; the street was empty of all traffic, for the heat was intense. i sauntered languidly along on the shady side opposite the widow's house, and noticed her boy bringing out some linen in baskets to put on the wheelbarrow. i was surprised at the size of the baskets he was lugging along the passage and lifting on to the wheelbarrow, and paused to look at him. he pulled, and dragged, and then resting a moment began again, and in the silence of the street, i heard him saying something to himself. i half crossed the road. he was too busy to notice me, and then, in a pause of his toil, i heard him gasp out, "with a will, joe." he was encouraging himself to a further effort with these words. at last, bringing the large basket to the curbstone, he ran in and got a piece of smooth wood as a lever; resting one end of the basket on the wheelbarrow, he heaved up the other end, and saying a little louder than before, "with a will, joe," the basket was mounted on to the wheelbarrow. as he rested, and looked proudly at his successful effort, he saw me, and his round, red face, covered with perspiration, became scarlet for a moment, as i said, "that's a brave boy." the mother's voice sounded in the passage, "i'm coming, joe," and out she came as the child, pointing to the basket, said, "i've managed it, mother." it was a pretty sight, the looks of the widow and her willing boy. though no further word was spoken, the sense of satisfaction on each face was very plain, and i have no doubt in each heart there was a throb of pleasure that words have no language for. i went on my way, but the saying, "with a will, joe," went with me. how much there was in that simple phrase, "with a will!" how different is our work according as we do it with or against our will. this little fellow might have cried or murmured, or left his mother to do the work, and been dissatisfied with himself, and a source of discontent to his mother, but he had spurred himself on to toil and duty, with his words, powerful in their simplicity--"with a will, joe." often since have i recalled the scene and the saying. when some young lady complains to me, "i have no time to give to doing good. i've visits to make, and shopping to do, and embroidery to finish, how can i help the poor when i'm so pressed for time?" i am apt to say mentally, "how different it would be with her, if she had ever said to herself, 'with a will.'" yes, with a will we can do almost anything that ought to be done; and without a will we can do nothing as it should be done. to all of us, whatever our station, there come difficulties and trials. if we yield to them we are beaten down and conquered. but if we, ourselves, conquer the temptation to do wrong, calling the strength of god to aid us in our struggle with the enemy, we shall grow stronger and more valiant with every battle, and less liable to again fall into temptation. our wisdom and our duty are to rouse ourselves,--to speak to our own hearts as the child did in his simple words, "with a will, joe." when there is any wrong thing that we want to do, our will then is strong enough. the _evil one_ comes with his temptation, and helps us to our ruin, with his strength. the times when we flag are when we want to do right. "when i would do good, evil is present with me," was the testimony of the apostle of the gentiles, and it is the experience of all, unless they go to him who can make our wills obedient to his will. our prayer should be, "create in me a clean heart, o god, and renew a right spirit [will] within me." do with your might. whatsoe'er you find to do, do it, boys, with all your might! never be a _little_ true, or a _little_ in the right. trifles even lead to heaven, trifles make the life of man; so in all things, great or small things, be as thorough as you can. affecting scene in a saloon one afternoon in the month of june, , a lady in deep mourning, followed by a little child, entered one of the fashionable saloons in the city of n----. the writer happened to be passing at the time, and prompted by curiosity, followed her in to see what would ensue. stepping up to the bar, and addressing the proprietor, she said:-- "sir, can you assist me? i have no home, no friends, and am not able to work." he glanced at her and then at the child, with a mingled look of curiosity and pity. evidently he was much surprised to see a woman in such a place, begging, but, without asking any questions, gave her some change, and turning to those present, he said:-- "gentlemen, here is a lady in distress. can't some of you help her a little?" they cheerfully acceded to the request, and soon a purse of two dollars was made up and put into her hand. "madam," said the gentleman who gave her the money, "why do you come to a saloon? it isn't a proper place for a lady, and why are you driven to such a step?" "sir," said the lady, "i know it isn't a proper place for a lady to be in, and you ask me why i am driven to such a step. i will tell you, in one short word," pointing to a bottle behind the counter labelled "whisky,"--"that is what brought me here--whisky. i was once happy, and surrounded with all the luxuries wealth could produce, with a fond, indulgent husband. but in an evil hour he was tempted, and not possessing the will to resist the temptation, fell, and in one short year my dream of happiness was over, my home was forever desolate, and the kind husband, and the wealth that some called mine, lost--lost, never to return; and all by the accursed wine cup. you see before you only the wreck of my former self, homeless and friendless, with nothing left me in this world but this little child;" and weeping bitterly, she affectionately caressed the golden curls that shaded a face of exquisite loveliness. regaining her composure, and turning to the proprietor of the saloon, she continued:-- "sir, the reason why i occasionally enter a place like this is to implore those who deal in this deadly poison to desist, to stop a business that spreads desolation, ruin, poverty, and starvation. think one moment of your own loved ones, and then imagine them in the situation i am in. i appeal to your better nature, i appeal to your heart, for i know you possess a kind one, to retire from a business so ruinous to your patrons. "do you know the money you take across the bar is the same as taking the bread out of the mouths of the famishing? that it strips the clothing from their backs, deprives them of all the comforts of this life, and throws unhappiness, misery, crime, and desolation into their once happy homes? o! sir, i implore, beseech, and pray you to retire from a business you blush to own you are engaged in before your fellow men, and enter one that will not only be profitable to yourself, but to your fellow-creatures also. you will excuse me if i have spoken too plainly, but i could not help it when i thought of the misery, the unhappiness, and the suffering it has caused me." "madam, i am not offended," he answered, in a voice husky with emotion, "but i thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have said." "mamma," said the little girl--who, meantime, had been spoken to by some of the gentlemen present--taking hold of her mother's hand, "these gentlemen want me to sing 'little bessie' for them. shall i do so?" they all joined in the request, and placing her in the chair, she sung, in a sweet, childish voice, the following beautiful song:-- "out in the gloomy night, sadly i roam; i have no mother dear, no pleasant home; no one cares for me, no one would cry even if poor little bessie should die. weary and tired i've been wandering all day, asking for work, but i'm too small, they say; on the damp ground i must now lay my head; father's a drunkard, and mother is dead. "we were so happy till father drank rum, then all our sorrow and trouble begun; mother grew pale, and wept every day; baby and i were too hungry to play. +------------------------------------+-------------------------------+ |against liquor |against tobacco | | | | |recognizing in alcoholic beverages a|acknowledging smoking, chewing,| |deadly enemy to the delicate |or snuffing tobacco to be | |functions of the human system, a |always detrimental to the human| |menace to the home, and their use as|system, an enemy to perfect | |a drink an outrage against society, |health and happiness, and an | |the state and the nation, i hereby |offense against good form and | |promise to not only abstain from |respectable society, i hereby | |them myself, but to use my influence|express myself against the use | |against their manufacture, sale, and|of this vile poison. i shall | |consumption. |also endeavor to discourage its| | |use among my friends and | | name______________________________ |associates. | | | | | address___________________________ | name_________________________ | | | | | date______________________________ | address______________________ | | | | | | date_________________________ | +------------------------------------+-------------------------------+ |"if any man defile the temple of god, him shall god destroy; for | |the temple of god is holy, which temple ye are." i cor. : . | | | |"be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolators, nor | |adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, | |nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor | |extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of god." i cor. : , . | +------------------------------------+-------------------------------+ slowly they faded, till one summer night found their dead faces all silent and white; then with big tears slowly dropping, i said, 'father's a drunkard, and mother is dead.' "oh! if the temperance men could only find poor, wretched father, and talk very kind; if they would stop him from drinking, then i should be very happy again. is it too late, temperance men? please try, or poor little bessie must soon starve and die. all the day long i've been begging for bread; father's a drunkard, and mother is dead." the game of billiards was left unfinished, the cards thrown aside, and the unemptied glass remained on the counter; all had pressed near, some with pity-beaming eyes, entranced with the musical voice and beauty of the child, who seemed better fitted to be with angels above than in such a place. the scene i shall never forget to my dying day, and the sweet cadence of her musical voice still rings in my ears, and from her lips sunk deep into the hearts of those gathered around her. with her golden hair falling carelessly around her shoulders, and looking so trustingly and confidingly upon the gentlemen around her, the beautiful eyes illuminated with a light that seemed not of this earth, she formed a picture of purity and innocence worthy the genius of a poet or painter. at the close of the song many were weeping; men who had not shed a tear for years wept like children. one young man who had resisted with scorn the pleadings of a loving mother, and entreaties of friends to strive and lead a better life, to desist from a course that was wasting his fortune and ruining his health, now approached the child, and taking both hands in his, while tears streamed down his cheeks, exclaimed, in deep emotion:-- "god bless you, my little angel. you have saved me from ruin and disgrace, from poverty and a drunkard's grave. if there are angels on earth, you are one! god bless you! god bless you!" and putting a note into the hand of the mother, said:-- "please accept this trifle as a token of my regard and esteem, for your little girl has done me a kindness i can never repay; and remember, whenever you are in want, you will find me a true friend;" at the same time giving her his name and address. taking her child by the hand she turned to go, but, pausing at the door, said:-- "god bless you, gentlemen! accept the heartfelt thanks of a poor, friendless woman for the kindness and courtesy you have shown her." before any one could reply she was gone. a silence of several minutes ensued, which was broken by the proprietor, who exclaimed:-- "gentlemen, that lady was right, and i have sold my last glass of whisky; if any one of you want any more you will have to go elsewhere." "and i have drunk my last glass of whisky," said a young man who had long been given up as sunk too low ever to reform, and as utterly beyond the reach of those who had a deep interest in his welfare. nellie alton's mother "mamma, o mamma!" cried an eager young voice; and nellie alton, a plump, rosy schoolgirl of twelve summers, rushed into her mother's room, and, flinging her text-books on the sofa, seated herself on an ottoman at her mother's feet. mrs. alton looked up from her sewing with a quiet smile, and said, as she pushed back the tangled curls from nellie's uplifted forehead,-- "what is the matter with my daughter? has anything serious occurred at the institute?" "o mamma," said nellie, half reproachfully, "you can't have forgotten that it is just a week to-day since i received that invitation to minnie shelburne's party. you said at the time, that you didn't know whether i might accept, and i think i've been very patient not to tease you about it. almost all the girls are going. mrs. doane has bought the loveliest silk for carrie and jessie; and mrs. hilton has three women sewing on emma's dress. here i am not knowing whether i can go. cousin sue said she thought my 'mother a woman of great deliberation.'" "in years to come you will rejoice over the truth of that remark, my darling." "but, mamma, please decide now, won't you?" "i have decided, my dear. last night your father and i had a long talk about the matter, and we agreed--" "to let me go?" cried eager nellie. "no, dear. anxious for your truest good, we were sorry we should have to disappoint you. but we cannot grant you a harmful pleasure." nellie bit her lip, while her eyes filled with tears. "may i ask your reasons, mamma?" "yes, dear; and i feel that my sensible little daughter cannot but be satisfied with them. all the advantages you are now having tend to make you, at some future time, a useful woman in society. to obtain their full benefit, your mind must remain undiverted from your studies, and you must be kept free from everything that will detract from your health and strength. parties will excite you, deprive you of sleep, fill your mind with foolish fancies, retard you in your school work, and make you thin, pale, and irritable. we should sadly miss our bright, blooming nellie. do you wonder we refuse to let you attend the party?" "but just once cannot hurt me," pleaded nellie. "the one party, my child, will be followed by a score of them. if you go to miss shelburne's, the other girls will wonder why you cannot attend theirs, and ill feeling will arise. we will talk no more about it now. sometime you will thank me for my course. are you satisfied?" "i'll try to be, mamma," said nellie; but there were a few suspicious drops on her eyelashes. the night of the party arrived. nellie had had a very trying week at school, for the girls thought of nothing else besides their fine preparations. she bore it bravely, and after tea sat resolutely down to her lessons, which were unusually difficult. half-past eight found her closing her books with the air of a conqueror, while she exclaimed,-- "now, mamma, they're all done, every one. may i run over and see cousin sue off?" consent was given, and nellie entered her uncle's vestibule just as sue was descending the stairs, in a cloud of lace and pink silk. she felt a little choking in her throat, but said, quietly, "sue, you look lovely; but to-morrow's french exercise is terribly hard." "and miss propriety stay-at-home has prepared for it, i infer. aren't you sorry you can't go?" said sue, settling her flounces with a satisfied air. "mother knows best," said nellie, decidedly; then she went home. while her sixth hour of sleep, sweet and restful, was passing by, poor, tired, cross sue returned home, and wearily climbed the stairs to her room. next day nellie came home, saying, "i am at the head of all my classes. some of the girls were late, others had headaches, all of them were disagreeable, and none of them had half prepared their lessons. professor marshly was very angry, but he thanked me for my good example to others. you dearest mother! i'll trust you as long as i live." and grateful nellie sealed the compact with a kiss. years afterward, two ladies were seated in a pleasant room engaged in conversation. one of them reclined on a sofa, and her sallow features and restless, dissatisfied manner marked her an invalid. the face of the other was bright with health and vivacity. her sunny smile and cheery voice showed her a stranger to sickness and pain. "nellie, my dear," sighed the former, "you can have no idea of the dreadful condition of my nervous system. i spend the greater part of the day on the sofa. the children are a perfect worriment, everything about the house goes wrong, ralph looks so discontented. i cannot enjoy society at all. in fact, the doctor says i had too much dissipation when young, and ruined my constitution with the parties and late suppers. i would give my fortune for your good health and cheerful spirits." "cousin sue, i remember when you used to drive off to parties, and think scornfully of my quiet home evenings." "i remember, nellie. do hand me the hartshorn and another cushion, and please lower that shade a little. there, thank you. now will you inform me to what you owe your healthy, happy life?" at this moment the door opened, and a silver-haired, sweet-faced lady entered. nellie rose to meet her, and twining one arm about the lady's waist, "cousin sue," she said, "my perfect health, my calm, happy mind, the good i am enabled to do for god and humanity, the comfort i succeed in giving to my husband and children, the knowledge i have of my heavenly father, and the love i bear him, i owe to the judicious care, the wise counsel, and the tender love and prayers of my mother." look to your thoughts. many suppose that if they can guard themselves against improper words and wicked deeds, they cannot be very guilty on account of thoughts which may revolve in their minds, however corrupt they may be. they look upon their thoughts as things which spring up in the heart by some laws of association which they cannot understand, or which, if understood, they cannot control. as they have not summoned, so neither, in their view, can they dismiss them; but must surrender themselves to their influence for a period, longer or shorter, until some circumstance occurs which gives a new direction to the current of thinking. when they confess their sins, there are oftentimes words and deeds which they admit to be grievously in conflict with the demands of the divine word. but it rarely happens that any unhallowed imaginations in which they have indulged awaken emotions of genuine sorrow. now the thoughts are the guests we entertain--the company we receive into the innermost privacy of our bosoms. and just as a man is censurable who voluntarily and habitually consorts with corrupting company, so is he to be condemned who deliberately entertains depraved thoughts. let every one, and especially every young man, remember that _god holds us responsible for our thoughts._ man can take cognizance only of the outward appearance. his observation must be limited to those words and actions which can be perceived by the senses. but the scrutiny of omniscience extends further, penetrating the evil which hides our inner selves from the view of others; it explores the most private recesses of the spirit, and perfectly understands that portion of our character which others cannot scan. man can only call us good or evil, as our words and actions authorize. but he whose glance enters the heart and surveys the emotions which are there cherished, condemns, as wicked, every unhallowed thought; and will as surely take these into the account in determining our final retribution as he will consider in that reckoning our outward acts, "guard well your thoughts." "your thoughts are heard in heaven," says a distinguished poet. never was there a more scriptural sentiment. but perhaps there may be those to whom this may look like a harsh procedure. if it were true, as some suppose, that we could not control our thoughts--that they rushed uninvited upon our attention, that they detained that attention for a time, longer or shorter, just as they pleased, and that they departed as unceremoniously as they entered our mind--then i grant that it would be hard to make us responsible for such visitors. if we had no power over our own mental operations, it would seem as unjust to punish us for our delinquencies in these particulars as to censure us for the depravity of a resident of asia or africa. but can you defend such a position as this? have you no power to determine what themes _shall_ and what shall _not_ employ your meditations? are you the mere slave for your thoughts, compelled to follow as they, by some caprice, may direct? no intelligent mind in which the will is ruler is prepared to admit that it has been subjected to such vassalage. the truth is, and i appeal to your own consciences in support of the declaration, that you are endowed with the power of thinking upon just such subjects as you may prefer. you can, at pleasure, direct your attention to any topic, agreeable or disagreeable, lawful or unlawful, connected with the past, present, or future; you can revolve it in your mind for a longer or shorter period, and then you can dismiss it entirely from your consideration. if this were not true; if your thoughts were not under the control of the will, you would be incompetent to manage your business; you would be disqualified for every pursuit of life involving the exercise of reason. you would in truth be insane. now it is because god has given us the power over our own thinking that it assumes a moral complexion in his sight. the man who resigns himself to unholy reveries, or who entertains in his own heart purposes which, if acted out, would render him liable to the censure of his fellow men, and to condemnation from god, is as certainly guilty, though it may not be to the same extent, as though he had been openly corrupt and abandoned. "out of the heart," says the saviour, "proceed evil thoughts." here observe that our lord plainly teaches that our thoughts may be evil or sinful, and therefore may expose him who harbors them to punishment. and lest any one should be disposed to look upon evil thoughts as an offense too trivial to awaken any concern, mark the company in which this sin is found. learn from those offenses with which it is classed something of the enormity to which it may rise. "out of the heart proceedeth evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies." one of the most important counsels in the entire volume of revelation, is the direction of the wise man: "keep thy heart with all diligence." this is the fountain whence issue the streams which are to fertilize and gladden, or to pollute and destroy. no one was ever wicked in speech or action who was not first wicked in heart. the deeds of atrocity which shock us in execution were first performed in heart--in thought. had this been "kept," had the early idea been restrained, the result so fearful in development might have been averted. young men, look to the springs of action, as you would avoid acts which involve you in ruin and disgrace. keep the heart as you would secure a conduit, which, with god's blessing, will make you honorable, lawful, and happy now, and all that you desire hereafter. _look to your thoughts._ "build a little fence of trust around to-day; fill the space with loving thought, and therein stay; look not from its sheltering bars upon to-morrow, god will help thee bear what comes, of joy or sorrow." kept for the master's use by frances ridley havergal philadelphia henry altemus company copyrighted , by henry altemus. henry altemus, manufacturer, philadelphia. contents. i. our lives kept for jesus, ii. our moments kept for jesus, iii. our hands kept for jesus, iv. our feet kept for jesus, v. our voices kept for jesus, vi. our lips kept for jesus, vii. our silver and gold kept for jesus, viii. our intellects kept for jesus, ix. our wills kept for jesus, x. our hearts kept for jesus, xi. our love kept for jesus, xii. our selves kept for jesus, xiii. christ for us, prefatory note. my beloved sister frances finished revising the proofs of this book shortly before her death on whit tuesday, june , , but its publication was to be deferred till the autumn. in appreciation of the deep and general sympathy flowing in to her relatives, they wish that its publication should not be withheld. knowing her intense desire that christ should be magnified, whether by her life or in her death, may it be to his glory that in these pages she, being dead, 'yet speaketh!' maria v. g. havergal. oakhampton, worchestershire. kept for the master's use. take my life, and let it be consecrated, lord, to thee. take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise. take my hands, and let them move at the impulse of thy love. take my feet, and let them be swift and 'beautiful' for thee. take my voice, and let me sing always, only, for my king. take my lips and let them be filled with messages from thee. take my silver and my gold; not a mite would i withhold. take my intellect, and use every power as thou shalt choose. take my will and make it thine; it shall be no longer mine. take my heart; it _is_ thine own; it shall be thy royal throne. take my love; my lord, i pour at thy feet its treasure-store. take myself, and i will be ever, _only_, all for thee. chapter i. our lives kept for jesus. _'keep my life, that it may be_ _consecrated, lord, to thee.'_ many a heart has echoed the little song: 'take my life, and let it be consecrated, lord, to thee!' and yet those echoes have not been, in every case and at all times, so clear, and full, and firm, so continuously glad as we would wish, and perhaps expected. some of us have said: 'i launch me forth upon a sea of boundless love and tenderness;' and after a little we have found, or fancied, that there is a hidden leak in our barque, and though we are doubtless still afloat, yet we are not sailing with the same free, exultant confidence as at first. what is it that has dulled and weakened the echo of our consecration song? what is the little leak that hinders the swift and buoyant course of our consecrated life? holy father, let thy loving spirit guide the hand that writes, and strengthen the heart of every one who reads what shall be written, for jesus' sake. while many a sorrowfully varied answer to these questions may, and probably will, arise from touched and sensitive consciences, each being shown by god's faithful spirit the special sin, the special yielding to temptation which has hindered and spoiled the blessed life which they sought to enter and enjoy, it seems to me that one or other of two things has lain at the outset of the failure and disappointment. first, it may have arisen from want of the simplest belief in the simplest fact, as well as want of trust in one of the simplest and plainest words our gracious master ever uttered! the unbelieved fact being simply that he hears us; the untrusted word being one of those plain, broad foundation-stones on which we rested our whole weight, it may be many years ago, and which we had no idea we ever doubted, or were in any danger of doubting now,--'him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out.' 'take my life!' we have said it or sung it before the lord, it may be many times; but if it were only once whispered in his ear with full purpose of heart, should we not believe that he heard it? and if we know that he heard it, should we not believe that he has answered it, and fulfilled this, our heart's desire? for with him hearing means heeding. then why should we doubt that he did verily take our lives when we offered them--our bodies when we presented them? have we not been wronging his faithfulness all this time by practically, even if unconsciously, doubting whether the prayer ever really reached him? and if so, is it any wonder that we have not realized all the power and joy of full consecration? by some means or other he has to teach us to trust implicitly at every step of the way. and so, if we did not really trust in this matter, he has had to let us find out our want of trust by withholding the sensible part of the blessing, and thus stirring us up to find out why it is withheld. an offered gift must be either accepted or refused. can he have refused it when he has said, 'him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out'? if not, then it must have been accepted. it is just the same process as when we came to him first of all, with the intolerable burden of our sins. there was no help for it but to come with them to him, and take his word for it that he would not and did not cast us out. and so coming, so believing, we found rest to our souls; we found that his word was true, and that his taking away our sins was a reality. some give their lives to him then and there, and go forth to live thenceforth not at all unto themselves, but unto him who died for them. this is as it should be, for conversion and consecration ought to be simultaneous. but practically it is not very often so, except with those in whom the bringing out of darkness into marvellous light has been sudden and dazzling, and full of deepest contrasts. more frequently the work resembles the case of the hebrew servant described in exodus xxi., who, after six years' experience of a good master's service, dedicates himself voluntarily, unreservedly, and irrevocably to it, saying, 'i love my master; i will not go out free;' the master then accepting and sealing him to a life-long service, free in law, yet bound in love. this seems to be a figure of later consecration founded on experience and love. and yet, as at our first coming, it is less than nothing, worse than nothing that we have to bring; for our lives, even our redeemed and pardoned lives, are not only weak and worthless, but defiled and sinful. but thanks be to god for the altar that sanctifieth the gift, even our lord jesus christ himself! by him we draw nigh unto god; to him, as one with the father, we offer our living sacrifice; in him, as the beloved of the father, we know it is accepted. so, dear friends, when once he has wrought in us the desire to be altogether his own, and put into our hearts the prayer, 'take my life,' let us go on our way rejoicing, believing that he _has_ taken our lives, our hands, our feet, our voices, our intellects, our wills, our whole selves, to be ever, only, all for him. let us consider that a blessedly settled thing; not because of anything we have felt, or said, or done, but because we know that he heareth us, and because we know that he is true to his word. but suppose our hearts do not condemn us in this matter, our disappointment may arise from another cause. it may be that we have not received, because we have not asked a fuller and further blessing. suppose that we did believe, thankfully and surely, that the lord heard our prayer, and that he did indeed answer and accept us, and set us apart for himself; and yet we find that our consecration was not merely miserably incomplete, but that we have drifted back again almost to where we were before. or suppose things are not quite so bad as that, still we have not quite all we expected; and even if we think we can truly say, 'o god, my heart is fixed,' we find that, to our daily sorrow, somehow or other the details of our conduct do not seem to be fixed, something or other is perpetually slipping through, till we get perplexed and distressed. then we are tempted to wonder whether after all there was not some mistake about it, and the lord did not really take us at our word, although we took him at his word. and then the struggle with one doubt, and entanglement, and temptation only seems to land us in another. what is to be done then? first, i think, very humbly and utterly honestly to search and try our ways before our god, or rather, as we shall soon realize our helplessness to make such a search, ask him to do it for us, praying for his promised spirit to show us unmistakably if there is any secret thing with us that is hindering both the inflow and outflow of his grace to us and through us. do not let us shrink from some unexpected flash into a dark corner; do not let us wince at the sudden touching of a hidden plague-spot. the lord always does his own work thoroughly if we will only let him do it; if we put our case into his hands, he will search and probe fully and firmly, though very tenderly. very painfully, it may be, but only that he may do the very thing we want,--cleanse us and heal us thoroughly, so that we may set off to walk in real newness of life. but if we do not put it unreservedly into his hands, it will be no use thinking or talking about our lives being consecrated to him. the heart that is not entrusted to him for searching, will not be undertaken by him for cleansing; the life that fears to come to the light lest any deed should be reproved, can never know the blessedness and the privileges of walking in the light. but what then? when he has graciously again put a new song in our mouth, and we are singing, 'ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, who like me his praise should sing?' and again with fresh earnestness we are saying, 'take my life, and let it be consecrated, lord, to thee!' are we only to look forward to the same disappointing experience over again? are we always to stand at the threshold? consecration is not so much a step as a course; not so much an act, as a position to which a course of action inseparably belongs. in so far as it is a course and a position, there must naturally be a definite entrance upon it, and a time, it may be a moment, when that entrance is made. that is when we say, 'take'; but we do not want to go on taking a first step over and over again. what we want now is to be maintained in that position, and to fulfil that course. so let us go on to another prayer. having already said, 'take my life, for i cannot give it to thee,' let us now say, with deepened conviction, that without christ we really can do nothing,--'keep my life, for i cannot keep it for thee.' let us ask this with the same simple trust to which, in so many other things, he has so liberally and graciously responded. for this is the confidence that we have in him, that if we ask anything according to his will, he heareth us; and if we know that he hears us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him. there can be no doubt that this petition is according to his will, because it is based upon many a promise. may i give it to you just as it floats through my own mind again and again, knowing whom i have believed, and being persuaded that he is _able to keep_ that which i have committed unto him? keep my life, that it may be consecrated, lord, to thee. keep my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise. keep my hands, that they may move at the impulse of thy love. keep my feet, that they may be swift and 'beautiful' for thee. keep my voice, that i may sing always, only, for my king. keep my lips, that they may be filled with messages from thee. keep my silver and my gold; not a mite would i withhold. keep my intellect, and use every power as thou shalt choose. keep my will, oh, keep it thine! for it is no longer mine. keep my heart; it _is_ thine own; it is now thy royal throne. keep my love; my lord, i pour at thy feet its treasure-store. keep myself, that i may be ever, _only_, all for thee. yes! he who is able and willing to take unto himself, is no less able and willing to keep for himself. our willing offering has been made by his enabling grace, and this our king has 'seen with joy.' and now we pray, 'keep this for ever in the imagination of the thoughts of the heart of thy people' ( chron. xxix. , ). this blessed 'taking,' once for all, which we may quietly believe as an accomplished fact, followed by the continual 'keeping,' for which he will be continually inquired of by us, seems analogous to the great washing by which we have part in christ, and the repeated washing of the feet for which we need to be continually coming to him. for with the deepest and sweetest consciousness that he has indeed taken our lives to be his very own, the need of his active and actual keeping of them in every detail and at every moment is most fully realized. but then we have the promise of our faithful god, 'i the lord _do_ keep it, i will keep it night and day.' the only question is, will we trust this promise, or will we not? if we do, we shall find it come true. if not, of course it will not be realized. for unclaimed promises are like uncashed cheques; they will keep us from bankruptcy, but not from want. but if not, _why_ not? what right have we to pick out one of his faithful sayings, and say we don't expect him to fulfil that? what defence can we bring, what excuse can we invent, for so doing? if you appeal to experience against his faithfulness to his word, i will appeal to experience too, and ask you, did you ever _really trust_ jesus to fulfil any word of his to you, and find your trust deceived? as to the past experience of the details of your life not being kept for jesus, look a little more closely at it, and you will find that though you may have asked, you did not trust. whatever you did really trust him to keep, he has kept, and the unkept things were never really entrusted. scrutinize this past experience as you will, and it will only bear witness against your unfaithfulness, never against his absolute faithfulness. yet this witness must not be unheeded. we must not forget the things that are behind till they are confessed and forgiven. let us now bring all this unsatisfactory past experience, and, most of all, the want of trust which has been the poison-spring of its course, to the precious blood of christ, which cleanseth us, even us, from all sin, even this sin. perhaps we never saw that we were not trusting jesus as he deserves to be trusted; if so, let us wonderingly hate ourselves the more that we could be so trustless to such a saviour, and so sinfully dark and stupid that we did not even see it. and oh, let us wonderingly love him the more that he has been so patient and gentle with us, upbraiding not, though in our slow-hearted foolishness we have been grieving him by this subtle unbelief, and then, by his grace, may we enter upon a new era of experience, our lives kept for him more fully than ever before, because we trust him more simply and unreservedly to keep them! here we must face a question, and perhaps a difficulty. does it not almost seem as if we were at this point led to trusting to our trust, making everything hinge upon it, and thereby only removing a subtle dependence upon ourselves one step farther back, disguising instead of renouncing it? if christ's keeping depends upon our trusting, and our continuing to trust depends upon ourselves, we are in no better or safer position than before, and shall only be landed in a fresh series of disappointments. the old story, something for the sinner to _do_, crops up again here, only with the ground shifted from 'works' to trust. said a friend to me, 'i see now! i did trust jesus to do everything else for me, but i thought that this trusting was something that _i_ had got to do.' and so, of course, what she 'had got to do' had been a perpetual effort and frequent failure. we can no more trust and keep on trusting than we can do anything else of ourselves. even in this it must be 'jesus only'; we are not to look to him only to be the author and finisher of our faith, but we are to look to him for all the intermediate fulfilment of the work of faith ( thess. i. ); we must ask him to go on fulfilling it in us, committing even this to his power. for we both may and must commit our very faith to him, entrust to him our trust. what a long time it takes us to come down to the conviction, and still more to the realization of the fact that without him we can do _nothing_, but that he must work _all_ our works in us! this is the work of god, that ye believe in him whom he has sent. and no less must it be the work of god that we go on believing, and that we go on trusting. then, dear friends, who are longing to trust him with unbroken and unwavering trust, cease the effort and drop the burden, and _now_ entrust your trust to him! he is just as well able to keep that as any other part of the complex lives which we want him to take and keep for himself. and oh, do not pass on content with the thought, 'yes, that is a good idea; perhaps i should find that a great help!' but, 'now, then, _do it_.' it is no help to the sailor to see a flash of light across a dark sea, if he does not instantly steer accordingly. consecration is not a religiously selfish thing. if it sinks into that, it ceases to be consecration. we want our lives kept, not that we may feel happy, and be saved the distress consequent on wandering, and get the power with god and man, and all the other privileges linked with it. we shall have all this, because the lower is included in the higher; but our true aim, if the love of christ constraineth us, will be far beyond this. not for 'me' at all but 'for jesus'; not for my safety, but for his glory; not for my comfort, but for his joy; not that i may find rest, but that he may see the travail of his soul, and be satisfied! yes, for _him_ i want to be kept. kept for his sake; kept for his use; kept to be his witness; kept for his joy! kept for him, that in me he may show forth some tiny sparkle of his light and beauty; kept to do his will and his work in his own way; kept, it may be, to suffer for his sake; kept for him, that he may do just what seemeth him good with me; kept, so that no other lord shall have any more dominion over me, but that jesus shall have all there is to have;--little enough, indeed, but not divided or diminished by any other claim. is not this, o you who love the lord--is not this worth living for, worth asking for, worth trusting for? this is consecration, and i cannot tell you the blessedness of it. it is not the least use arguing with one who has had but a taste of its blessedness, and saying to him, 'how can these things be?' it is not the least use starting all sorts of difficulties and theoretical suppositions about it with such a one, any more than it was when the jews argued with the man who said, 'one thing i know, that whereas i was blind, now i see.' the lord jesus does take the life that is offered to him, and he does keep the life for himself that is entrusted to him; but until the life is offered we cannot know the taking, and until the life is entrusted we cannot know or understand the keeping. all we can do is to say, 'o taste and see!' and bear witness to the reality of jesus christ, and set to our seal that we have found him true to his every word, and that we have proved him able even to do exceeding abundantly above all we asked or thought. why should we hesitate to bear this testimony? we have done nothing at all; we have, in all our efforts, only proved to ourselves, and perhaps to others, that we had no power either to give or keep our lives. why should we not, then, glorify his grace by acknowledging that we have found him so wonderfully and tenderly gracious and faithful in both taking and keeping as we never supposed or imagined? i shall never forget the smile and emphasis with which a poor working man bore this witness to his lord. i said to him, 'well, h., we have a good master, have we not?' 'ah,' said he, 'a deal better than ever _i_ thought!' that summed up his experience, and so it will sum up the experience of every one who will but yield their lives wholly to the same good master. i cannot close this chapter without a word with those, especially my younger friends, who, although they have named the name of christ, are saying, 'yes, this is all very well for some people, or for older people, but i am not ready for it; i can't say i see my way to this sort of thing.' i am going to take the lowest ground for a minute, and appeal to _your_ 'past experience.' are you satisfied with your experience of the other 'sort of thing'? your pleasant pursuits, your harmless recreations, your nice occupations, even your improving ones, what fruit are you having from them? your social intercourse, your daily talks and walks, your investments of all the time that remains to you over and above the absolute duties god may have given you, what fruit that shall remain have you from all this? day after day passes on, and year after year, and what shall the harvest be? what is even the present return? are you getting any real and lasting satisfaction out of it all? are you not finding that things lose their flavour, and that you are spending your strength day after day for nought? that you are no more satisfied than you were a year ago--rather less so, if anything? does not a sense of hollowness and weariness come over you as you go on in the same round, perpetually getting through things only to begin again? it cannot be otherwise. over even the freshest and purest earthly fountains the hand that never makes a mistake has written, 'he that drinketh of this water shall thirst again.' look into your own heart and you will find a copy of that inscription already traced, '_shall thirst again_.' and the characters are being deepened with every attempt to quench the inevitable thirst and weariness in life, which can only be satisfied and rested in full consecration to god. for 'thou hast made us _for thyself_, and the heart never resteth till it findeth rest in thee.' to-day i tell you of a brighter and happier life, whose inscription is, '_shall never thirst_,'--a life that is no dull round-and-round in a circle of unsatisfactorinesses, but a life that has found its true and entirely satisfactory centre, and set itself towards a shining and entirely satisfactory goal, whose brightness is cast over every step of the way. will you not seek it? do not shrink, and suspect, and hang back from what it may involve, with selfish and unconfiding and ungenerous half-heartedness. take the word of any who have willingly offered themselves unto the lord, that the life of consecration is 'a deal better than they thought!' choose this day whom you will serve with real, thorough-going, whole-hearted service, and he will receive you; and you will find, as we have found, that he is such a good master that you are satisfied with his goodness, and that you will never want to go out free. nay, rather take his own word for it; see what he says: 'if they obey and serve him, they shall spend their days in prosperity, and their years in pleasures.' you cannot possibly understand that till you are really _in_ his service! for he does not give, nor even show, his wages before you enter it. and he says, 'my servants shall sing for joy of heart.' but you cannot try over that song to see what it is like, you cannot even read one bar of it, till your nominal or even promised service is exchanged for real and undivided consecration. but when he can call you 'my servant,' then you will find yourself singing for joy of heart, because he says you shall. 'and who, then, is willing to consecrate his service this day unto the lord?' 'do not startle at the term, or think, because you do not understand all it may include, you are therefore not qualified for it. i dare say it comprehends a great deal more than either you or i understand, but we can both enter into the spirit of it, and the detail will unfold itself as long as our probation shall last. christ demands a hearty consecration in _will_, and he will teach us what that involves in _act_.' this explains the paradox that 'full consecration' may be in one sense the act of a moment, and in another the work of a lifetime. it must be complete to be real, and yet if real, it is always incomplete; a point of rest, and yet a perpetual progression. suppose you make over a piece of ground to another person. you give it up, then and there, entirely to that other; it is no longer in your own possession; you no longer dig and sow, plant and reap, at your discretion or for your own profit. his occupation of it is total; no other has any right to an inch of it; it is his affair thenceforth what crops to arrange for and how to make the most of it. but his practical occupation of it may not appear all at once. there may be waste land which he will take into full cultivation only by degrees, space wasted for want of draining or by over fencing, and odd corners lost for want of enclosing; fields yielding smaller returns than they might because of hedgerows too wide and shady, and trees too many and spreading, and strips of good soil trampled into uselessness for want of defined pathways. just so is it with our lives. the transaction of, so to speak, making them over to god is definite and complete. but then begins the practical development of consecration. and here he leads on 'softly, according as the children be able to endure.' i do not suppose any one sees anything like all that it involves at the outset. we have not a notion what an amount of waste of power there has been in our lives; we never measured out the odd corners and the undrained bits, and it never occurred to us what good fruit might be grown in our straggling hedgerows, nor how the shade of our trees has been keeping the sun from the scanty crops. and so, season by season, we shall be sometimes not a little startled, yet always very glad, as we find that bit by bit the master shows how much more may be made of our ground, how much more he is able to make of it than we did; and we shall be willing to work under him and do exactly what he points out, even if it comes to cutting down a shady tree, or clearing out a ditch full of pretty weeds and wild-flowers. as the seasons pass on, it will seem as if there was always more and more to be done; the very fact that he is constantly showing us something more to be done in it, proving that it is really his ground. only let him _have_ the ground, no matter how poor or overgrown the soil may be, and then 'he will make her wilderness like eden, and her desert like the garden of the lord.' yes, even _our_ 'desert'! and then we shall sing, 'my beloved has gone down into _his_ garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.' made for thyself, o god! made for thy love, thy service, thy delight; made to show forth thy wisdom, grace, and might; made for thy praise, whom veiled archangels laud: oh, strange and glorious thought, that we may be a joy to thee! yet the heart turns away from this grand destiny of bliss, and deems 'twas made for its poor self, for passing dreams, chasing illusions melting day by day, till for ourselves we read on this world's best, 'this is not rest!' chapter ii. our moments kept for jesus. _'keep my moments and my days;_ _let them flow in ceaseless praise.'_ it may be a little help to writer and reader if we consider some of the practical details of the life which we desire to have 'kept for jesus' in the order of the little hymn at the beginning of this book, with the one word 'take' changed to 'keep.' so we will take a couplet for each chapter. the first point that naturally comes up is that which is almost synonymous with life--our time. and this brings us at once face to face with one of our past difficulties, and its probable cause. when we take a wide sweep, we are so apt to be vague. when we are aiming at generalities we do not hit the practicalities. we forget that faithfulness to principle is only proved by faithfulness in detail. has not this vagueness had something to do with the constant ineffectiveness of our feeble desire that our time should be devoted to god? in things spiritual, the greater does not always include the less, but, paradoxically, the less more often includes the greater. so in this case, time is entrusted to us to be traded with for our lord. but we cannot grasp it as a whole. we instinctively break it up ere we can deal with it for any purpose. so when a new year comes round, we commit it with special earnestness to the lord. but as we do so, are we not conscious of a feeling that even a year is too much for us to deal with? and does not this feeling, that we are dealing with a larger thing than we can grasp, take away from the sense of reality? thus we are brought to a more manageable measure; and as the sunday mornings or the monday mornings come round, we thankfully commit the opening week to him, and the sense of help and rest is renewed and strengthened. but not even the six or seven days are close enough to our hand; even to-morrow exceeds our tiny grasp, and even to-morrow's grace is therefore not given to us. so we find the need of considering our lives as a matter of day by day, and that any more general committal and consecration of our time does not meet the case so truly. here we have found much comfort and help, and if results have not been entirely satisfactory, they have, at least, been more so than before we reached this point of subdivision. but if we have found help and blessing by going a certain distance in one direction, is it not probable we shall find more if we go farther in the same? and so, if we may commit the days to our lord, why not the hours, and why not the moments? and may we not expect a fresh and special blessing in so doing? we do not realize the importance of moments. only let us consider those two sayings of god about them, 'in a moment shall they die,' and, 'we shall all be changed in a moment,' and we shall think less lightly of them. eternal issues may hang upon any one of them, but it has come and gone before we can even think about it. nothing seems less within the possibility of our own keeping, yet nothing is more inclusive of all other keeping. therefore let us ask him to keep them for us. are they not the tiny joints in the harness through which the darts of temptation pierce us? only give us time, we think, and we should not be overcome. only give us time, and we could pray and resist, and the devil would flee from us! but he comes all in a moment; and in a moment--an unguarded, unkept one--we utter the hasty or exaggerated word, or think the un-christ-like thought, or feel the un-christ-like impatience or resentment. but even if we have gone so far as to say, 'take my moments,' have we gone the step farther, and really _let_ him take them--really entrusted them to him? it is no good saying 'take,' when we do not let go. how can another keep that which we are keeping hold of? so let us, with full trust in his power, first commit these slippery moments to him,--put them right into his hand,--and then we may trustfully and happily say, 'lord, keep them for me! keep every one of the quick series as it arises. i cannot keep them for thee; do thou keep them for thyself!' but the sanctified and christ-loving heart cannot be satisfied with only negative keeping. we do not want only to be kept from displeasing him, but to be kept always pleasing him. every 'kept _from_' should have its corresponding and still more blessed 'kept _for_.' we do not want our moments to be simply kept from satan's use, but kept for his use; we want them to be not only kept from sin, but kept for his praise. do you ask, 'but what use can he make of mere moments?' i will not stay to prove or illustrate the obvious truth that, as are the moments so will be the hours and the days which they build. you understand that well enough. i will answer your question as it stands. look back through the history of the church in all ages, and mark how often a great work and mighty influence grew out of a mere moment in the life of one of god's servants; a mere moment, but overshadowed and filled with the fruitful power of the spirit of god. the moment may have been spent in uttering five words, but they have fed five thousand, or even five hundred thousand. or it may have been lit by the flash of a thought that has shone into hearts and homes throughout the land, and kindled torches that have been borne into earth's darkest corners. the rapid speaker or the lonely thinker little guessed what use his lord was making of that single moment. there was no room in it for even a thought of that. if that moment had not been, though perhaps unconsciously, 'kept for jesus,' but had been otherwise occupied, what a harvest to his praise would have been missed! the same thing is going on every day. it is generally a moment--either an opening or a culminating one--that really does the work. it is not so often a whole sermon as a single short sentence in it that wings god's arrow to a heart. it is seldom a whole conversation that is the means of bringing about the desired result, but some sudden turn of thought or word, which comes with the electric touch of god's power. sometimes it is less than that; only a look (and what is more momentary?) has been used by him for the pulling down of strongholds. again, in our own quiet waiting upon god, as moment after moment glides past in the silence at his feet, the eye resting upon a page of his word, or only looking up to him through the darkness, have we not found that he can so irradiate one passing moment with his light that its rays never die away, but shine on and on through days and years? are not such moments proved to have been kept for him? and if some, why not all? this view of moments seems to make it clearer that it is impossible to serve two masters, for it is evident that the service of a moment cannot be divided. if it is occupied in the service of self, or any other master, it is not at the lord's disposal; he cannot make use of what is already occupied. oh, how much we have missed by not placing them at his disposal! what might he not have done with the moments freighted with self or loaded with emptiness, which we have carelessly let drift by! oh, what might have been if they had all been kept for jesus! how he might have filled them with his light and life, enriching our own lives that have been impoverished by the waste, and using them in far-spreading blessing and power! while we have been undervaluing these fractions of eternity, what has our gracious god been doing in them? how strangely touching are the words, 'what is man, that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him, and that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and _try him every moment?_' terribly solemn and awful would be the thought that he has been trying us every moment, were it not for the yearning gentleness and love of the father revealed in that wonderful expression of wonder, 'what is man, that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?' think of that ceaseless setting of his heart upon us, careless and forgetful children as we have been! and then think of those other words, none the less literally true because given under a figure: 'i, the lord, do keep it; _i will water it every moment._' we see something of god's infinite greatness and wisdom when we try to fix our dazzled gaze on infinite space. but when we turn to the marvels of the microscope, we gain a clearer view and more definite grasp of these attributes by gazing on the perfection of his infinitesimal handiworks. just so, while we cannot realize the infinite love which fills eternity, and the infinite vistas of the great future are 'dark with excess of light' even to the strongest telescopes of faith, we see that love magnified in the microscope of the moments, brought very close to us, and revealing its unspeakable perfection of detail to our wondering sight. but we do not see this as long as the moments are kept in our own hands. we are like little children closing our fingers over diamonds. how can they receive and reflect the rays of light, analyzing them into all the splendour of their prismatic beauty, while they are kept shut up tight in the dirty little hands? give them up; let our father hold them for us, and throw his own great light upon them, and then we shall see them full of fair colours of his manifold loving-kindnesses; and let him always keep them for us, and then we shall always see his light and his love reflected in them. and then, surely, they shall be filled with praise. not that we are to be always singing hymns, and using the expressions of other people's praise, any more than the saints in glory are always literally singing a new song. but praise will be the tone, the colour, the atmosphere in which they flow; none of them away from it or out of it. is it a little too much for them all to 'flow in ceaseless praise'? well, where will you stop? what proportion of your moments do you think enough for jesus? how many for the spirit of praise, and how many for the spirit of heaviness? be explicit about it, and come to an understanding. if he is not to have all, then _how much?_ calculate, balance, and apportion. you will not be able to do this in heaven--you know it will be all praise there; but you are free to halve your service of praise here, or to make the proportion what you will. yet,--he made you for his glory. yet,--he chose you that you should be to the praise of his glory. yet,--he loves you every moment, waters you every moment, watches you unslumberingly, cares for you unceasingly. yet,--he died for you! dear friends, one can hardly write it without tears. shall you or i remember all this love, and hesitate to give all our moments up to him? let us entrust him with them, and ask him to keep them all, every single one, for his own beloved self, and fill them _all_ with his praise, and let them _all_ be to his praise! chapter iii. our hands kept for jesus. _'keep my hands, that they may move_ _at the impulse of thy love.'_ when the lord has said to us, 'is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?' the next word seems to be, 'if it be, give me thine hand.' what a call to confidence, and love, and free, loyal, happy service is this! and how different will the result of its acceptance be from the old lamentation: 'we labour and have no rest; we have given the hand to the egyptians and to the assyrians.' in the service of these 'other lords,' under whatever shape they have presented themselves, we shall have known something of the meaning of having 'both the hands full with travail and vexation of spirit.' how many a thing have we 'taken in hand,' as we say, which we expected to find an agreeable task, an interest in life, a something towards filling up that unconfessed 'aching void' which is often most real when least acknowledged; and after a while we have found it change under our hands into irksome travail, involving perpetual vexation of spirit! the thing may have been of the earth and for the world, and then no wonder it failed to satisfy even the instinct of work, which comes natural to many of us. or it may have been right enough in itself, something for the good of others so far as we understood their good, and unselfish in all but unravelled motive, and yet we found it full of tangled vexations, because the hands that held it were not simply consecrated to god. well, if so, let us bring these soiled and tangle-making hands to the lord, 'let us lift up our heart with our hands' to him, asking him to clear and cleanse them. if he says, 'what is that in thine hand?' let us examine honestly whether it is something which he can use for his glory or not. if not, do not let us hesitate an instant about dropping it. it may be something we do not like to part with; but the lord is able to give thee much more than this, and the first glimpse of the excellency of the knowledge of christ jesus your lord will enable us to count those things loss which were gain to us. but if it is something which he can use, he will make us do ever so much more with it than before. moses little thought what the lord was going to make him do with that 'rod in his hand'! the first thing he had to do with it was to 'cast it on the ground,' and see it pass through a startling change. after this he was commanded to take it up again, hard and terrifying as it was to do so. but when it became again a rod in his hand, it was no longer what it was before, the simple rod of a wandering desert shepherd. henceforth it was 'the rod of god in his hand' (ex. iv. ), wherewith he should do signs, and by which god himself would do 'marvellous things' (ps. lxxviii. ). if we look at any old testament text about consecration, we shall see that the marginal reading of the word is, 'fill the hand' (_e. g._ ex. xxviii. ; chron. xxix. ). now, if our hands are full of 'other things,' they cannot be filled with 'the things that are jesus christ's'; there must be emptying before there can be any true filling. so if we are sorrowfully seeing that our hands have not been kept for jesus, let us humbly begin at the beginning, and ask him to empty them thoroughly, that he may fill them completely. for they _must_ be emptied. either we come to our lord willingly about it, letting him unclasp their hold, and gladly dropping the glittering weights they have been carrying, or, in very love, he will have to force them open, and wrench from the reluctant grasp the 'earthly things' which are so occupying them that he cannot have his rightful use of them. there is only one other alternative, a terrible one,--to be let alone till the day comes when not a gentle master, but the relentless king of terrors shall empty the trembling hands as our feet follow him out of the busy world into the dark valley, for 'it is certain we can carry nothing out.' yet the emptying and the filling are not all that has to be considered. before the hands of the priests could be filled with the emblems of consecration, they had to be laid upon the emblem of atonement (lev. viii. , etc.). that came first. 'aaron and his sons laid their hands upon the head of the bullock for the sin-offering.' so the transference of guilt to our substitute, typified by that act, must precede the dedication of ourselves to god. 'my faith would lay her hand on that dear head of thine, while like a penitent i stand, and there confess my sin.' the blood of that holy substitute was shed 'to make reconciliation upon the altar.' without that reconciliation we cannot offer and present ourselves to god; but this being made, christ himself presents us. and you, that were sometime alienated, and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath he reconciled in the body of his flesh through death, to present you holy and unblamable and unreprovable in his sight. then moses 'brought the ram for the burnt-offering; and aaron and his sons laid their hands upon the head of the ram, and moses burnt the whole ram upon the altar; it was a burnt-offering for a sweet savour, and an offering made by fire unto the lord.' thus christ's offering was indeed a whole one, body, soul, and spirit, each and all suffering even unto death. these atoning sufferings, accepted by god for us, are, by our own free act, accepted by us as the ground of our acceptance. then, reconciled and accepted, we are ready for consecration; for then 'he brought the other ram; the ram of consecration; and aaron and his sons laid their hands upon the head of the ram.' here we see christ, 'who is consecrated for evermore.' we enter by faith into union with him who said, 'for their sakes i sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth.' after all this, their hands were filled with 'consecrations for a sweet savour,' so, after laying the hand of our faith upon christ, suffering and dying for us, we are to lay that very same hand of faith, and in the very same way, upon him as consecrated for us, to be the source and life and power of our consecration. and then our hands shall be filled with 'consecrations,' filled with christ, and filled with all that is a sweet savour to god in him. 'and who then is willing to fill his hand this day unto the lord?' do you want an added motive? listen again: 'fill your hands to-day to the lord, that he may bestow upon you a blessing this day.' not a long time hence, not even to-morrow, but 'this day.' do you not want a blessing? is not your answer to your father's 'what wilt thou?' the same as achsah's, 'give me a blessing!' here is his promise of just what you so want; will you not gladly fulfil his condition? a blessing shall immediately follow. he does not specify what it shall be; he waits to reveal it. you will find it such a blessing as you had not supposed could be for you--a blessing that shall verily make you rich, with no sorrow added--a blessing _this day_. all that has been said about consecration applies to our literal members. stay a minute, and look at your hand, the hand that holds this little book as you read it. see how wonderfully it is made; how perfectly fitted for what it has to do; how ingeniously connected with the brain, so as to yield that instantaneous and instinctive obedience without which its beautiful mechanism would be very little good to us! _your_ hand, do you say? whether it is soft and fair with an easy life, or rough and strong with a working one, or white and weak with illness, it is the lord jesus christ's. it is not your own at all; it belongs to him. he made it, for without him was not anything made that was made, not even your hand. and he has the added right of purchase--he has bought it that it might be one of his own instruments. we know this very well, but have we realized it? have we really let him have the use of these hands of ours? and have we ever simply and sincerely asked him to keep them for his own use? does this mean that we are always to be doing some definitely 'religious' work, as it is called? no, but that _all that we do_ is to be always definitely done _for him_. there is a great difference. if the hands are indeed moving 'at the impulse of his love,' the simplest little duties and acts are transfigured into holy service to the lord. 'a servant with this clause makes drudgery divine; who sweeps a room as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine.' george herbert. a christian school-girl loves jesus; she wants to please him all day long, and so she practices her scales carefully and conscientiously. it is at the impulse of his love that her fingers move so steadily through the otherwise tiresome exercises. some day her master will find a use for her music; but meanwhile it may be just as really done unto him as if it were mr. sankey at his organ, swaying the hearts of thousands. the hand of a christian lad traces his latin verses, or his figures, or his copying. he is doing his best, because a banner has been given him that it may be displayed, not so much by talk as by continuance in well-doing. and so, for jesus' sake, his hand moves accurately and perseveringly. a busy wife, or daughter, or servant has a number of little manual duties to perform. if these are done slowly and leisurely, they may be got through, but there will not be time left for some little service to the poor, or some little kindness to a suffering or troubled neighbour, or for a little quiet time alone with god and his word. and so the hands move quickly, impelled by the loving desire for service or communion, kept in busy motion for jesus' sake. or it may be that the special aim is to give no occasion of reproach to some who are watching, but so to adorn the doctrine that those may be won by the life who will not be won by the word. then the hands will have their share to do; they will move carefully, neatly, perhaps even elegantly, making every thing around as nice as possible, letting their intelligent touch be seen in the details of the home, and even of the dress, doing or arranging all the little things decently and in order for jesus' sake. and so on with every duty in every position. it may seem an odd idea, but a simple glance at one's hand, with the recollection, 'this hand is not mine; it has been given to jesus, and it must be kept for jesus,' may sometimes turn the scale in a doubtful matter, and be a safeguard from certain temptations. with that thought fresh in your mind as you look at your hand, can you let it take up things which, to say the very least, are not 'for jesus'? things which evidently cannot be used, as they most certainly are not used, either for him or by him? cards, for instance! can you deliberately hold in it books of a kind which you know perfectly well, by sadly repeated experience, lead you farther from instead of nearer to him? books which must and do fill your mind with those 'other things' which, entering in, choke the word? books which you would not care to read at all, if your heart were burning within you at the coming of his feet to bless you? next time any temptation of this sort approaches, just _look at your hand!_ it was of a literal hand that our lord jesus spoke when he said, 'behold, the hand of him that betrayeth me is with me on the table;' and, 'he that dippeth his hand with me in the dish, the same shall betray me.' a hand so near to jesus, with him on the table, touching his own hand in the dish at that hour of sweetest, and closest, and most solemn intercourse, and yet betraying him! that same hand taking the thirty pieces of silver! what a tremendous lesson of the need of keeping for our hands! oh that every hand that is with him at his sacramental table, and that takes the memorial bread, may be kept from any faithless and loveless motion! and again, it was by literal 'wicked hands' that our lord jesus was crucified and slain. does not the thought that human hands have been so treacherous and cruel to our beloved lord make us wish the more fervently that our hands may be totally faithful and devoted to him? danger and temptation to let the hands move at other impulses is every bit as great to those who have nothing else to do but to render direct service, and who think they are doing nothing else. take one practical instance--our letter-writing. have we not been tempted (and fallen before the temptation), according to our various dispositions, to let the hand that holds the pen move at the impulse to write an unkind thought of another; or to say a clever and sarcastic thing, or a slightly coloured and exaggerated thing, which will make our point more telling; or to let out a grumble or a suspicion; or to let the pen run away with us into flippant and trifling words, unworthy of our high and holy calling? have we not drifted away from the golden reminder, 'should he reason with unprofitable talk, and with speeches wherewith he can do no good?' why has this been, perhaps again and again? is it not for want of putting our hands into our dear master's hand, and asking and trusting him to keep them? he _could_ have kept; he _would_ have kept! whatever our work or our special temptations may be, the principle remains the same, only let us apply it for ourselves. perhaps one hardly needs to say that the kept hands will be very gentle hands. quick, angry motions of the heart will sometimes force themselves into expression by the hand, though the tongue may be restrained. the very way in which we close a door or lay down a book may be a victory or a defeat, a witness to christ's keeping or a witness that we are not truly being kept. how can we expect that god will use this member as an instrument of righteousness unto him, if we yield it thus as an instrument of unrighteousness unto sin? therefore let us see to it, that it is at once yielded to him whose right it is; and let our sorrow that it should have been even for an instant desecrated to satan's use, lead us to entrust it henceforth to our lord, to be kept by the power of god through faith 'for the master's use.' for when the gentleness of christ dwells in us, he can use the merest touch of a finger. have we not heard of one gentle touch on a wayward shoulder being the turning-point of a life? i have known a case in which the master made use of less than that--only the quiver of a little finger being made the means of touching a wayward heart. what must the touch of the master's own hand have been! one imagines it very gentle, though so full of power. can he not communicate both the power and the gentleness? when he touched the hand of peter's wife's mother, she arose and ministered unto them. do you not think the hand which jesus had just touched must have ministered very excellently? as we ask him to 'touch our lips with living fire,' so that they may speak effectively for him, may we not ask him to touch our hands, that they may minister effectively, and excel in all that they find to do for him? then our hands shall be made strong by the hands of the mighty god of jacob. it is very pleasant to feel that if our hands are indeed our lord's, we may ask him to guide them, and strengthen them, and teach them. i do not mean figuratively, but quite literally. in everything they do for him (and that should be _everything we ever undertake_) we want to do it well--better and better. 'seek that ye may excel.' we are too apt to think that he has given us certain natural gifts, but has nothing practically to do with the improvement of them, and leaves us to ourselves for that. why not ask him to make these hands of ours more handy for his service, more skilful in what is indicated as the 'next thynge' they are to do? the 'kept' hands need not be clumsy hands. if the lord taught david's hands to war and his fingers to fight, will he not teach our hands, and fingers too, to do what he would have them do? the spirit of god must have taught bezaleel's hands as well as his head, for he was filled with it not only that he might devise cunning works, but also in cutting of stones and carving of timber. and when all the women that were wise-hearted did spin with their hands, the hands must have been made skilful as well as the hearts made wise to prepare the beautiful garments and curtains. there is a very remarkable instance of the hand of the lord, which i suppose signifies in that case the power of his spirit, being upon the hand of a man. in chron. xxviii. , we read: 'all this, said david, the lord made me understand in writing by his hand upon me, even all the works of this pattern.' this cannot well mean that the lord gave david a miraculously written scroll, because, a few verses before, it says that he had it all by the spirit. so what else can it mean but that as david wrote, the hand of the lord was upon his hand, impelling him to trace, letter by letter, the right words of description for all the details of the temple that solomon should build, with its courts and chambers, its treasuries and vessels? have we not sometimes sat down to write, feeling perplexed and ignorant, and wishing some one were there to tell us what to say? at such a moment, whether it were a mere note for post, or a sheet for press, it is a great comfort to recollect this mighty laying of a divine hand upon a human one, and ask for the same help from the same lord. it is sure to be given! and now, dear friend, what about your own hands? are they consecrated to the lord who loves you? and if they are, are you trusting him to keep them, and enjoying all that is involved in that keeping? do let this be settled with your master before you go on to the next chapter. after all, this question will hinge on another, do you love him? if you really do, there can surely be neither hesitation about yielding them to him, nor about entrusting them to him to be kept. _does he love you?_ that is the truer way of putting it; for it is not our love to christ, but the love of christ to us which constraineth us. and this is the impulse of the motion and the mode of the keeping. the steam-engine does not move when the fire is not kindled, nor when it is gone out; no matter how complete the machinery and abundant the fuel, cold coals will neither set it going nor keep it working. let us ask him so to shed abroad his love in our hearts by the holy ghost which is given unto us, that it may be the perpetual and only impulse of every action of our daily life. chapter iv. our feet kept for jesus. _'keep my feet, that they may be_ _swift and beautiful for thee.'_ the figurative keeping of the feet of his saints, with the promise that when they run they shall not stumble, is a most beautiful and helpful subject. but it is quite distinct from the literal keeping for jesus of our literal feet. there is a certain homeliness about the idea which helps to make it very real. these very feet of ours are purchased for christ's service by the precious drops which fell from his own torn and pierced feet upon the cross. they are to be his errand-runners. how can we let the world, the flesh, and the devil have the use of what has been purchased with such payment? shall 'the world' have the use of them? shall they carry us where the world is paramount, and the master cannot be even named, because the mention of his name would be so obviously out of place? i know the apparent difficulties of a subject which will at once occur in connection with this, but they all vanish when our bright banner is loyally unfurled, with its motto, '_all_ for jesus!' do you honestly want your very feet to be 'kept for jesus'? let these simple words, '_kept for jesus_,' ring out next time the dancing difficulty or any other difficulty of the same kind comes up, and i know what the result will be! shall 'the flesh' have the use of them? shall they carry us hither and thither merely because we like to go, merely because it pleases ourselves to take this walk or pay this visit? and after all, what a failure it is! if people only _would_ believe it, self-pleasing is always a failure in the end. our good master gives us a reality and fulness of _pleasure_ in pleasing him which we never get out of pleasing ourselves. shall 'the devil' have the use of them? oh no, of course not! we start back at this, as a highly unnecessary question. yet if jesus has not, satan has. for as all are serving either the prince of life or the prince of this world, and as no man can serve two masters, it follows that if we are not serving the one, we are serving the other. and satan is only too glad to disguise this service under the less startling form of the world, or the still less startling one of self. all that is not 'kept for jesus,' is left for self or the world, and therefore for satan. there is no fear but that our lord will have many uses for what is kept by him for himself. 'how beautiful are the feet of them that bring glad tidings of good things!' that is the best use of all; and i expect the angels think those feet beautiful, even if they are cased in muddy boots or goloshes. once the question was asked, 'wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing that thou hast no tidings ready?' so if we want to have these beautiful feet, we must have the tidings ready which they are to bear. let us ask him to keep our hearts so freshly full of his good news of salvation, that our mouths may speak out of their abundance. 'if the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth.' the 'two olive branches empty the golden oil out of themselves.' may we be so filled with the spirit that we may thus have much to pour out for others! besides the great privilege of carrying water from the wells of salvation, there are plenty of cups of cold water to be carried in all directions; not to the poor only,--ministries of love are often as much needed by a rich friend. but the feet must be kept for these; they will be too tired for them if they are tired out for self-pleasing. in such services we are treading in the blessed steps of his most holy life, who 'went about doing good.' then there is literal errand-going,--just to fetch something that is needed for the household, or something that a tired relative wants, whether asked or unasked. such things should come first instead of last, because these are clearly indicated as our lord's will for us to do, by the position in which he has placed us; while what _seems_ more direct service, may be after all not so directly apportioned by him. 'i have to go and buy some soap,' said one with a little sigh. the sigh was waste of breath, for her feet were going to do her lord's will for that next half-hour much more truly than if they had carried her to her well-worked district, and left the soap to take its chance. a member of the young women's christian association wrote a few words on this subject, which, i think, will be welcome to many more than she expected them to reach:-- 'may it not be a comfort to those of us who feel we have not the mental or spiritual power that others have, to notice that the living sacrifice mentioned in rom. xii. is our "bodies"? of course, that includes the mental power, but does it not also include the loving, sympathizing glance, the kind, encouraging word, _the ready errand for another_, the work of our hands, opportunities for all of which come oftener in the day than for the mental power we are often tempted to envy? may we be enabled to offer willingly that which we have. for if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not.' if our feet are to be kept at his disposal, our eyes must be ever toward the lord for guidance. we must look to him for our orders where to go. then he will be sure to give them. 'the steps of a good man are ordered by the lord.' very often we find that they have been so very literally ordered for us that we are quite astonished,--just as if he had not promised! do not smile at a _very_ homely thought! if our feet are not our own, ought we not to take care of them for him whose they are? is it quite right to be reckless about 'getting wet feet,' which might be guarded against either by forethought or afterthought, when there is, at least, a risk of hindering our service thereby? does it please the master when even in our zeal for his work we annoy anxious friends by carelessness in little things of this kind? may every step of our feet be more and more like those of our beloved master. let us continually consider him in this, and go where he would have gone, on the errands which he would have done, 'following hard' after him. and let us look on to the time when our feet shall stand in the gates of the heavenly jerusalem, when holy feet shall tread the streets of the holy city; no longer pacing any lonely path, for he hath said, 'they shall walk with me in white.' 'and he hath said, "how beautiful the feet!" the "feet" so weary, travel-stained, and worn-- the "feet" that humbly, patiently have borne the toilsome way, the pressure, and the heat. 'the "feet," not hasting on with wingèd might, nor strong to trample down the opposing foe; so lowly, and so human, they must go by painful steps to scale the mountain height. 'not unto all the tuneful lips are given, the ready tongue, the words so strong and sweet; yet all may turn, with humble, willing "feet," and bear to darkened souls the light from heaven. 'and fall they while the goal far distant lies, with scarce a word yet spoken for their lord-- his sweet approval he doth yet accord; their "feet" are beauteous in the master's eyes. 'with weary human "feet" he, day by day, once trod this earth to work his acts of love; and every step is chronicled above his servants take to follow in his way.' sarah geraldina stock. chapter v. our voices kept for jesus. _'keep my voice, and let me sing_ _always, only, for my king.'_ i have wondered a little at being told by an experienced worker, that in many cases the voice seems the last and hardest thing to yield entirely to the king; and that many who think and say they have consecrated all to the lord and his service, 'revolt' when it comes to be a question of whether they shall sing 'always, only,' for their king. they do not mind singing a few general sacred songs, but they do not see their way to really singing always and only unto and for him. they want to bargain and balance a little. they question and argue about what proportion they may keep for self-pleasing and company-pleasing, and how much they must 'give up'; and who will and who won't like it; and what they 'really _must_ sing,' and what they 'really must _not_ sing' at certain times and places; and what 'won't do,' and what they 'can't very well help,' and so on. and so when the question, 'how much owest thou unto my lord?' is applied to this particularly pleasant gift, it is not met with the loyal, free-hearted, happy response, 'all! yes, _all_ for jesus!' i know there are special temptations around this matter. vain and selfish ones--whispering how much better a certain song suits your voice, and how much more likely to be admired. faithless ones--suggesting doubts whether you can make the holy song 'go.' specious ones--asking whether you ought not to please your neighbours, and hushing up the rest of the precept, 'let every one of you please his neighbour _for his good to edification_' (rom. xv. ). cowardly ones--telling you that it is just a little too much to expect of you, and that you are not called upon to wave your banner in people's very faces, and provoke surprise and remark, as this might do. and so the banner is kept furled, the witness for jesus is not borne, and you sing for others and not for your king. the words had passed your lips, 'take my voice!' and yet you will not let him have it; you will not let him have that which costs you something, just _because_ it costs you something! and yet he lent you that pleasant voice that you might use it for him. and yet he, in the sureness of his perpetual presence, was beside you all the while, and heard every note as you sang the songs which were, as your inmost heart knew, _not_ for him. where is your faith? where is the consecration you have talked about? the voice has not been kept for him, because it has not been truly and unreservedly given to him. will you not now say, 'take my voice, for i had not given it to thee; keep my voice, for i cannot keep it for thee'? and he will keep it! you cannot tell, till you have tried, how surely all the temptations flee when it is no longer your battle but the lord's; nor how completely and _curiously_ all the difficulties vanish, when you simply and trustfully go forward in the path of full consecration in this matter. you will find that the keeping is most wonderfully real. do not expect to lay down rules and provide for every sort of contingency. if you could, you would miss the sweetness of the continual guidance in the 'kept' course. have only one rule about it--just to look up to your master about every single song you are asked or feel inclined to sing. if you are 'willing and obedient,' you will always meet his guiding eye. he will always keep the voice that is wholly at his disposal. soon you will have such experience of his immediate guidance that you will be utterly satisfied with it, and only sorrowfully wonder you did not sooner thus simply lean on it. i have just received a letter from one who has laid her special gift at the feet of the giver, yielding her voice to him with hearty desire that it might be kept for his use. she writes: 'i had two lessons on singing while in germany from our master. one was very sweet. a young girl wrote to me, that when she had heard me sing, "o come, every one that thirsteth," she went away and prayed that she might come, and she _did_ come, too. is not he good? the other was: i had been tempted to join the _gesang verein_ in n----. i prayed to be shown whether i was right in so doing or not. i did not see my way clear, so i went. the singing was all secular. the very first night i went i caught a bad cold on my chest, which prevented me from singing again at all till christmas. those were better than any lessons from a singing master!' does not this illustrate both the keeping _from_ and the keeping _for?_ in the latter case i believe she honestly wished to know her lord's will,--whether the training and practice were needed for his better service with her music, and that, therefore, she might take them for his sake; or whether the concomitants and influence would be such as to hinder the close communion with him which she had found so precious, and that, therefore, she was to trust him to give her 'much more than this.' and so, at once, he showed her unmistakeably what he would have her _not_ do, and gave her the sweet consciousness that he himself was teaching her and taking her at her word. i know what her passionate love for music is, and how very real and great the compensation from him must have been which could thus make her right down _glad_ about what would otherwise have been an immense disappointment. and then, as to the former of these two 'lessons,' the song she names was one substituted when she said, 'take my voice,' for some which were far more effective for her voice. but having freely chosen to sing what might glorify the master rather than the singer, see how, almost immediately, he gave her a reward infinitely outweighing all the drawing-room compliments or concert-room applause! that one consecrated song found echoes in heaven, bringing, by its blessed result, joy to the angels and glory to god. and the memory of that song is immortal; it will live through ages to come, never lost, never dying away, when the vocal triumphs of the world's greatest singers are past and forgotten for ever. now you who have been taking a half-and-half course, do _you_ get such rewards as this? you may well envy them! but why not take the same decided course, and share the same blessed keeping and its fulness of hidden reward? if you only knew, dear hesitating friends, what strength and gladness the master gives when we loyally 'sing forth the honour of his name,' you would not forego it! oh, if you only knew the difficulties it saves! for when you sing 'always and only for your king,' you will not get much entangled by the king's enemies, singing an out-and-out sacred song often clears one's path at a stroke as to many other things. if you only knew the rewards he gives--very often then and there; the recognition that you are one of the king's friends by some lonely and timid one; the openings which you quite naturally gain of speaking a word for jesus to hearts which, without the song, would never have given you the chance of the word! if you only knew the joy of believing that his sure promise, 'my word shall not return unto me void,' will be fulfilled as you _sing_ that word for him! if you only tasted the solemn happiness of knowing that you have indeed a royal audience, that the king himself is listening as you sing! if you only knew--and why should you not know? shall not the time past of your life suffice you for the miserable, double-hearted, calculating service? let him have the _whole_ use of your voice at any cost, and see if he does not put many a totally unexpected new song into your mouth! i am not writing all this to great and finished singers, but to everybody who can sing at all. those who think they have only a very small talent, are often most tempted not to trade with it for their lord. whether you have much or little natural voice, there is reason for its cultivation and room for its use. place it at your lord's disposal, and he will show you how to make the most of it for him; for not seldom his multiplying power is brought to bear on a consecrated voice. a puzzled singing master, very famous in his profession, said to one who tried to sing for jesus, 'well, you have not much voice; but, mark my words, you will always beat anybody with four times your voice!' he was right, though he did not in the least know why. a great many so-called 'sacred songs' are so plaintive and pathetic that they help to give a gloomy idea of religion. now _don't_ sing these; come out boldly, and sing definitely and unmistakeably for your king, and of your king, and to your king. you will soon find, and even outsiders will have to own, that it is a _good_ thing thus to show forth his loving-kindness and his faithfulness (see ps. xcii. - ). here i am usually met by the query, 'but what would you advise me to sing?' i can only say that i never got any practical help from asking any one but the master himself, and so i would advise you to do the same! he knows exactly what will best suit your voice and enable you to sing best for him; for he made it, and gave it just the pitch and tone he pleased, so, of course, he is the best counsellor about it. refer your question in simplest faith to him, and i am perfectly sure you will find it answered. he will direct you, and in some way or other the lord will provide the right songs for you to sing. that is the very best advice i can possibly give you on the subject, and you will prove it to be so if you will act upon it. only one thing i would add: i believe there is nothing like singing his own words. the preacher claims the promise, 'my word shall not return unto me void,' and why should not the singer equally claim it? why should we use his own inspired words, with faith in their power, when speaking or writing, and content ourselves with human words put into rhyme (and sometimes very feeble rhyme) for our singing? what a vista of happy work opens out here! what is there to prevent our using this mightiest of all agencies committed to human agents, the word, which is quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, whenever we are asked to sing? by this means, even a young girl may be privileged to make that word sound in the ears of many who would not listen to it otherwise. by this, the incorruptible seed may be sown in otherwise unreachable ground. it is a remarkable fact that it is actually the easiest way thus to take the very highest ground. you will find that singing bible words does not excite the prejudice or contempt that any other words, sufficiently decided to be worth singing, are almost sure to do. for very decency's sake, a bible song will be listened to respectfully; and for very shame's sake, no adverse whisper will be ventured against the words in ordinary english homes. the singer is placed on a vantage-ground, certain that at least the words of the song will be outwardly respected, and the possible ground of unfriendly criticism thus narrowed to begin with. but there is much more than this. one feels the power of his words for oneself as one sings. one loves them and rejoices in them, and what can be greater help to any singer than that? and one knows they are true, and that they cannot really return void, and what can give greater confidence than that? god _may_ bless the singing of any words, but he _must_ bless the singing of his own word, if that promise means what it says! the only real difficulty in the matter is that scripture songs, as a rule, require a little more practice than others. then practise them a little more! you think nothing of the trouble of learning, for instance, a sonata, which takes you many a good hour's practice before you can render it perfectly and expressively. but you shrink from a song, the accompaniment of which you cannot read off without any trouble at all. and you never think of such a thing as taking one-tenth the pains to learn that accompaniment that you took to learn that sonata! very likely, too, you take the additional pains to learn the sonata off by heart, so that you may play it more effectively. but you do not take pains to learn your accompaniment by heart, so that you may throw all your power into the expression of the words, undistracted by reading the notes and turning over the leaves. it is far more useful to have half a dozen scripture songs thoroughly learnt and made your own, than to have in your portfolios several dozen easy settings of sacred poetry which you get through with your eyes fixed on the notes. and every one thus thoroughly mastered makes it easier to master others. you will say that all this refers only to drawing-room singing. so it does, primarily, but then it is the drawing-room singing which has been so little for jesus and so much for self and society; and so much less has been said about it, and so much less _done_. there would not be half the complaints of the difficulty of witnessing for christ in even professedly christian homes and circles, if every converted singer were also a consecrated one. for nothing raises or lowers the tone of a whole evening so much as the character of the music. there are few things which show more clearly that, as a rule, a very definite step in advance is needed beyond being a believer or even a worker for christ. over how many grand or cottage pianos could the irish society's motto, 'for jesus' sake _only_,' be hung, without being either a frequent reproach, or altogether inappropriate? but what is learnt will, naturally, be sung. and oh! how many christian parents give their daughters the advantage of singing lessons without troubling themselves in the least about what songs are learnt, provided they are not exceptionally foolish! still more pressingly i would say, how many christian principals, to whom young lives are entrusted at the most important time of all for training, do not give themselves the least concern about this matter! as i write, i turn aside to refer to a list of songs learnt last term by a fresh young voice which would willingly be trained for higher work. there is just one 'sacred' song in the whole long list, and even that hardly such a one as the writer of the letter above quoted would care to sing in her fervent-spirited service of christ. all the rest are harmless and pleasing, but only suggestive of the things of earth, the things of the world that is passing away; not one that might lead upward and onward, not one that might touch a careless heart to seek first the kingdom of god, not one that might show forth the glory and praise of our king, not one that tells out his grace and love, not one that carries his comfort to his weary ones or his joy to his loving ones. she is left to find and learn _such_ songs as best she may; those which she will sing with all the ease and force gained by good teaching of them are no help at all, but rather hindrance in anything like wish or attempt to 'sing _for jesus_.' there is not the excuse that the songs of god's kingdom, songs which waft his own words to the souls around, would not have answered the teacher's purpose as well. god has taken care of that. he has not left himself without witness in this direction. he has given the most perfect melodies and the richest harmonies to be linked with his own words, and no singer can be trained beyond his wonderful provision in this way. i pray that even these poor words of mine may reach the consciences of some of those who have this responsibility, and lead them to be no longer unfaithful in this important matter, no longer giving this strangely divided service--training, as they profess to desire, the souls for god, and yet allowing the voices to be trained only for the world. but we must not run away with the idea that singing sacred songs and singing for jesus are convertible terms. i know by sorrowful personal experience that it is very possible to sing a sacred song and _not_ sing it for jesus. it is easier to have one's portfolio all right than one's heart, and the repertory is more easily arranged than the motives. when we have taken our side, and the difficulties of indecision are consequently swept away, we have a new set of more subtle temptations to encounter. and although the master will keep, the servant must watch and pray; and it is through the watching and the praying that the keeping will be effectual. we have, however, rather less excuse here than even elsewhere. for we never have to sing so very suddenly that we need be taken unawares. we have to think what to sing, and perhaps find the music, and the prelude has to be played, and all this gives quite enough time for us to recollect whose we are and whom we serve, and to arouse to the watch. quite enough, too, for quick, trustful prayer that our singing may be kept free from that wretched self-seeking or even self-consciousness, and kept entirely for jesus. our best and happiest singing will flow when there is a sweet, silent undercurrent of prayerful or praiseful communion with our master all through the song. as for nervousness, i am quite sure this is the best antidote to that. on the other hand, it is quite possible to sing for jesus without singing a sacred song. do not take an ell for the inch this seems to give, and run off with the idea that it does not matter after all what you sing, so that you sing in a good frame of mind! no such thing! and the admission needs very careful guarding, and must not be wrested into an excuse for looking back to the world's songs. but cases may and do arise in which it may be right to gratify a weary father, or win a wayward brother, by trying to please them with music to which they will listen when they would not listen to the songs you would rather sing. there are cases in which this may be done most truly for the lord's sake, and clearly under his guidance. sometimes cases arise in which we can only say, 'neither know we what to do, but our eyes are upon thee.' and when we honestly say that, depend upon it we shall find the promise true, 'i will guide thee with mine eye.' for god is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will, with the temptation, also make a way (gr. _the_ way) to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. i do not know why it should be so, but it certainly is a much rarer thing to find a young gentleman singing for jesus than a young lady,--a _very_ rare thing to find one with a cultivated voice consecrating it to the master's use. i have met some who were not ashamed to speak for him, to whom it never seemed even to occur to sing for him. they would go and teach a bible class one day, and the next they would be practising or performing just the same songs as those who care nothing for christ and his blood-bought salvation. they had left some things behind, but they had not left any of their old songs behind. they do not seem to think that being made new creatures in christ jesus had anything to do with this department of their lives. nobody could gather whether they were on the lord's side or not, as they stood and sang their neutral songs. the banner that was displayed in the class-room was furled in the drawing-room. now, my friends, you who have or may have far greater opportunities of displaying that banner than we womenkind, why should you be less brave and loyal than your sisters? we are weak and you are strong naturally, but recollect that want of decision always involves want of power, and compromising christians are always weak christians. you will never be mighty to the pulling down of strongholds while you have one foot in the enemy's camp, or on the supposed neutral ground, if such can exist (which i doubt), between the camps. you will never be a terror to the devil till you have enlisted every gift and faculty on the lord's side. here is a thing in which you may practically carry out the splendid motto, 'all for jesus.' you cannot be all for him as long as your voice is not for him. which shall it be? _all_ for him, or _partly_ for him? answer that to him whom you call master and lord. when once this drawing-room question is settled, there is not much need to expatiate about other forms of singing for jesus. as we have opportunity we shall be willing to do good with our pleasant gift in any way or place, and it is wonderful what nice opportunities he makes for us. whether to one little sick child or to a thousand listeners, according to the powers and openings granted, we shall take our happy position among those who minister with singing ( chron. vi. ). and in so far as we really do this unto the lord, i am quite sure he gives the hundred-fold now in this present time more than all the showy songs or self-gratifying performances we may have left for his sake. as we steadily tread this part of the path of consecration, we shall find the difficulties left behind, and the real pleasantness of the way reached, and it will be a delight to say to oneself, 'i _cannot_ sing the old songs;' and though you have thought it quite enough to say, 'with my song will i please my friends,' especially if they happen to be pleased with a mildly sacred song or two, you will strike a higher and happier, a richer and purer note, and say with david, 'with my song will i praise _him_.' david said also, 'my lips shall greatly rejoice _when_ i sing unto thee, and my soul, which thou hast redeemed.' and you will find that this comes true. singing for jesus, our saviour and king; singing for jesus, the lord whom we love! all adoration we joyously bring, longing to praise as they praise him above. singing for jesus, our master and friend, telling his love and his marvellous grace,-- love from eternity, love to the end, love for the loveless, the sinful, and base. singing for jesus, and trying to win many to love him, and join in the song; calling the weary and wandering in, rolling the chorus of gladness along. singing for jesus, our life and our light; singing for him as we press to the mark; singing for him when the morning is bright; singing, still singing, for him in the dark! singing for jesus, our shepherd and guide; singing for gladness of heart that he gives; singing for wonder and praise that he died; singing for blessing and joy that he lives! singing for jesus, oh, singing with joy; thus will we praise him, and tell out his love, till he shall call us to brighter employ, singing for jesus for ever above. chapter vi. our lips kept for jesus. _'keep my lips, that they may be_ _filled with messages from thee.'_ the days are past for ever when we said, 'our lips are our own.' now we know that they are not our own. and yet how many of my readers often have the miserable consciousness that they have 'spoken unadvisedly with their lips'! how many pray, 'keep the door of my lips,' when the very last thing they think of expecting is that they _will_ be kept! they deliberately make up their minds that hasty words, or foolish words, or exaggerated words, according to their respective temptations, must and will slip out of that door, and that it can't be helped. the extent of the real meaning of their prayer was merely that not quite so many might slip out. as their faith went no farther, the answer went no farther, and so the door was not kept. do let us look the matter straight in the face. either we have committed our lips to our lord, or we have not. this question must be settled first. if not, oh, do not let another hour pass! take them to jesus, and ask him to take them. but when you _have_ committed them to him, it comes to this,--is he able or is he not able to keep that which you have committed to him? if he is not able, of course you may as well give up at once, for your own experience has abundantly proved that _you_ are not able, so there is no help for you. but if he is able--nay, thank god there is no '_if_' on this side!--say, rather, _as_ he is able, where was this inevitable necessity of perpetual failure? you have been fancying yourself virtually doomed and fated to it, and therefore you have gone on in it, while all the time his arm was not shortened that it could not save, but you have been limiting the holy one of israel. honestly, now, have you trusted him to keep your lips _this day?_ trust necessarily implies expectation that what we have entrusted will be kept. if you have not expected him to keep, you have not trusted. you may have tried, and tried very hard, but you have not _trusted_, and therefore you have not been kept, and your lips have been the snare of your soul (prov. xviii. ). once i heard a beautiful prayer which i can never forget; it was this: 'lord, take my lips, and speak through them; take my mind, and think through it; take my heart, and set it on fire.' and this is the way the master keeps the lips of his servants, by so filling their hearts with his love that the outflow cannot be unloving, by so filling their thoughts that the utterance cannot be un-christ-like. there must be filling before there _can_ be pouring out; and if there is filling, there _must_ be pouring out, for he hath said, 'out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.' but i think we should look for something more direct and definite than this. we are not all called to be the king's ambassadors, but _all_ who have heard the messages of salvation for themselves are called to be 'the lord's messengers,' and day by day, as he gives us opportunity, we are to deliver 'the lord's message unto the people.' that message, as committed to haggai, was, 'i am with you, saith the lord.' is there not work enough for any lifetime in unfolding and distributing that one message to his own people? then, for those who are still far off, we have that equally full message from our lord to give out, which he has condensed for us into the one word, 'come!' it is a specially sweet part of his dealings with his messengers that he always gives us the message for ourselves first. it is what he has first told us in darkness--that is, in the secrecy of our own rooms, or at least of our own hearts--that he bids us speak in light. and so the more we sit at his feet and watch to see what he has to say to ourselves, the more we shall have to tell to others. he does not send us out with sealed despatches, which we know nothing about, and with which we have no concern. there seems a seven-fold sequence in his filling the lips of his messengers. first, they must be purified. the live coal from off the altar must be laid upon them, and he must say, 'lo, this hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin is purged.' then he will create the fruit of them, and this seems to be the great message of peace, 'peace to him that is far off, and to him that is near, saith the lord; and i will heal him' (see isa. lvii. ). then comes the prayer, 'o lord, open thou my lips,' and its sure fulfilment. for then come in the promises, 'behold, i have put my words in thy mouth,' and, 'they shall withal be fitted in thy lips.' then, of course, 'the lips of the righteous feed many,' for the food is the lord's own giving. everything leads up to praise, and so we come next to 'my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips, when i remember thee.' and lest we should fancy that '_when_' rather implies that it is not, or cannot be, exactly _always_, we find that the meditation of jesus throws this added light upon it, 'by _him_, therefore, let us offer the sacrifice of praise to god _continually_, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to' (margin, confessing) 'his name.' does it seem a coming down from the mount to glance at one of our king's commandments, which is specially needful and applicable to this matter of our lips being kept for him? 'watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.' none of his commands clash with or supersede one another. trusting does not supersede watching; it does but complete and effectuate it. unwatchful trust is a delusion, and untrustful watching is in vain. therefore let us not either wilfully or carelessly _enter_ into temptation, whether of place, or person, or topic, which has any tendency to endanger the keeping of our lips for jesus. let us pray that grace may be more and more poured into our lips as it was into his, so that our speech may be _alway_ with grace. may they be pure, and sweet, and lovely, even as 'his lips, like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.' we can hardly consider the keeping of our lips without recollecting that upon them, more than all else (though not exclusively of all else), depends that greatest of our responsibilities, our influence. we have no choice in the matter; we cannot evade or avoid it; and there is no more possibility of our limiting it, or even tracing its limits, than there is of setting a bound to the far-vibrating sound-waves, or watching their flow through the invisible air. not one sentence that passes these lips of ours but must be an invisibly prolonged influence, not dying away into silence, but living away into the words and deeds of others. the thought would not be quite so oppressive if we could know what we have done and shall be continuing to do by what we have said. but we _never_ can, as a matter of fact. we may trace it a little way, and get a glimpse of some results for good or evil; but we never can see any more of it than we can see of a shooting star flashing through the night with a momentary revelation of one step of its strange path. even if the next instant plunges it into apparent annihilation as it strikes the atmosphere of the earth, we know that it is not really so, but that its mysterious material and force must be added to the complicated materials and forces with which it has come in contact, with a modifying power none the less real because it is beyond our ken. and this is not comparing a great thing with a small, but a small thing with a great. for what is material force compared with moral force? what are gases, and vapours, and elements, compared with souls and the eternity for which they are preparing? we all know that there is influence exerted by a person's mere presence, without the utterance of a single word. we are conscious of this every day. people seem to carry an atmosphere with them, which _must_ be breathed by those whom they approach. some carry an atmosphere in which all unkind thoughts shrivel up and cannot grow into expression. others carry one in which 'thoughts of christ and things divine' never seem able to flourish. have you not felt how a happy conversation about the things we love best is checked, or even strangled, by the entrance of one who is not in sympathy? outsiders have not a chance of ever really knowing what delightful intercourse we have one with another about these things, because their very presence chills and changes it. on the other hand, how another person's incoming freshens and develops it and warms us all up, and seems to give us, without the least conscious effort, a sort of _lift!_ if even unconscious and involuntary influence is such a power, how much greater must it be when the recognised power of words is added! it has often struck me as a matter of observation, that open profession adds force to this influence, on whichever side it weighs; and also that it has the effect of making many a word and act, which might in other hands have been as nearly neutral as anything can be, tell with by no means neutral tendency on the wrong side. the question of eliphaz comes with great force when applied to one who desires or professes to be consecrated altogether, life _and_ lips: 'should _he_ reason with unprofitable talk, and with speeches _wherewith one can do no good?_' there is our standard! idle words, which might have fallen comparatively harmlessly from one who had never named the name of christ, may be a stumbling-block to inquirers, a sanction to thoughtless juniors, and a grief to thoughtful seniors, when they come from lips which are professing to feed many. even intelligent talk on general subjects by such a one may be a chilling disappointment to some craving heart, which had indulged the hope of getting help, comfort, or instruction in the things of god by listening to the conversation. it may be a lost opportunity of giving and gaining no one knows _how_ much! how well i recollect this disappointment to myself, again and again, when a mere child! in those early seeking days i never could understand why, sometimes, a good man whom i heard preach or speak as if he loved christ very much, talked about all sorts of other things when he came back from church or missionary meeting. i did so wish he would have talked about the saviour, whom i wanted, but had not found. it would have been so much more interesting even to the apparently thoughtless and merry little girl. how could he help it, i wondered, if he cared for that pearl of great price as i was sure i should care for it if i could only find it! and oh, why didn't they ever talk to me about it, instead of about my lessons or their little girls at home? they did not know how their conversation was observed and compared with their sermon or speech, and how a hungry little soul went empty away from the supper table. the lips of younger christians may cause, in their turn, no less disappointment. one sorrowful lesson i can never forget; and i will tell the story in hope that it may save others from causes of similar regret. during a summer visit just after i had left school, a class of girls about my own age came to me a few times for an hour's singing. it was very pleasant indeed, and the girls were delighted with the hymns. they listened to all i had to say about time and expression, and not with less attention to the more shyly-ventured remarks about the words. sometimes i accompanied them afterwards down the avenue; and whenever i met any of them i had smiles and plenty of kindly words for each, which they seemed to appreciate immensely. a few years afterwards i sat by the bedside of one of these girls--the most gifted of them all with both heart and head. she had been led by a wonderful way, and through long and deep suffering, into far clearer light than i enjoyed, and had witnessed for christ in more ways than one, and far more brightly than i had ever done. she told me how sorrowfully and eagerly she was seeking jesus at the time of those singing classes. and i never knew it, because i never asked, and she was too shy to speak first! but she told me more, and every word was a pang to me,--how she used to linger in the avenue on those summer evenings, longing that i would speak to her about the saviour; how she hoped, week after week, that i would just stretch out a hand to help her, just say one little word that might be god's message of peace to her, instead of the pleasant, general remarks about the nice hymns and tunes. and i never did! and she went on for months, i think for years, after, without the light and gladness which it might have been my privilege to bring to her life. god chose other means, for the souls that he has given to christ cannot be lost because of the unfaithfulness of a human instrument. but she said, and the words often ring in my ears when i am tempted to let an opportunity slip, 'ah, miss f., i ought to have been _yours!_' yes, it is true enough that we should show forth his praise not only with our lips, but in our lives; but with very many christians the other side of the prayer wants praying--they want rousing up even to _wish_ to show it forth not only in their lives but with their lips. i wonder how many, even of those who read this, really pray, 'o lord, open thou _my_ lips, and my mouth shall show forth thy praise.' and when opened, oh, how much one _does_ want to have them so kept for jesus that he may be free to make the most of them, not letting them render second-rate and indirect service when they might be doing direct and first-rate service to his cause and kingdom! it is terrible how much less is done for him than _might_ be done, in consequence of the specious notion that if what we are doing or saying is not bad, we are doing good in a certain way, and therefore may be quite easy about it. we should think a man rather foolish if he went on doing work which earned five shillings a week, when he might just as well do work in the same establishment and under the same master which would bring him in five pounds a week. but we should pronounce him shamefully dishonest and dishonourable if he accepted such handsome wages as the five pounds, and yet chose to do work worth only five shillings, excusing himself by saying that it was work all the same, and somebody had better do it. do we not act something like this when we take the lower standard, and spend our strength in just making ourselves agreeable and pleasant, creating a general good impression in favour of religion, showing that we can be all things to all men, and that one who is supposed to be a citizen of the other world can be very well up in all that concerns this world? this may be good, but is there nothing better? what does it profit if we do make this favourable impression on an outsider, if we go no farther and do not use the influence gained to bring him right inside the fold, inside the only ark of safety? people are not converted by this sort of work; at any rate, _i_ never met or heard of any one. 'he thinks it better for his quiet influence to tell!' said an affectionately excusing relative of one who had plenty of special opportunities of soul-winning, if he had only used his lips as well as his life for his master. 'and how many souls have been converted to god by his "quiet influence" all these years?' was my reply. and to that there was no answer! for the silent shining was all very beautiful in theory, but not one of the many souls placed specially under his influence had been known to be brought out of darkness into marvellous light. if they had, they must have been known, for such light can't help being seen. when one has even a glimmer of the tremendous difference between having christ and being without christ; when one gets but one shuddering glimpse of what eternity is, and of what it must mean, as well as what it may mean, without christ; when one gets but a flash of realization of the tremendous fact that all these neighbours of ours, rich and poor alike, will _have_ to spend that eternity either with him or without him,--it is hard, very hard indeed, to understand how a man or woman can believe these things at all, and make no effort for anything beyond the temporal elevation of those around, sometimes not even beyond their amusements! 'people must have entertainment,' they urge. i do not find that _must_ in the bible, but i do find, 'we _must_ all stand before the judgment-seat of christ.' and if you have any sort of belief in that, how can you care to use those lips of yours, which might be a fountain of life to the dying souls before you, merely to 'entertain' them at your penny reading or other entertainment? as you sow, so you reap. the amusing paper is read, or the lively ballad recited, or the popular song sung, and you reap your harvest of laughter or applause, and of complacence at your success in 'entertaining' the people. and there it ends, when you might have sown words from which you and they should reap fruit unto life eternal. is this worthy work for one who has been bought with such a price that he must say, 'love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all'? so far from yielding 'all' to that rightful demand of amazing love, he does not even yield the fruit of his lips to it, much less the lips themselves. i cannot refrain from adding, that even this lower aim of 'entertaining' is by no means so appreciated as is supposed. as a cottager of no more than average sense and intelligence remarked, 'it was all so _trifling_ at the reading; i wish gentlefolks would believe that poor people like something better than what's just to make them laugh.' after all, nothing really pays like direct, straightforward, uncompromising words about god and his works and word. nothing else ever made a man say, as a poor irishman did when he heard the good news for the first time, 'thank ye, sir; you've taken the hunger off us to-day!' jephthah uttered all his words before the lord; what about ours? well, they _are_ all uttered before the lord in one sense, whether we will or no; for there is not a word in my tongue, but lo, thou, o lord, knowest it altogether! how solemn is this thought, but how sweet does it become when our words are uttered consciously before the lord as we walk in the light of his perpetual presence! oh that we may so walk, that we may so speak, with kept feet and kept lips, trustfully praying, 'let the meditation of my heart and the words of my mouth be alway acceptable in thy sight, o lord, my strength and my redeemer!' bearing in mind that it is not only the words which pass their lightly-hinged portal, but our literal lips which are to be kept for jesus, it cannot be out of place, before closing this chapter, to suggest that they open both ways. what passes in should surely be considered as well as what passes out. and very many of us are beginning to see that the command, 'whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of god,' is not fully obeyed when we drink, merely because we like it, what is the very greatest obstacle to that glory in this realm of england. what matter that we prefer taking it in a more refined form, if the thing itself is daily and actively and mightily working misery, and crime, and death, and destruction to thousands, till the cry thereof seems as if it must pierce the very heavens! and so it does--sooner, a great deal, than it pierces the walls of our comfortable dining-room! i only say here, you who have said, 'take my lips,' stop and repeat that prayer next time you put that to your lips which is binding men and women hand and foot, and delivering them over, helpless, to satan! let those words pass once more from your heart _out_ through your lips, and i do not think you will feel comfortable in letting the means of such infernal work pass _in_ through them. chapter vii. our silver and gold kept for jesus. _'keep my silver and my gold;_ _not a mite would i withhold.'_ 'the silver and the gold is mine, saith the lord of hosts.' yes, every coin we have is literally our 'lord's money.' simple belief of this fact is the stepping-stone to full consecration of what he has given us, whether much or little. 'then you mean to say we are never to spend anything on ourselves?' not so. another fact must be considered,--the fact that our lord has given us our bodies as a special personal charge, and that we are responsible for keeping these bodies, according to the means given and the work required, in working order for him. this is part of our 'own work.' a master entrusts a workman with a delicate machine, with which his appointed work is to be done. he also provides him with a sum of money with which he is to procure all that may be necessary for keeping the machine in thorough repair. is it not obvious that it is the man's distinct duty to see to this faithfully? would he not be failing in duty if he chose to spend it all on something for somebody else's work, or on a present for his master, fancying that would please him better, while the machine is creaking and wearing for want of a little oil, or working badly for want of a new band or screw? just so, we are to spend what is really needful _on_ ourselves, because it is our charge to do so; but not _for_ ourselves, because we are not our own, but our master's. he who knoweth our frame, knows its needs of rest and medicine, food and clothing; and the procuring of these for our own entrusted bodies should be done just as much 'for jesus' as the greater pleasure of procuring them for some one else. therefore there need be no quibbling over the assertion that consecration is not real and complete while we are looking upon a single shilling as our own to do what we like with. also the principle is exactly the same, whether we are spending pence or pounds; it is our lord's money, and must not be spent without reference to him. when we have asked him to take, and continually trust him to keep our money, 'shopping' becomes a different thing. we look up to our lord for guidance to lay out his money prudently and rightly, and as he would have us lay it out. the gift or garment is selected consciously under his eye, and with conscious reference to him as our own dear master, for whose sake we shall give it, or in whose service we shall wear it, and whose own silver or gold we shall pay for it, and then it is all right. but have you found out that it is one of the secrets of the lord, that when any of his dear children turn aside a little bit after having once entered the blessed path of true and conscious consecration, he is sure to send them some little punishment? he will not let us go back without a sharp, even if quite secret, reminder. go and spend ever such a little without reference to him after you have once pledged the silver and gold entirely to him, and see if you are not in some way rebuked for it! very often by being permitted to find that you have made a mistake in your purchase, or that in some way it does not prosper. if you 'observe these things,' you will find that the more closely we are walking with our lord, the more immediate and unmistakeable will be his gracious rebukes when we swerve in any detail of the full consecration to which he has called us. and if you have already experienced and recognised this part of his personal dealing with us, you will know also how we love and bless him for it. there is always a danger that just because we say 'all,' we may practically fall shorter than if we had only said 'some,' but said it very definitely. god recognises this, and provides against it in many departments. for instance, though our time is to be 'all' for him, yet he solemnly sets apart the one day in seven which is to be specially for him. those who think they know better than god, and profess that every day is a sabbath, little know what floodgates of temptation they are opening by being so very wise above what is written. god knows best, and that should be quite enough for every loyal heart. so, as to money, though we place it all at our lord's disposal, and rejoice to spend it all for him directly or indirectly, yet i am quite certain it is a great help and safeguard, and, what is more, a matter of simple obedience to the spirit of his commands, to set aside a definite and regular proportion of our income or receipts for his direct service. it is a great mistake to suppose that the law of giving the tenth to god is merely levitical. 'search and look' for yourselves, and you will find that it is, like the sabbath, a far older rule, running all through the bible,[footnote: see gen. xiv. , xxviii. ; lev. xxvii. , ; num. xviii. ; deut. xiv. ; chron. xxxi. , , ; neh. x. , xii. , xiii. ; mal. iii. , ; matt. xxiii. ; luke xi. ; cor xvi. ; heb. vii. .] and endorsed, not abrogated, by christ himself. for, speaking of tithes, he said, 'these _ought_ ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.' to dedicate the tenth of whatever we have is mere duty; charity begins beyond it; free-will offerings and thank-offerings beyond that again. first-fruits, also, should be thus specially set apart. this, too, we find running all through the bible. there is a tacit appeal to our gratitude in the suggestion of them,--the very word implies bounty received and bounty in prospect. bringing 'the first of the first-fruits into the house of the lord thy god,' was like 'saying grace' for all the plenty he was going to bestow on the faithful israelite. something of gladness, too, seems always implied. 'the day of the first-fruits' was to be a day of rejoicing (compare num. xxviii. with deut. xvi. , ). there is also an appeal to loyalty: we are commanded to _honour_ the lord with the first-fruits of all our increase. and _that_ is the way to prosper, for the next word is, '_so_ shall thy barns be filled with plenty.' the friend who first called my attention to this command, said that the setting apart first-fruits--making a proportion for god's work a _first charge_ upon the income--always seemed to bring a blessing on the rest, and that since this had been systematically done, it actually seemed to go farther than when not thus lessened. presenting our first-fruits should be a peculiarly delightful act, as they are themselves the emblem of our consecrated relationship to god. for of his own will begat he us by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures. how sweet and hallowed and richly emblematic our little acts of obedience in this matter become, when we throw this light upon them! and how blessedly they may remind us of the heavenly company, singing, as it were, a new song before the throne; for they are the first-fruits unto god and to the lamb. perhaps we shall find no better plan of detailed and systematic setting apart than the new testament one: 'upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as god hath prospered him.' the very act of literally fulfilling this apostolic command seems to bring a blessing with it, as all simple obedience does. i wish, dear friends, you would try it! you will find it a sweet reminder on his own day of this part of your consecration. you will find it an immense help in making the most of your little charities. the regular inflow will guide the outflow, and ensure your always having _something_ for any sudden call for your master's poor or your master's cause. do not say you are 'afraid you could not keep to it.' what has a consecrated life to do with being 'afraid'? some of us could tell of such sweet and singular lessons of trust in this matter, that they are written in golden letters of love on our memories. of course there will be trials of our faith in this, as well as in everything else. but every trial of our faith is but a trial of his faithfulness, and is 'much more precious than gold which perisheth.' 'what about self-denial?' some reader will say. consecration does not supersede this, but transfigures it. literally, a consecrated life is and must be a life of denial of self. but all the effort and pain of it is changed into very delight. we love our master; we know, surely and absolutely, that he is listening and watching our every word and way, and that he has called us to the privilege of walking 'worthy of the lord unto all pleasing.' and in so far as this is a reality to us, the identical things which are still self-_denial_ in one sense, become actual self-_delight_ in another. it may be self-denial to us to turn away from something within reach of our purse which it would be very convenient or pleasant to possess. but if the master lifted the veil, and revealed himself standing at our side, and let us hear his audible voice asking us to reserve the price of it for his treasury, should we talk about self-denial then? should we not be utterly ashamed to think of it? or rather, should we, for one instant, think about self or self-denial at all? would it not be an unimaginable joy to do what he asked us to do with that money? but as long as his own unchangeable promise stands written in his word for us, 'lo, i am with you _alway_,' we may be sure that he _is_ with us, and that his eye is as certainly on our opened or half-opened purse as it was on the treasury, when he sat over against it and saw the two mites cast in. so let us do our shopping 'as seeing him who is invisible.' it is important to remember that there is no much or little in god's sight, except as relatively to our means and willingness. 'for if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not.' he knows what we have _not_, as well as what we have. he knows all about the low wages in one sphere, and the small allowance, or the fixed income with rising prices in another. and it is not a question of paying to god what can be screwed out of these, but of giving him all, and then holding all at his disposal, and taking his orders about the disposal of all. but i do not see at all how self-indulgence and needless extravagance can possibly co-exist with true consecration. if we really never do go _without_ anything for the lord's sake, but, just because he has graciously given us means, always supply for ourselves not only every need but 'every notion,' i think it is high time we looked into the matter before god. why should only those who have limited means have the privilege of offering to their lord that which has really cost them something to offer? observe, it is not _merely_ going without something we would naturally like to have or do, but going without it _for jesus' sake_. not, 'i will go without it, because, after all, i can't very well afford it;' or, 'because i really ought to subscribe to so and so;' or, 'because i daresay i shall be glad i have not spent the money:' but, 'i will do without it, because i _do_ want to do a little more for him who so loves me--just that much more than i could do if i did this other thing.' i fancy this is more often the heart language of those who _have_ to cut and contrive, than of those who are able to give liberally without any cutting and contriving at all. the very abundance of god's good gifts too often hinders from the privilege and delight of really doing without something superfluous or comfortable or usual, that they may give just that much more to their lord. what a pity! the following quotation may (i hope it will), touch some conscience:--'a gentleman once told us that his wine bill was £ a year--more than enough to keep a scripture reader always at work in some populous district. and it is one of the countless advantages of total abstinence that it at once sets free a certain amount of money for such work. smoking, too, is a habit not only injurious to the health in a vast majority of cases, and, to our mind, very unbecoming in a "temple of the holy ghost," but also one which squanders money which might be used for the lord. expenses in dress might in most people be curtailed; expensive tastes should be denied; and simplicity in all habits of life should be a mark of the followers of him who had not where to lay his head.' and again: 'the self-indulgence of wealthy christians, who might largely support the lord's work with what they lavish upon their houses, their tables, or their personal expenditure, is very sad to see.'[footnote: _christian progress_, vol. iii. pp. , .] here the question of jewellery seems to come in. perhaps it was an instance of the gradual showing of the details of consecration, illustrated on page , but i will confess that when i wrote 'take my silver and my gold,' it never dawned on me that anything was included beyond the coin of the realm! but the lord 'leads on softly,' and a good many of us have been shown some capital bits of unenclosed but easily enclosable ground, which have yielded 'pleasant fruit.' yes, _very_ pleasant fruit! it is wonderfully nice to light upon something that we really never thought of as a possible gift to our lord, and just to give it, straight away, to him. i do not press the matter, but i do ask my lady friends to give it fair and candid and prayerful consideration. which do you really care most about--a diamond on your finger, or a star in the redeemer's kingdom, shining for ever and ever? that is what it comes to, and there i leave it. on the other hand, it is very possible to be fairly faithful in much, and yet unfaithful in that which is least. we may have thought about our gold and silver, and yet have been altogether thoughtless about our rubbish! some have a habit of hoarding away old garments, 'pieces,' remnants, and odds and ends generally, under the idea that they 'will come in useful some day;' very likely setting it up as a kind of mild virtue, backed by that noxious old saying, 'keep it by you seven years, and you'll find a use for it.' and so the shabby things get shabbier, and moth and dust doth corrupt, and the drawers and places get choked and crowded; and meanwhile all this that is sheer rubbish to you might be made useful at once, to a degree beyond what you would guess, to some poor person. it would be a nice variety for the clever fingers of a lady's maid to be set to work to do up old things; or some tidy woman may be found in almost every locality who knows how to contrive children's things out of what seems to you only fit for the rag-bag, either for her own little ones or those of her neighbours. my sister trimmed or hats every spring for several years with the contents of friends' rubbish drawers, thus relieving dozens of poor mothers who liked their children to 'go tidy on sunday,' and also keeping down finery in her sunday school. those who literally fulfilled her request for 'rubbish' used to marvel at the results. little scraps of carpet, torn old curtains, faded blinds, and all such gear, go a wonderfully long way towards making poor cottagers and old or sick people comfortable. i never saw anything in this 'rubbish' line yet that could not be turned to good account somehow, with a little _considering_ of the poor and their discomforts. i wish my lady reader would just leave this book now, and go straight up-stairs and have a good rummage at once, and see what can be thus cleared out. if she does not know the right recipients at first hand, let her send it off to the nearest working clergyman's wife, and see how gratefully it will be received! for it is a great trial to workers among the poor not to be able to supply the needs they see. such supplies are far more useful than treble their small money value. just a word of earnest pleading for needs, closely veiled, but very sore, which might be wonderfully lightened if this wardrobe over-hauling were systematic and faithful. there are hundreds of poor clergymen's families to whom a few old garments or any household oddments are as great a charity as to any of the poor under their charge. there are two societies for aiding these with such gifts, under initials which are explained in the reports; the p.p.c. society--secretary, miss breay, battenhall place, worcester; and the a.f.d. society--secretary, miss hinton, york place, clifton. i only ask my lady friends to send for a report to either of these devoted secretaries; and if their hearts are not so touched by the cases of brave and bitter need that they go forthwith to wardrobes and drawers to see what can be spared and sent, they are colder and harder than i give englishwomen credit for. there is no bondage in consecration. the two things are opposites, and cannot co-exist, much less mingle. we should suspect our consecration, and come afresh to our great counsellor about it, directly we have any sense of bondage. as long as we have an unacknowledged feeling of fidget about our account-book, and a smothered wondering what and how much we '_ought_' to give, and a hushed-up wishing the thing had not been put quite so strongly before us, depend upon it we have not said unreservedly, 'take my silver and my gold.' and how can the lord keep what he has not been sincerely asked to take? ah! if we had stood at the foot of the cross, and watched the tremendous payment of our redemption with the precious blood of christ,--if we had seen that awful price told out, drop by drop, from his own dear patient brow and torn hands and feet, till it was all paid, and the central word of eternity was uttered, '_it is finished!_' should we not have been ready to say, '_not a mite will i withhold!_' my jewels. 'shall i hold them back--my jewels? time has travelled many a day since i laid them by for ever, safely locking them away; and i thought them yielded wholly. when i dared no longer wear gems contrasting, oh, so sadly! with the adorning i would bear. 'shall i keep them still--my jewels? shall i, can i yet withhold from that living, loving saviour aught of silver or of gold? gold so needed, that his gospel may resound from sea to sea; can i know christ's service lacketh, yet forget his "unto me"! 'no; i lay them down--my jewels, truly on the altar now. stay! i see a vision passing of a gem-encircled brow: heavenly treasure worn by jesus, souls won through my gift outpoured; freely, gladly i will offer jewels thus to crown my lord!' from _woman's work._ chapter viii. our intellects kept for jesus. _'keep my intellect, and use_ _every power as thou shalt choose.'_ there are two distinct sets of temptations which assail those who have, or think they have, rather less, and those who have, or think they have, rather more than an average share of intellect; while those who have neither less nor more are generally open in some degree to both. the refuge and very present help from both is the same. the intellect, whether great or small, which is committed to the lord's keeping, will be kept and will be used by him. the former class are tempted to think themselves excused from effort to cultivate and use their small intellectual gifts; to suppose they cannot or need not seek to win souls, because they are not so clever and apt in speech as so-and-so; to attribute to want of gift what is really want of grace; to hide the one talent because it is not five. let me throw out a thought or two for these. which is greatest, gifts or grace? _gifts_ are given 'to every man according to his several ability.' that is, we have just as much given as god knows we are able to use, and what he knows we can best use for him. 'but unto every one of us is given _grace_ according to the measure of the gift of christ.' claiming and using that royal measure of grace, you may, and can, and will do more for god than the mightiest intellect in the world without it. for which, in the clear light of his word, is likely to be most effectual, the natural ability which at its best and fullest, without christ, 'can do _nothing_' (observe and believe that word!), or the grace of our almighty god and the power of the holy ghost, which is as free to you as it ever was to any one? if you are responsible for making use of your limited gift, are you not equally responsible for making use of the grace and power which are to be had for the asking, which are already yours in christ, and which are not limited? also, do you not see that when there are great natural gifts, people give the credit to _them_, instead of to the grace which alone did the real work, and thus god is defrauded of the glory? so that, to say it reverently, god can get more glory out of a feeble instrument, because then it is more obvious that the excellency of the power is of god and not of us. will you not henceforth say, 'most gladly, therefore, will i rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of christ may rest upon me'? don't you really believe that the holy spirit is just as able to draw a soul to jesus, if he will, by your whisper of the one word, '_come_,' as by an eloquent sermon an hour long? _i_ do! at the same time, as it is evidently god's way to work through these intellects of ours, we have no more right to expect him to use a mind which we are wilfully neglecting, and taking no pains whatever to fit for his use, than i should have to expect you to write a beautiful inscription with my pen, if i would not take the trouble to wipe it and mend it. the latter class are tempted to rely on their natural gifts, and to act and speak in their own strength; to go on too fast, without really looking up at every step, and for every word; to spend their lord's time in polishing up their intellects, nominally for the sake of influence and power, and so forth, while really, down at the bottom, it is for the sake of the keen enjoyment of the process; and perhaps, most of all, to spend the strength of these intellects 'for that which doth not profit,' in yielding to the specious snare of reading clever books 'on both sides,' and eating deliberately of the tree of the knowledge of good _and evil_. the mere mention of these temptations should be sufficient appeal to conscience. if consecration is to be a reality anywhere, should it not be in the very thing which you own as an extra gift from god, and which is evidently closest, so to speak, to his direct action, spirit upon spirit? and if the very strength of your intellect has been your weakness, will you not entreat him to keep it henceforth really and entirely for himself? it is so good of him to have given you something to lay at his feet; shall not this goodness lead you to lay it _all_ there, and never hanker after taking it back for yourself or the world? do you not feel that in very proportion to the gift you need the special keeping of it? he may lead you by a way you know not in the matter; very likely he will show you that you must be willing to be a fool for his sake first, before he will condescend to use you much for his glory. will you look up into his face and say, '_not_ willing'? he who made every power can use every power--memory, judgment, imagination, quickness of apprehension or insight; specialties of musical, poetical, oratorical, or artistic faculty; special tastes for reasoning, philosophy, history, natural science, or natural history,--all these may be dedicated to him, sanctified by him, and used by him. whatever he has given, he will use, if we will let him. often, in the most unexpected ways, and at the most unexpected turns, something read or acquired long ago suddenly comes into use. we cannot foresee what will thus 'come in useful'; but he knew, when he guided us to learn it, what it would be wanted for in his service. so may we not ask him to bring his perfect foreknowledge to bear on all our mental training and storing? to guide us to read or study exactly what he knows there will be use for in the work to which he has called or will call us? nothing is more practically perplexing to a young christian, whose preparation time is not quite over, or perhaps painfully limited, than to know what is most worth studying, what is really the best investment of the golden hours, while yet the time is not come for the field of active work to be fully entered, and the 'thoroughly furnishing' of the mind is the evident path of present duty. is not his name called 'counsellor'? and will he not be faithful to the promise of his name in this, as well as in all else? the same applies to every subsequent stage. only let us be perfectly clear about the principle that our intellect is not our own, either to cultivate, or to use, or to enjoy, and that jesus christ is our real and ever-present counsellor, and then there will be no more worry about what to read and how much to read, and whether to keep up one's accomplishments, or one's languages, or one's '_ologies'!_ if the master has need of them, he will show us; and if he has not, what need have we of them? if we go forward without his leading, we may throw away some talent, or let it get too rusty for use, which would have been most valuable when other circumstances arose or different work was given. we must not think that 'keeping' means not using at all! what we want is to have all our powers kept for his _use_. in this they will probably find far higher development than in any other sort of use. i know cases in which the effect of real consecration on mere mental development has been obvious and surprising to all around. yet it is only a confirmation of what i believe to be a great principle, viz. that _the lord makes the most of whatever is unreservedly surrendered to him_. there will always be plenty of waste in what we try to cut out for ourselves. but he wastes no material! chapter ix. our wills kept for jesus. _'keep my will, oh, keep it thine,_ _for it is no longer mine.'_ perhaps there is no point in which expectation has been so limited by experience as this. we believe god is able to do for us just so much as he has already done, and no more. we take it for granted a line must be drawn somewhere; and so we choose to draw it where experience ends, and faith would have to begin. even if we have trusted and proved him as to keeping our members and our minds, faith fails when we would go deeper and say, 'keep my will!' and yet the only reason we have to give is, that though we have asked him to take our will, we do not exactly find that it is altogether his, but that self-will crops up again and again. and whatever flaw there might be in this argument, we think the matter is quite settled by the fact that some whom we rightly esteem, and who are far better than ourselves, have the same experience, and do not even seem to think it right to hope for anything better. that is conclusive! and the result of this, as of every other faithless conclusion, is either discouragement and depression, or, still worse, acquiescence in an unyielded will, as something that can't be helped. now let us turn from our thoughts to god's thoughts. verily, they are not as ours! he says he is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think. apply this here. we ask him to take our wills and make them his. does he or does he not mean what he says? and if he does, should we not trust him to do this thing that we have asked and longed for, and not less but more? 'is _anything_ too hard for the lord?' 'hath he said, and shall he not do it?' and if he gives us faith to believe that we have the petition that we desired of him, and with it the unspeakable rest of leaning our will wholly upon his love, what ground have we for imagining that this is _necessarily_ to be a mere fleeting shadow, which is hardly to last an hour, but is _necessarily_ to be exhausted ere the next breath of trial or temptation comes? does he mock our longing by acting as i have seen an older person act to a child, by accepting some trifling gift of no intrinsic value, just to please the little one, and then throwing it away as soon as the child's attention is diverted? is not the taking rather the pledge of the keeping, if we will but entrust him fearlessly with it? we give him no opportunity, so to speak, of proving his faithfulness to this great promise, because we _will_ not fulfil the condition of reception, believing it. but we readily enough believe instead all that we hear of the unsatisfactory experience of others! or, start from another word. job said, 'i know that thou canst do everything,' and we turn round and say, 'oh yes, everything _except_ keeping my will!' dare we add, 'and i know that thou canst not do that'? yet that is what is said every day, only in other words; and if not said aloud, it is said in faithless hearts, and god hears it. what _does_ 'almighty' mean, if it does not mean, as we teach our little children, 'able to do _everything'?_ we have asked this great thing many a time, without, perhaps, realizing how great a petition we were singing, in the old morning hymn, 'guard my first springs of thought and will!' that goes to the root of the matter, only it implies that the will has been already surrendered to him, that it may be wholly kept and guarded. it may be that we have not sufficiently realized the sin of the only alternative. our wills belong either to self or to god. it may seem a small and rather excusable sin in man's sight to be self-willed, but see in what a category of iniquity god puts it! ( pet. ii. ). and certainly we are without excuse when we have such a promise to go upon as, 'it is god that worketh in you both to _will_ and to do of his pleasure.' how splendidly this meets our very deepest helplessness,--'worketh in you to _will!_' oh, let us pray for ourselves and for each other, that we may know 'what is the exceeding greatness of his power to usward who believe.' it does not say, 'to usward who fear and doubt;' for if we will not believe, neither shall we be established. if we will not believe what god says he can do, we shall see it with our eyes, but we shall not eat thereof. 'they _could_ not enter in because of unbelief.' it is most comforting to remember that the grand promise, 'thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power,' is made by the father to christ himself. the lord jesus holds this promise, and god will fulfil it to him. he will make us willing because he has promised jesus that he will do so. and what is being made willing, but having our will taken and kept? all true surrender of the will is based upon love and knowledge of, and confidence in, the one to whom it is surrendered. we have the human analogy so often before our eyes, that it is the more strange we should be so slow to own even the possibility of it as to god. is it thought anything so very extraordinary and high-flown, when a bride deliberately _prefers_ wearing a colour which was not her own taste or choice, because her husband likes to see her in it? is it very unnatural that it is no distress to her to do what he asks her to do, or to go with him where he asks her to come, even without question or explanation, instead of doing what or going where she would undoubtedly have preferred if she did not know and love him? is it very surprising if this lasts beyond the wedding day, and if year after year she still finds it her greatest pleasure to please him, quite irrespective of what _used_ to be her own ways and likings? yet in this case she is not helped by any promise or power on his part to make her wish what he wishes. but he who so wonderfully condescends to call himself the bridegroom of his church, and who claims our fullest love and trust, has promised and has power to work in us to will. shall we not claim his promise and rely on his mighty power, and say, not self-confidently, but looking only unto jesus-- 'keep my will, for it is thine; it shall be no longer mine!' only in proportion as our own will is surrendered, are we able to discern the splendour of god's will. for oh! it is a splendour, a glow of majesty, a mystery of beauty if we will only see; a very cloud of glory enfolding you and me. a splendour that is lighted at one transcendent flame, the wondrous love, the perfect love, our father's sweetest name; for his name and very essence and his will are all the same! conversely, in proportion as we see this splendour of his will, we shall more readily or more fully surrender our own. not until we have presented our bodies a living sacrifice can we prove what is that good, and perfect, and acceptable will of god. but in thus proving it, this continual presentation will be more and more seen to be our reasonable service, and becomes more and more a joyful sacrifice of praise. the connection in romans xii. , , between our sacrifice which he so graciously calls acceptable to himself, and our finding out that his will is acceptable to ourselves, is very striking. one reason for this connection may be that only love can really understand love, and love on both sides is at the bottom of the whole transaction and its results. first, he loves us. then the discovery of this leads us to love him. then, because he loves us, he claims us, and desires to have us wholly yielded to his will, so that the operations of love in and for us may find no hindrance. then, because we love him we recognise his claim and yield ourselves. then, being thus yielded, he draws us nearer to him,[footnote: 'now ye _have_ consecrated yourselves unto the lord, come _near_' ( chron. xxix. ).] and admits us, so to speak, into closer intimacy, so that we gain nearer and truer views of his perfections. then the unity of these perfections becomes clearer to us. now we not only see his justice and mercy flowing in an undivided stream from the cross of christ, but we see that they never were divided, though the strange distortions of the dark, false glass of sin made them appear so, but that both are but emanations of god's holy love. then having known and believed this holy love, we see further that his will is not a separate thing, but only love (and therefore all his attributes) in action; love being the primary essence of his being, and all the other attributes manifestations and combinations of that ineffable essence, for god _is_ love. then this will of god which has seemed in old far-off days a stern and fateful power, is seen to be only love energized; love saying, 'i will.' and when once we really grasp this (hardly so much by faith as by love itself), the will of god cannot be otherwise than acceptable, for it is no longer a question of trusting that somehow or other there is a hidden element of love in it, but of understanding that it _is_ love; no more to be dissociated from it than the power of the sun's rays can be dissociated from their light and warmth. and love recognised must surely be love accepted and reciprocated. so, as the fancied sternness of god's will is lost in his love, the stubbornness of our will becomes melted in that love, and lost in our acceptance of it. 'take thine own way with me, dear lord, thou canst not otherwise than bless; i launch me forth upon a sea of boundless love and tenderness. 'i could not choose a larger bliss than to be wholly thine; and mine a will whose highest joy is this, to ceaselessly unclasp in thine. 'i will not fear thee, o my god! the days to come can only bring their perfect sequences of love, thy larger, deeper comforting. 'within the shadow of this love, loss doth transmute itself to gain; faith veils earth's sorrows in its light, and straightway lives above her pain. 'we are not losers thus; we share the perfect gladness of the son, not conquered--for, behold, we reign; conquered and conqueror are one. 'thy wonderful grand will, my god! triumphantly i make it mine; and faith shall breathe her glad "amen" to every dear command of thine. 'beneath the splendour of thy choice, thy perfect choice for me, i rest; outside it now i dare not live, within it i must needs be blest. 'meanwhile my spirit anchors calm in grander regions still than this; the fair, far-shining latitudes of that yet unexplorèd bliss. 'then may thy perfect, glorious will be evermore fulfilled in me, and make my life an answ'ring chord of glad, responsive harmony. 'oh! it is life indeed to live within this kingdom strangely sweet, and yet we fear to enter in, and linger with unwilling feet. 'we fear this wondrous rule of thine, because we have not reached thy heart; not venturing our all on thee, we may not know how good thou art.' jean sophia pigott. chapter x. our hearts kept for jesus. _'keep my heart; it is thine own;_ _it is now thy royal throne.'_ 'it is a good thing that the heart be established with grace,' and yet some of us go on as if it were not a good thing even to hope for it to be so. we should be ashamed to say that we had behaved treacherously to a friend; that we had played him false again and again; that we had said scores of times what we did not really mean; that we had professed and promised what, all the while, we had no sort of purpose of performing. we should be ready to go off by next ship to new zealand rather than calmly own to all this, or rather than ever face our friends again after we had owned it. and yet we are not ashamed (some of us) to say that we are always dealing treacherously with our lord; nay, more, we own it with an inexplicable complacency, as if there were a kind of virtue in saying how fickle and faithless and desperately wicked our hearts are; and we actually plume ourselves on the easy confession, which we think proves our humility, and which does not lower us in the eyes of others, nor in our own eyes, half so much as if we had to say, 'i have told a story,' or, 'i have broken my promise.' nay, more, we have not the slightest hope, and therefore not the smallest intention of aiming at an utterly different state of things. well for us if we do not go a step farther, and call those by hard and false names who do seek to have an established heart, and who believe that as the lord meant what he said when he promised, '_no_ good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly,' so he will not withhold _this_ good thing. prayer must be based upon promise, but, thank god, his promises are always broader than our prayers. no fear of building inverted pyramids here, for jesus christ is the foundation, and this and all the other 'promises of god in him are yea, and in him amen, unto the glory of god by us.' so it shall be unto his glory to fulfil this one to us, and to answer our prayer for a 'kept' or 'established' heart. and its fulfilment shall work out his glory, not in spite of us, but '_by_ us.' we find both the means and the result of the keeping in the th psalm: 'his heart is fixed.' whose heart? an angel? a saint in glory? no! simply the heart of the man that feareth the lord, and delighteth greatly in his commandments. therefore yours and mine, as god would have them be; just the normal idea of a god-fearing heart, nothing extremely and hopelessly beyond attainment. 'fixed.' how does that tally with the deceitfulness and waywardness and fickleness about which we really talk as if we were rather proud of them than utterly ashamed of them? does our heavenly bridegroom expect nothing more of us? does his mighty, all-constraining love intend to do no more for us than to leave us in this deplorable state, when he is undoubtedly able to heal the desperately wicked heart (compare verses and of jeremiah xvii.), to rule the wayward one with his peace, and to establish the fickle one with his grace? are we not 'without excuse'? 'fixed, trusting in the lord.' here is the means of the fixing--trust. he works the trust in us by sending the holy spirit to reveal god in christ to us as absolutely, infinitely worthy of our trust. when we 'see jesus' by spirit-wrought faith, we cannot but trust him; we distrust our hearts more truly than ever before, but we trust our lord entirely, because we trust him _only_. for, entrusting our trust to him, we know that he is able to keep that which we commit (_i. e._ entrust) to him. it is his own way of winning and fixing our hearts for himself. is it not a beautiful one? thus 'his heart is established.' but we have not quite faith enough to believe that. so what is the very first doubting, and therefore sad thought that crops up? 'yes, but i am _afraid_ it will not remain fixed.' that is _your_ thought. now see what is god's thought about the case. 'his heart is established, he shall not be afraid.' is not that enough? what _is_, if such plain and yet divine words are not? well, the gracious one bears with us, and gives line upon line to his poor little children. and so he says, 'the peace of god, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds, through christ jesus.' and again, 'thy thoughts shall be established.' and again, 'thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.' and to prove to us that these promises can be realized in present experience, he sends down to us through nearly years the words of the man who prayed, 'create in me a clean heart, o god,' and lets us hear twice over the new song put by the same holy spirit into his mouth: 'my heart is fixed, o god, my heart is fixed' (ps. lvii. , cviii. ). the heart that is established in christ is also established for christ. it becomes his royal throne, no longer occupied by his foe, no longer tottering and unstable. and then we see the beauty and preciousness of the promise, 'he shall be a priest upon his throne.' not only reigning, but atoning. not only ruling, but cleansing. thus the throne is established 'in mercy,' but 'by righteousness.' i think we lose ground sometimes by parleying with the tempter. we have no business to parley with an usurper. the throne is no longer his when we have surrendered it to our lord jesus. and why should we allow him to argue with us for one instant, as if it were still an open question? don't listen; simply tell him that jesus christ _is_ on the long-disputed throne, and no more about it, but turn at once to your king and claim the glorious protection of his sovereignty over you. it is a splendid reality, and you will find it so. he will not abdicate and leave you kingless and defenceless. for verily, 'the lord _is_ our king; he will save us' (isa. xxxiii. ). _our hearts are naturally_-- _god can make them_-- evil, heb. iii. . clean, ps. li. . desperately wicked, jer. xvii. . good, luke viii. . weak, ezek. xvi. . fixed, ps. cxii. . deceitful, jer. xvii. . faithful, neh. ix. . deceived, isa. xliv. . understanding, kings iii. . double, ps. xii. . honest, luke viii. . impenitent, rom. ii. . contrite, ps. li. . rebellious, jer. v. . true, heb. x. . hard, ezek. iii. . soft, job xxiii. . stony, ezek. xi. . new, ezek. xviii. . froward, prov. xvii. . sound, ps. cxix. . despiteful, ezek. xxv. . glad, ps. xvi. . stout, isa. x. . established, ps. cxii. . haughty, prov. xviii. . tender, ephes. iv. . proud, prov. xxi. . pure, matt. v. . perverse, prov. xii. . perfect, chron. xxix. . foolish, rom. i. . wise, prov. xi. . chapter xi. our love kept for jesus. _'keep my love; my lord, i pour_ _at thy feet its treasure-store.'_ not as a mere echo from the morning-gilded shore of tiberias, but as an ever new, ever sounding note of divinest power, come the familiar words to each of us, 'lovest thou me?' he says it who has loved us with an everlasting love. he says it who has died for us. he says it who has washed us from our sins in his own blood. he says it who has waited for our love, waited patiently all through our coldness. and if by his grace we have said, 'take my love,' which of us has not felt that part of his very answer has been to make us see how little there was to take, and how little of that little has been kept for him? and yet we _do_ love him! he knows that! the very mourning and longing to love him more proves it. but we want more than that, and so does our lord. he has created us to love. we have a sealed treasure of love, which either remains sealed, and then gradually dries up and wastes away, or is unsealed and poured out, and yet is the fuller and not the emptier for the outpouring. the more love we give, the more we have to give. so far it is only natural. but when the holy spirit reveals the love of christ, and sheds abroad the love of god in our hearts, this natural love is penetrated with a new principle as it discovers a new object. everything that it beholds in that object gives it new depth and new colours. as it sees the holiness, the beauty, and the glory, it takes the deep hues of conscious sinfulness, unworthiness, and nothingness. as it sees even a glimpse of the love that passeth knowledge, it takes the glow of wonder and gratitude. and when it sees that love drawing close to its deepest need with blood-purchased pardon, it is intensified and stirred, and there is no more time for weighing and measuring; we must pour it out, all there is of it, with our tears, at the feet that were pierced for love of us. and what then? has the flow grown gradually slower and shallower? has our lord reason to say, 'my brethren have dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as a stream of brooks they pass away'? it is humiliating to have found that we could not keep on loving him, as we loved in that remembered hour when 'thy time was the time of love.' we have proved that we were not able. let this be only the stepping-stone to proving that he is able! there will have been a cause, as we shall see if we seek it honestly. it was not that we really poured out all our treasure, and so it naturally came to an end. we let it be secretly diverted into other channels. we began keeping back a little part of the price for something else. we looked away from, instead of looking away unto jesus. we did not entrust him with our love, and ask him to keep it for himself. and what has he to say to us? ah, he upbraideth not. listen! 'thus saith the lord, i remember thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espousals.' can any words be more tender, more touching, to you, to me? forgetting all the sin, all the backsliding, all the coldness, casting all that into the unreturning depths of the sea, he says he remembers that hour when we first said, 'take my love.' he remembers it now, at this minute. he has written it for ever on his infinite memory, where the past is as the present. his own love is unchangeable, so it could never be his wish or will that we should thus drift away from him. oh, 'come and let us return unto the lord!' but is there any hope that, thus returning, our flickering love may be kept from again failing? hear what he says: 'and i will betroth thee unto me for ever' and again: 'thou _shalt_ abide _for me_ many days; so will i also be for thee.' shall we trust his word or not? is it worthy of our acceptation or not? oh, rest on this word of the king, and let him from this day have the keeping of your love, and he will keep it! the love of christ is not an absorbing, but a radiating love. the more we love him, the more we shall most certainly love others. some have not much natural power of loving, but the love of christ will strengthen it. some have had the springs of love dried up by some terrible earthquake. they will find 'fresh springs' in jesus, and the gentle flow will be purer and deeper than the old torrent could ever be. some have been satisfied that it should rush in a narrow channel, but he will cause it to overflow into many another, and widen its course of blessing. some have spent it all on their god-given dear ones. now he is come whose right it is; and yet in the fullest resumption of that right, he is so gracious that he puts back an even larger measure of the old love into our hand, sanctified with his own love, and energized with his blessing, and strengthened with his new commandment, 'that ye love one another, as i have loved you.' in that always very interesting part, called a 'corner for difficulties,' of that always very interesting magazine, _woman's work_, the question has been discussed, 'when does love become idolatry? is it the experience of christians that the coming in of a new object of affection interferes with entire consecration to god?' i should like to quote the many excellent answers in full, but must only refer my readers to the number for march . one replies: 'it seems to me that he who is love would not give us an object for our love unless he saw that our hearts needed expansion; and if the love is consecrated, and the friendship takes its stand in christ, there is no need for the fear that it will become idolatry. let the love on both sides _be given to god to keep_, and however much it may grow, the source from which it springs must yet be greater.' perhaps i may be pardoned for giving, at the same writer's suggestion, a quotation from _under the surface_ on this subject. eleanor says to beatrice:-- 'i tremble when i think how much i love him; but i turn away from thinking of it, just to love him more;-- indeed, i fear, too much.' 'dear eleanor, do you love him as much as christ loves us? let your lips answer me.' 'why ask me, dear? our hearts are finite, christ is infinite.' 'then, till you reach the standard of that love, let neither fears nor well-meant warning voice distress you with "too much." for he hath said _how_ much--and who shall dare to change his measure? "_that ye should love as i have loved you._" o sweet command, that goes so far beyond the mightiest impulse of the tenderest heart! a bare permission had been much; but he who knows our yearnings and our fearfulness, chose graciously to _bid_ us do the thing that makes our earthly happiness, a limit that we need not fear to pass, because we cannot. oh, the breadth and length, and depth and height of love that passeth knowledge! yet jesus said, "as i have loved you."' 'o beatrice, i long to feel the sunshine that this should bring; but there are other words which fall in chill eclipse. 'tis written, "keep yourselves from idols." how shall i obey?' 'oh, not by loving less, but loving more. it is not that we love our precious ones too much, but god too little. as the lamp a miner bears upon his shadowed brow is only dazzling in the grimy dark, and has no glare against the summer sky, so, set the tiny torch of our best love in the great sunshine of the love of god, and, though full fed and fanned, it casts no shade and dazzles not, o'erflowed with mightier light.' there is no love so deep and wide as that which is kept for jesus. it flows both fuller and farther when it flows only through him. then, too, it will be a power for him. it will always be unconsciously working for him. in drawing others to ourselves by it, we shall be necessarily drawing them nearer to the fountain of our love, never drawing them away from it. it is the great magnet of his love which alone can draw any heart to him; but when our own are thoroughly yielded to its mighty influence, they will be so magnetized that he will condescend to use them in this way. is it not wonderful to think that the lord jesus will not only accept and keep, but actually _use_ our love? 'of thine own have we given thee,' for 'we love him because he first loved us.' set apart to love him, and his love to know; not to waste affection on a passing show; called to give him life and heart, called to pour the hidden treasure, that none other claims to measure, into his belovèd hand! thrice blessèd 'set apart'! chapter xii. our selves kept for jesus. _'keep my self, that i may be_ _ever, only, all for thee.'_ 'for thee!' that is the beginning and the end of the whole matter of consecration. there was a prelude to its 'endless song,'--a prelude whose theme is woven into every following harmony in the new anthem of consecrated life: 'the son of god, who loved me, and gave himself _for me_.' out of the realized 'for me,' grows the practical 'for thee!' if the former is a living root, the latter will be its living fruit. 'for _thee!_' this makes the difference between forced or formal, and therefore unreasonable service, and the 'reasonable service' which is the beginning of the perfect service where they see his face. this makes the difference between slave work and free work. for thee, my redeemer; for thee who hast spoken to my heart; for thee, who hast done for me--_what?_ let us each pause, and fill up that blank with the great things the lord hath done for us. for thee, who art to me--_what?_ fill that up too, before him! for thee, my saviour jesus, my lord and my god! and what is to be for him? my self. we talk sometimes as if, whatever else could be subdued unto him, self could never be. did st. paul forget to mention this important exception to the 'all things' in phil. iii. ? david said: 'bless the lord, o my soul, _and all that is within me_, bless his holy name.' did he, too, unaccountably forget to mention that he only meant all that was within him, _except_ self? if not, then self must be among the 'all things' which the lord jesus christ is able to subdue unto himself, and which are to 'bless his holy name.' it is self which, once his most treacherous foe, is now, by full and glad surrender, his own soldier--coming over from the rebel camp into the royal army. it is not some one else, some temporarily possessing spirit, which says within us, 'lord, thou knowest that i love thee,' but our true and very self, only changed and renewed by the power of the holy ghost. and when we do that we would not, we know that 'it is no more _i_ that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me.' our true self is the new self, taken and won by the love of god, and kept by the power of god. yes, '_kept!_' there is the promise on which we ground our prayer; or, rather, one of the promises. for, search and look for your own strengthening and comfort, and you will find it repeated in every part of the bible, from 'i am with thee, and will keep thee,' in genesis, to 'i also will keep thee from the hour of temptation,' in revelation. and kept _for him!_ why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, when it is only the fulfilling of his own eternal purpose in creating us? 'this people have i formed _for myself._' not ultimately only, but presently and continually; for he says, 'thou shalt abide _for me;_' and, 'he that remaineth, even he shall be _for our god_.' are you one of his people by faith in jesus christ? then see what you are to him. you, personally and individually, are part of the lord's portion (deut. xxxii. ) and of his inheritance ( kings viii. , and eph. i. ). his portion and inheritance would not be complete without you; you are his peculiar treasure (ex. xix. ); 'a _special_ people' (how warm, and loving, and natural that expression is!) '_unto himself_' (deut. vii. ). would you call it 'keeping,' if you had a 'special' treasure, a darling little child, for instance, and let it run wild into all sorts of dangers all day long, sometimes at your side, and sometimes out in the street, with only the intention of fetching it safe home at night? if ye then, being evil, would know better, and do better, than that, how much more shall our lord's keeping be true, and tender, and continual, and effectual, when he declares us to be his peculiar treasure, purchased (see pet. ii. , margin) for himself at such unknown cost! he will keep what thus he sought, safely guard the dearly bought; cherish that which he did choose, always love and never lose. i know what some of us are thinking. 'yes; i see it all plainly enough in theory, but in practice i find i am not kept. self goes over to the other camp again and again. if is not all for jesus, though i have asked and wished for it to be so.' dear friends, the 'all' must be sealed with 'only.' are you willing to be '_only_' for jesus? you have not given 'all' to jesus while you are not quite ready to be '_only_' for him. and it is no use to talk about 'ever' while we have not settled the 'only' and the 'all.' you cannot be 'for him,' in the full and blessed sense, while you are partly 'for' anything or any one else. for 'the lord hath _set apart_ him that is godly for himself.' you see, the 'for himself' hinges upon the 'set apart.' there is no consecration without separation. if you are mourning over want of realized consecration, will you look humbly and sincerely into _this_ point? 'a garden _enclosed_ is my sister, my spouse,' saith the heavenly bridegroom. set apart for jesus! is not this enough, though the desert prospect open wild and rough? set apart for his delight, chosen for his holy pleasure, sealed to be his special treasure! could we choose a nobler joy?--and would we, if we might?[footnote: _loyal responses_, p. .] but yielding, by his grace, to this blessed setting apart for himself, 'the lord shall _establish_ thee an holy people unto himself, as he hath sworn unto thee.' can there be a stronger promise? just obey and trust his word _now_, and yield yourselves _now_ unto god, 'that he may establish thee _to-day_ for a people unto himself.' commit the keeping of your souls to him in well-doing, as unto a faithful creator, being persuaded that he is able to keep that which you commit to him. now, lord, i give myself to thee, i would be wholly thine, as thou hast given thyself to me, and thou art wholly mine; o take me, seal me for thine own, thine altogether, thine alone. here comes in once more that immeasurably important subject of our influence. for it is not what we say or do, so much as what we _are_, that influences others. we have heard this, and very likely repeated it again and again, but have we seen it to be inevitably linked with the great question of this chapter? i do not know anything which, thoughtfully considered, makes us realize more vividly the need and the importance of our whole selves being kept for jesus. any part not wholly committed, and not wholly kept, must hinder and neutralize the real influence for him of all the rest. if we ourselves are kept all for jesus, then our influence will be all kept for him too. if not, then, however much we may wish and talk and try, we cannot throw our full weight into the right scale. and just in so far as it is not in the one scale, it must be in the other; weighing against the little which we have tried to put in the right one, and making the short weight still shorter. so large a proportion of it is entirely involuntary, while yet the responsibility of it is so enormous, that our helplessness comes out in exceptionally strong relief, while our past debt in this matter is simply incalculable. are we feeling this a little? getting just a glimpse, down the misty defiles of memory, of the neutral influence, the wasted influence, the mistaken influence, the actually wrong influence which has marked the ineffaceable although untraceable course? and all the while we owed him all that influence! it _ought_ to have been all for him! we have nothing to say. but what has our lord to say? 'i forgave thee all _that_ debt!' then, after that forgiveness which must come first, there comes a thought of great comfort in our freshly felt helplessness, rising out of the very thing that makes us realize this helplessness. just _because_ our influence is to such a great extent involuntary and unconscious, we may rest assured that if we ourselves are truly kept for jesus, this will be, as a quite natural result, kept for him also. it cannot be otherwise, for as is the fountain, so will be the flow; as the spring, so the action; as the impulse, so the communicated motion. thus there may be, and in simple trust there will be, a quiet rest about it, a relief from all sense of strain and effort, a fulfilling of the words, 'for he that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works, as god did from his.' it will not be a matter of _trying_ to have good influence, but just of _having_ it, as naturally and constantly as the magnetized bar. another encouraging thought should follow. of ourselves we may have but little weight, no particular talents or position or anything else to put into the scale; but let us remember that again and again god has shown that the influence of a very average life, when once really consecrated to him, may outweigh that of almost any number of merely professing christians. such lives are like gideon's three hundred, carrying not even the ordinary weapons of war, but only trumpets and lamps and empty pitchers, by whom the lord wrought great deliverance, while he did not use the others at all. for he hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty. should not all this be additional motive for desiring that our _whole_ selves should be taken and kept? i know that whatsoever god doeth, it shall be for ever. therefore we may rejoicingly say 'ever' as well as 'only' and 'all for thee!' for the lord is our keeper, and he is the almighty and the everlasting god, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. he will never change his mind about keeping us, and no man is able to pluck us out of his hand. neither will christ let us pluck ourselves out of his hand, for he says, 'thou _shalt_ abide for me many days.' and he that keepeth us will not slumber. once having undertaken his vineyard, he will keep it night and day, till all the days and nights are over, and we know the full meaning of the salvation ready to be revealed in the last time, unto which we are kept by his power. and then, for ever for him! passing from the gracious keeping by faith for this little while, to the glorious keeping in his presence for all eternity! for ever fulfilling the object for which he formed us and chose us, we showing forth his praise, and he showing the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness towards us in the ages to come! _he for us, and we for him for ever!_ oh, how little we can grasp this! yet this is the fruition of being 'kept for jesus!' set apart for ever for himself alone! now we see our calling gloriously shown. owning, with no secret dread, this our holy separation, now the crown of consecration[footnote: num. vi. .] of the lord our god shall rest upon our willing head. chapter xiii. christ for us. _'so will i also be for thee._'--hos. iii. . the typical promise, 'thou shalt abide for me many days,' is indeed a marvel of love. for it is given to the most undeserving, described under the strongest possible figure of utter worthlessness and treacherousness,--the woman beloved, yet an adulteress. the depth of the abyss shows the length of the line that has fathomed it, yet only the length of the line reveals the real depth of the abyss. the sin shows the love, and the love reveals the sin. the bible has few words more touching, though seldom quoted, than those just preceding this wonderful promise: 'the love of the lord toward the children of israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine.' put that into the personal application which no doubt underlies it, and say, 'the love of the lord toward _me_, who have looked away from him, with wandering, faithless eyes, to other helps and hopes, and have loved earthly joys and sought earthly gratifications,--the love of the lord toward even me!' and then hear him saying in the next verse, 'so i bought her to me;' stooping to do _that_ in his unspeakable condescension of love, not with the typical silver and barley, but with the precious blood of christ. then, having thus loved us, and rescued us, and bought us with a price indeed, he says, still under the same figure, 'thou shalt abide for me many days.' this is both a command and a pledge. but the very pledge implies our past unfaithfulness, and the proved need of even our own part being undertaken by the ever patient lord. he himself has to guarantee our faithfulness, because there is no other hope of our continuing faithful. well may such love win our full and glad surrender, and such a promise win our happy and confident trust! but he says more. he says, 'so will i also be for thee!' and this seems an even greater marvel of love, as we observe how he meets every detail of our consecration with this wonderful word.[footnote: the remainder of this chapter is printed in a little penny book, entitled, _i also for thee_, by f. r. h., published by caswell, birmingham, and by nisbet & co.] . _his life_ 'for thee!' 'the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.' oh, wonderful gift! not promised, but _given_; not to friends, but to enemies. given without condition, without reserve, without return. himself unknown and unloved, his gift unsought and unasked, he gave his life for thee; a more than royal bounty--the greatest gift that deity could devise. oh, grandeur of love! 'i lay down my life for the sheep!' and we for whom he gave it have held back, and hesitated to give our lives, not even _for_ him (he has not asked us to do that), but _to_ him! but that is past, and he has tenderly pardoned the unloving, ungrateful reserve, and has graciously accepted the poor little fleeting breath and speck of dust which was all we had to offer. and now his precious death and his glorious life are all 'for thee.' . _his eternity_ 'for thee.' all we can ask him to take are days and moments--the little span given us as it is given, and of this only the present in deed and the future in will. as for the past, in so far as we did not give it to him, it is too late; we can never give it now! but his past was given to us, though ours was not given to him. oh, what a tremendous debt does this show us! away back in the dim depths of past eternity, 'or ever the earth and the world were made,' his divine existence in the bosom of his father was all 'for thee,' purposing and planning 'for thee,' receiving and holding the promise of eternal life 'for thee.' then the thirty-three years among sinners on this sinful earth: do we think enough of the slowly-wearing days and nights, the heavy-footed hours, the never-hastening minutes, that went to make up those thirty-three years of trial and humiliation? we all know how slowly time passes when suffering and sorrow are near, and there is no reason to suppose that our master was exempted from this part of our infirmities. then his present is 'for thee.' even now he 'liveth to make intercession;' even now he 'thinketh upon me;' even now he 'knoweth,' he 'careth,' he 'loveth.' then, only to think that his whole eternity will be 'for thee!' millions of ages of unfoldings of all his love, and of ever new declarings of his father's name to his brethren. think of it! and can we ever hesitate to give _all_ our poor little hours to his service? . _his hands_ 'for thee.' literal hands; literally pierced, when the whole weight of his quivering frame hung from their torn muscles and bared nerves; literally uplifted in parting blessing. consecrated, priestly hands; 'filled' hands (ex. xxviii. , xxix. , etc., margin)--filled once with his great offering, and now with gifts and blessings 'for thee.' tender hands, touching and healing, lifting and leading with gentlest care. strong hands, upholding and defending. open hands, filling with good and satisfying desire (ps. civ. , and cxlv. ). faithful hands, restraining and sustaining. 'his left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.' . _his feet_ 'for thee.' they were weary very often, they were wounded and bleeding once. they made clear footprints as he went about doing good, and as he went up to jerusalem to suffer; and these 'blessed steps of his most holy life,' both as substitution and example, were 'for thee.' our place of waiting and learning, of resting and loving, is at his feet. and still those 'blessed feet' are and shall be 'for thee,' until he comes again to receive us unto himself, until and when the word is fulfilled, 'they shall walk with me in white.' . _his voice_ 'for thee.' the 'voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, open to me, my sister, my love;' the voice that his sheep 'hear' and 'know,' and that calls out the fervent response, 'master, say on!' this is not all. it was the literal voice of the lord jesus which uttered that one echoless cry of desolation on the cross 'for thee,' and it will be his own literal voice which will say, 'come, ye blessed!' to thee. and that same tender and 'glorious voice' has literally sung and will sing 'for thee.' i think he consecrated song for us, and made it a sweet and sacred thing for ever, when he himself 'sang an hymn,' the very last thing before he went forth to consecrate suffering for us. that was not his last song. 'the lord thy god ... will joy over thee with singing.' and the time is coming when he will not only sing 'for thee' or 'over thee,' but with thee. he says he will! 'in the midst of the church will i sing praise unto thee.' now what a magnificent glimpse of joy this is! 'jesus himself leading the praises of his brethren,'[footnote: see a. newton on the epistle to the hebrews, ch. ii. ver. .] and we ourselves singing not merely in such a chorus, but with such a leader! if 'singing for jesus' is such delight here, what will this 'singing _with_ jesus' be? surely song may well be a holy thing to us henceforth. . _his lips_ 'for thee.' perhaps there is no part of our consecration which it is so difficult practically to realize, and in which it is, therefore, so needful to recollect?--'i also for thee.' it is often helpful to read straight through one or more of the gospels with a special thought on our mind, and see how much bears upon it. when we read one through with this thought--'his _lips_ for me!'--wondering, verse by verse, at the grace which was poured into them, and the gracious words which fell from them, wondering more and more at the cumulative force and infinite wealth of tenderness and power and wisdom and love flowing from them, we cannot but desire that our lips and all the fruit of them should be wholly for him. 'for thee' they were opened in blessing; 'for thee' they were closed when he was led as a lamb to the slaughter. and whether teaching, warning, counsel, comfort, or encouragement, commandments in whose keeping there is a great reward, or promises which exceed all we ask or think--all the precious fruit of his lips is 'for thee,' really and truly _meant_ 'for thee.' . _his wealth_ 'for thee.' 'though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be made rich.' yes, 'through his poverty' the unsearchable riches of christ are 'for thee.' seven-fold riches are mentioned; and these are no unminted treasure or sealed reserve, but all ready coined for our use, and stamped with his own image and superscription, and poured freely into the hand of faith. the mere list is wonderful. 'riches of goodness,' 'riches of forbearance and long-suffering,' 'riches both of wisdom and knowledge,' 'riches of mercy,' 'exceeding riches of grace,' and 'riches of glory.' and his own word says, 'all are yours!' glance on in faith, and think of eternity flowing on and on beyond the mightiest sweep of imagination, and realize that all 'his riches in glory' and 'the riches of his glory' are and shall be 'for thee!' in view of this, shall we care to reserve anything that rust doth corrupt for ourselves? . _his 'treasures of wisdom and knowledge'_ 'for thee.' first, used for our behalf and benefit. why did he expend such immeasurable might of mind upon a world which is to be burnt up, but that he would fit it perfectly to be, not the home, but the school of his children? the infinity of his skill is such that the most powerful intellects find a lifetime too short to penetrate a little way into a few secrets of some one small department of his working. if we turn to providence, it is quite enough to take only one's own life, and look at it microscopically and telescopically, and marvel at the treasures of wisdom lavished upon its details, ordering and shaping and fitting the tiny confused bits into the true mosaic which he means it to be. many a little thing in our lives reveals the same mind which, according to a well-known and very beautiful illustration, adjusted a perfect proportion in the delicate hinges of the snowdrop and the droop of its bell, with the mass of the globe and the force of gravitation. how kind we think it if a very talented friend spends a little of his thought and power of mind in teaching us or planning for us! have we been grateful for the infinite thought and wisdom which our lord has expended upon us and our creation, preservation, and redemption? secondly, to be shared with us. he says, 'all that i have is thine.' he holds nothing back, reserves nothing from his dear children, and what we cannot receive now he is keeping for us. he gives us 'hidden riches of secret places' now, but by and by he will give us more, and the glorified intellect will be filled continually out of his treasures of wisdom and knowledge. but the sanctified intellect will be, must be, used for him, and only for him, now! . _his will_ 'for thee.' think first of the _infinite might_ of that will; the first great law and the first great force of the universe, from which alone every other law and every other force has sprung, and to which all are subordinate. 'he worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.' 'he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth.' then think of the _infinite mysteries_ of that will. for ages and generations the hosts of heaven have wonderingly watched its vouchsafed unveilings and its sublime developments, and still they are waiting, watching, and wondering. creation and providence are but the whisper of its power, but redemption is its music, and praise is the echo which shall yet fill his temple. the whisper and the music, yes, and 'the thunder of his power,' are all 'for thee.' for what _is_ 'the good pleasure of his will'? (eph. i. .) oh, what a grand list of blessings purposed, provided, purchased, and possessed, all flowing to us out of it! and nothing but blessings, nothing but privileges, which we never should have imagined, and which, even when revealed, we are 'slow of heart to believe;' nothing but what should even now fill us 'with joy unspeakable and full of glory!' think of this will as always and altogether on our side--always working for us, and in us, and with us, if we will only let it; think of it as always and only synonymous with infinitely wise and almighty love; think of it as undertaking all for us, from the great work of our eternal salvation down to the momentary details of guidance and supply, and do we not feel utter shame and self-abhorrence at _ever_ having hesitated for an instant to give up our tiny, feeble, blind will, to be--not crushed, not even bent, but _blent_ with his glorious and perfect will? . _his heart_ 'for thee.' 'behold ... he is mighty ... in heart,' said job (job xxxvi. , margin). and this mighty and tender heart is 'for thee!' if he had only stretched forth his hand to save us from bare destruction, and said, 'my hand for thee!' how could we have praised him enough? but what shall we say of the unspeakably marvellous condescension which says, 'thou hast ravished (margin, _taken away_) my heart, my sister, my spouse!' the very fountain of his divine life, and light, and love, the very centre of his being, is given to his beloved ones, who are not only 'set as a seal upon his heart,' but taken into his heart, so that our life is hid there, and we dwell there in the very centre of all safety, and power, and love, and glory. what will be the revelation of 'that day,' when the lord jesus promises, 'ye shall know that i am in my father, and _ye in me'?_ for he implies that we do not yet know it, and that our present knowledge of this dwelling in him is not knowledge at all compared with what he is going to show us about it. now shall we, can we, reserve any corner of our hearts from him? . _his love_ 'for thee.' not a passive, possible love, but outflowing, yes, _outpouring_ of the real, glowing, personal love of his mighty and tender heart. love not as an attribute, a quality, a latent force, but an acting, moving, reaching, touching, and grasping power. love, not a cold, beautiful, far-off star, but a sunshine that comes and enfolds us, making us warm and glad, and strong and bright and fruitful. _his_ love! what manner of love is it? what should be quoted to prove or describe it? first the whole bible with its mysteries and marvels of redemption, then the whole book of providence and the whole volume of creation. then add to these the unknown records of eternity past and the unknown glories of eternity to come, and then let the immeasurable quotation be sung by 'angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven,' with all the harps of god, and still that love will be untold, still it will be 'the love of christ that passeth knowledge.' but it is 'for thee!' . _himself_ 'for thee.' 'christ also hath loved us, and given himself for us.' 'the son of god ... loved me, and gave himself for me.' yes, himself! what is the bride's true and central treasure? what calls forth the deepest, brightest, sweetest thrill of love and praise? not the bridegroom's priceless gifts, not the robe of his resplendent righteousness, not the dowry of unsearchable riches, not the magnificence of the palace home to which he is bringing her, not the glory which she shall share with him, but himself! jesus christ, 'who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree;' 'this same jesus,' 'whom having not seen, ye love;' the son of god, and the man of sorrows; my saviour, my friend, my master, my king, my priest, my lord and my god--he says, '_i_ also for thee!' what an '_i'!_ what power and sweetness we feel in it, so different from any human '_i_,' for all his godhead and all his manhood are concentrated in it, and all 'for thee!' and not only 'all,' but '_ever_' for thee. his unchangeableness is the seal upon every attribute; he will be 'this same jesus' for ever. how can mortal mind estimate this enormous promise? how can mortal heart conceive what is enfolded in these words, 'i also for thee'? one glimpse of its fulness and glory, and we feel that henceforth it must be, shall be, and by his grace _will_ be our true-hearted, whole-hearted cry-- take _myself_, and i will be _ever_, only, all for thee! selections from miss havergal's latest poems. an interlude. _that_ part is finished! i lay down my pen, and wonder if the thoughts will flow as fast through the more difficult defile. for the last was easy, and the channel deeper then. my master, i will trust thee for the rest; give me just what thou wilt, and that will be my best! how can _i_ tell the varied, hidden need of thy dear children, all unknown to me, who at some future time may come and read what i have written! all are known to thee. as thou hast helped me, help me to the end; give me thy own sweet messages of love to send. so now, i pray thee, keep my hand in thine; and guide it as thou wilt. i do not ask to understand the 'wherefore' of each line; mine is the sweeter, easier, happier task, just to look up to thee for every word, rest in thy love, and trust, and know that i am heard. the thoughts of god. they say there is a hollow, safe and still, a point of coolness and repose within the centre of a flame, where life might dwell unharmed and unconsumed, as in a luminous shell, which the bright walls of fire enclose in breachless splendour, barrier that no foes could pass at will. there is a point of rest at the great centre of the cyclone's force, a silence at its secret source;-- a little child might slumber undistressed, without the ruffle of one fairy curl, in that strange central calm amid the mighty whirl. so, in the centre of these thoughts of god, cyclones of power, consuming glory-fire,-- as we fall o'erawed upon our faces, and are lifted higher by his great gentleness, and carried nigher than unredeemèd angels, till we stand even in the hollow of his hand, nay, more! we lean upon his breast-- _there_, there we find a point of perfect rest and glorious safety. there we see his thoughts to usward, thoughts of peace that stoop in tenderest love; that still increase with increase of our need; that never change, that never fail, or falter, or forget o pity infinite! o royal mercy free! o gentle climax of the depth and height of god's most precious thoughts, most wonderful, most strange! 'for i am poor and needy, yet the lord himself, jehovah, _thinketh upon me_!' 'free to serve.' she chose his service. for the lord of love had chosen her, and paid the awful price for her redemption; and had sought her out, and set her free, and clothed her gloriously, and put his royal ring upon her hand, and crowns of loving-kindness on her head. she chose it. yet it seemed she could not yield the fuller measure other lives could bring; for he had given her a precious gift, a treasure and a charge to prize and keep, a tiny hand, a darling hand, that traced on her heart's tablet words of golden love. and there was not much room for other lines, for time and thought were spent (and rightly spent, for he had given the charge), and hours and days were concentrated on the one dear task. but he had need of her. not one new gem but many for his crown;--not one fair sheaf, but many, she should bring. and she should have a richer, happier harvest-home at last. because more fruit, more glory and more praise her life should yield to him. and so he came, the master came himself, and gently took the little hand in his, and gave it room among the angel-harpers. jesus came and laid his own hand on the quivering heart, and made it very still, that he might write invisible words of power--'free to serve!' then through the darkness and the chill he sent a heat-ray of his love, developing the mystic writing, till it glowed and shone and lit up all her life with radiance new,-- the happy service of a yielded heart. with comfort that he never ceased to give (because her need could never cease) she filled the empty chalices of other lives, and time and thought were thenceforth spent for him who loved her with his everlasting love. let him write what he will upon our hearts, with his unerring pen. they are his own, hewn from the rock by his selecting grace, prepared for his own glory. let him write! be sure he will not cross out one sweet word but to inscribe a sweeter,--but to grave one that shall shine for ever to his praise, and thus fulfil our deepest heart-desire. the tearful eye at first may read the line, 'bondage to grief!' but he shall wipe away the tears, and clear the vision, till it read in ever-brightening letters, 'free to serve!' for whom the son makes free is free indeed. nor only by reclaiming his good gifts, but by withholding, doth the master write these words upon the heart. not always needs erasure of some blessèd line of love for this more blest inscription. where he finds a tablet empty for the 'lines left out,' that 'might have been' engraved with human love and sweetest human cares, yet never bore that poetry of life, his own dear hand writes 'free to serve!' and these clear characters fill with fair colours all the unclaimed space, else grey and colourless. then let it be the motto of our lives until we stand in the great freedom of eternity, where we '_shall_ serve him' while we see his face, for ever and for ever 'free to serve.' coming to the king. chronicles ix. - . i came from very far away to see the king of salem; for i had been told of glory and of wisdom manifold, and condescension infinite and free. how could i rest, when i had heard his fame, in that dark lonely land of death from whence i came? i came (but not like sheba's queen), alone! no stately train, no costly gifts to bring; no friend at court, save one, that one the king! i had requests to spread before his throne, and i had questions none could solve for me, of import deep, and full of awful mystery. i came and communed with that mighty king, and told him all my heart; i cannot say, in mortal ear, what communings were they. but wouldst thou know, go too, and meekly bring all that is in thy heart, and thou shalt hear his voice of love and power, his answers sweet and clear. o happy end of every weary quest! he told me all i needed, graciously;-- enough for guidance, and for victory o'er doubts and fears, enough for quiet rest; and when some veiled response i could not read, it was not hid from him,--this was enough indeed. his wisdom and his glories passed before my wondering eyes in gradual revelation; the house that he had built, its strong foundation, its living stones; and, brightening more and more, fair glimpses of that palace far away, where all his loyal ones shall dwell with him for aye. true the report that reached my far-off land of all his wisdom and transcendent fame; yet i believed not until i came,-- bowed to the dust till raised by royal hand. the half was never told by mortal word; my king exceeded all the fame that i had heard! oh, happy are his servants! happy they who stand continually before his face, ready to do his will of wisest grace! my king! is mine such blessedness to-day? for i too hear thy wisdom, line by line, thy ever brightening words in holy radiance shine. oh, blessèd be the lord thy god, who set our king upon his throne! divine delight in the beloved crowning thee with might, honour, and majesty supreme; and yet the strange and godlike secret opening thus,-- the kingship of his christ ordained through love to us! what shall i render to my glorious king? i have but that which i receive from thee; and what i give, thou givest back to me, transmuted by thy touch; each worthless thing changed to the preciousness of gem or gold, and by thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold. all my desire thou grantest, whatsoe'er i ask! was ever mythic tale or dream so bold as this reality,--this stream of boundless blessings flowing full and free? yet more than i have thought or asked of thee, out of thy royal bounty still thou givest me. now i will turn to my own land, and tell what i myself have seen and heard of thee. and give thine own sweet message, 'come and see!' and yet in heart and mind for ever dwell with thee, my king of peace, in loyal rest, within the fair pavilion of thy presence blest. 'surely in what place my lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even there also will thy servant be.'-- _sam._ xv. . 'where i am, there shall also my servant be.'--_john_ xii. . the two paths. via dolorosa and via giojosa. [_suggested by a picture._] my master, they have wronged thee and thy love! they only told me i should find the path a via dolorosa all the way! even thy sweetest singers only sang of pressing onward through the same sharp thorns, with bleeding footsteps, through the chill dark mist, following and struggling till they reach the light, the rest, the sunshine of the far beyond. the anthems of the pilgrimage were set in most pathetic minors, exquisite, yet breathing sadness more than any praise; thy minstrels let the fitful breezes make Ã�olian moans on their entrusted harps, until the listeners thought that this was all the music thou hadst given. and so the steps that halted where the two ways met and crossed, the broad and narrow, turned aside in fear, thinking the radiance of their youth must pass in sombre shadows if they followed thee; hearing afar such echoes of one strain, the cross, the tribulation, and the toil, the conflict, and the clinging in the dark. what wonder that the dancing feet are stayed from entering the only path of peace! master, forgive them! tune their harps anew, and put a new song in their mouths for thee, and make thy chosen people joyful in thy love. lord jesus, thou hast trodden once for all the via dolorosa,--and for us! no artist power or minstrel gift may tell the cost to thee of each unfaltering step, when love that passeth knowledge led thee on, faithful and true to god, and true to us. and now, belovèd lord, thou callest us to follow thee, and we will take thy word about the path which thou hast marked for us. narrow indeed it is! who does not choose the narrow track upon the mountain side, with ever-widening view, and freshening air, and honeyed heather, rather than the road, with smoothest breadth of dust and loss of view, soiled blossoms not worth gathering, and the noise of wheels instead of silence of the hills, or music of the waterfalls? oh, why should they misrepresent thy words, and make 'narrow' synonymous with 'very hard'? for thou, divinest wisdom, thou hast said thy ways are ways of pleasantness, and all thy paths are peace; and that the path of him who wears thy perfect robe of righteousness is as the light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. and thou hast given an olden promise, rarely quoted now,[footnote: job xxvi. .] because it is too bright for our weak faith: 'if they obey and serve him, they shall spend days in prosperity, and they shall spend their years in pleasures.' all because thy days were full of sorrow, and thy lonely years were passed in grief's acquaintance--all for us! master, i set my seal that thou art true, of thy good promise not one thing hath failed! and i would send a ringing challenge forth, to all who know thy name, to tell it out, thy faithfulness to every written word, thy loving-kindness crowning all the days,-- to say and sing with me: 'the lord is good, his mercy is for ever, and his truth is written on each page of all my life!' yes! there _is_ tribulation, but thy power can blend it with rejoicing. there _are_ thorns, but they have kept us in the narrow way, the king's highway of holiness and peace. and there _is_ chastening, but the father's love flows through it; and would any trusting heart forego the chastening and forego the love? and every step leads on to 'more and more,' from strength to strength thy pilgrims pass and sing the praise of him who leads them on and on, from glory unto glory, even here! only for jesus. only for jesus! lord, keep it for ever sealed on the heart and engraved on the life! pulse of all gladness and nerve of endeavour, secret of rest, and the strength of our strife. 'vessels of mercy, prepared unto glory.' (rom. ix. .) vessels of mercy, prepared unto glory! this is your calling and this is your joy! this, for the new year unfolding before ye, tells out the terms of your blessed employ. vessels, it may be, all empty and broken, marred in the hand of inscrutable skill; (love can accept the mysterious token!) marred but to make them more beautiful still. jer. xviii. . vessels, it may be, not costly or golden; vessels, it may be, of quantity small, yet by the nail in the sure place upholden, never to shiver and never to fall. isa. xxii. , . vessels to honour, made sacred and holy, meet for the use of the master we love, ready for service, all simple and lowly, ready, one day, for the temple above. tim. ii. . yes, though the vessels be fragile and earthen, god hath commanded his glory to shine; treasure resplendent henceforth is our burthen, excellent power, not ours but divine. cor. iv. , . chosen in christ ere the dawn of creation, chosen for him, to be filled with his grace, chosen to carry the streams of salvation into each thirsty and desolate place. acts ix. . take all thy vessels, o glorious finer, purge all the dross, that each chalice may be pure in thy pattern, completer, diviner, filled with thy glory and shining for thee. prov. xxv. . the turned lesson. 'i thought i knew it!' she said, 'i thought i had learnt it quite!' but the gentle teacher shook her head, with a grave yet loving light in the eyes that fell on the upturned face, as she gave the book with the mark still set in the self-same place. 'i thought i knew it!' she said; and a heavy tear fell down, as she turned away with bending head, yet not for reproof or frown, not for the lesson to learn again, or the play hour lost;-- it was something else that gave the pain. she could not have put it in words, but her teacher understood, as god understands the chirp of the birds in the depth of an autumn wood. and a quiet touch on the reddening cheek was quite enough; no need to question, no need to speak. then the gentle voice was heard, 'now i will try you again!' and the lesson was mastered,--every word! was it not worth the pain? was it not kinder the task to turn, than to let it pass, as a lost, lost leaf that she did not learn? is it not often so, that we only learn in part, and the master's testing-time may show that it was not quite 'by heart'? then he gives, in his wise and patient grace, that lesson again with the mark still set in the self-same place. only, stay by his side till the page is really known. it may be we failed because we tried to learn it all alone, and now that he would not let us lose one lesson of love (for he knows the loss),--can we refuse? but oh! how could we dream that we knew it all so well! reading so fluently, as we deem, what we could not even spell! and oh! how could we grieve once more that patient one who has turned so many a task before! that waiting one, who now is letting us try again; watching us with the patient brow, that bore the wreath of pain; thoroughly teaching what he would teach, line upon line, thoroughly doing his work in each. then let our hearts 'be still,' though our task is turned to-day; oh let him teach us what he will, in his own gracious way. till, sitting only at jesus' feet, as we learn each line the hardest is found all clear and sweet! sunday night. rest him, o father! thou didst send him forth with great and gracious messages of love; but thy ambassador is weary now, worn with the weight of his high embassy. now care for him as thou hast cared for us in sending him; and cause him to lie down in thy fresh pastures, by thy streams of peace. let thy left hand be now beneath his head, and thine upholding right encircle him, and, underneath, the everlasting arms be felt in full support. so let him rest, hushed like a little child, without one care; and so give thy belovèd sleep to-night. rest him, dear master! he hath poured for us the wine of joy, and we have been refreshed. now fill _his_ chalice, give him sweet new draughts of life and love, with thine own hand; be thou his ministrant to-night; draw very near in all thy tenderness and all thy power. oh speak to him! thou knowest how to speak a word in season to thy weary ones, and he is weary now. thou lovest him-- let thy disciple lean upon thy breast, and, leaning, gain new strength to 'rise and shine.' rest him, o loving spirit! let thy calm fall on his soul to-night. o holy dove, spread thy bright wing above him, let him rest beneath its shadow; let him know afresh the infinite truth and might of thy dear name-- 'our comforter!' as gentlest touch will stay the strong vibrations of a jarring chord, so lay thy hand upon his heart, and still each overstraining throb, each pulsing pain. then, in the stillness, breathe upon the strings, and let thy holy music overflow with soothing power his listening, resting soul. a song in the night. [written in severe pain, sunday afternoon, october th, , at the pension wengen, alps.] i take this pain, lord jesus, from thine own hand, the strength to bear it bravely thou wilt command. i am too weak for effort, so let me rest, in hush of sweet submission, on thine own breast. i take this pain, lord jesus, as proof indeed that thou art watching closely my truest need; that thou, my good physician, art watching still; that all thine own good pleasure thou wilt fulfil. i take this pain, lord jesus; what thou dost choose the soul that really loves thee will not refuse. it is not for the first time i trust to-day; for thee my heart has never a trustless 'nay!' i take this pain, lord jesus; but what beside? 'tis no unmingled portion thou dost provide. in every hour of faintness my cup runs o'er with faithfulness and mercy, and love's sweet store. i take this pain, lord jesus, as thine own gift; and true though tremulous praises i now uplift. i am too weak to sing them, but thou dost hear the whisper from the pillow, thou art so near! 'tis thy dear hand, o saviour, that presseth sore, the hand that bears the nail-prints for evermore. and now beneath its shadow, hidden by thee, the pressure only tells me thou lovest me! what will you do without him? i could not do without him! jesus is more to me than all the richest, fairest gifts of earth could ever be. but the more i find him precious-- and the more i find him true-- the more i long for you to find what he can be to you. you need not do without him, for he is passing by, he is waiting to be gracious, only waiting for your cry: he is waiting to receive you-- to make you all his own! why will you do without him, and wander on alone? why will you do without him? is he not kind indeed? did he not die to save you? is he not all you need? do you not want a saviour? do you not want a friend? one who will love you faithfully, and love you to the end? why will you do without him? the word of god is true! the world is passing to its doom-- and you are passing too. it may be no to-morrow shall dawn on you or me; why will you run the awful risk of all eternity? what will you do without him, in the long and dreary day of trouble and perplexity, when you do not know the way, and no one else can help you, and no one guides you right, and hope comes not with morning, and rest comes not with night? you could not do without him, if once he made you see the fetters that enchain you, till he hath set you free. if once you saw the fearful load of sin upon your soul; the hidden plague that ends in death, unless he makes you whole! what will you do without him, when death is drawing near? without his love--the only love that casts out every fear; when the shadow-valley opens, unlighted and unknown, and the terrors of its darkness must all be passed alone! what will you do without him, when the great white throne is set, and the judge who never can mistake, and never can forget,-- the judge whom you have never here as friend and saviour sought, shall summon you to give account of deed and word and thought? what will you do without him, when he hath shut the door, and you are left outside, because you would not come before? when it is no use knocking, no use to stand and wait; for the word of doom tolls through your heart that terrible 'too late!' you cannot do without him! there is no other name by which you ever _can_ be saved, no way, no hope, no claim! without him--everlasting loss of love, and life, and light! without him--everlasting woe, and everlasting night. but with him--oh! _with jesus_! are any words so blest? with jesus, everlasting joy and everlasting rest! with jesus--all the empty heart filled with his perfect love; with jesus--perfect peace below, and perfect bliss above. why should you do without him? it is not yet too late; he has not closed the day of grace, he has not shut the gate. he calls you! hush! he calls you! he would not have you go another step without him, because he loves you so. why will you do without him? he calls and calls again-- 'come unto me! come unto me!' oh, shall he call in vain? he wants to have you with him; do you not want him too? you cannot do without him, and he wants--even you. church missionary jubilee hymn. 'he shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.'--isa. liii. . rejoice with jesus christ to-day, all ye who love his holy sway! the travail of his soul is past, he shall be satisfied at last. rejoice with him, rejoice indeed! for he shall see his chosen seed. but ours the trust, the grand employ, to work out this divinest joy. of all his own he loseth none, they shall be gathered one by one; he gathereth the smallest grain, his travail shall not be in vain. arise and work! arise and pray that he would haste the dawning day! and let the silver trumpet sound, wherever satan's slaves are found. the vanquished foe shall soon be stilled, the conquering saviour's joy fulfilled, fulfilled in us, fulfilled in them, his crown, his royal diadem. soon, soon our waiting eyes shall see the saviour's mighty jubilee! his harvest joy is filling fast, he shall be satisfied at last. a happy new year to you! new mercies, new blessings, new light on thy way; new courage, new hope, and new strength for each day; new notes of thanksgiving, new chords of delight, new praise in the morning, new songs in the night, new wine in thy chalice, new altars to raise; new fruits for thy master, new garments of praise; new gifts from his treasures, new smiles from his face; new streams from the fountain of infinite grace; new stars for thy crown, and new tokens of love; new gleams of the glory that waits thee above; new light of his countenance, full and unpriced; all this be the joy of thy new life in christ! another year. another year is dawning! dear master, let it be in working or in waiting, another year with thee. another year of leaning upon thy loving breast, of ever-deepening trustfulness, of quiet, happy rest. another year of mercies, of faithfulness and grace; another year of gladness in the shining of thy face. another year of progress, another year of praise; another year of proving thy presence 'all the days.' another year of service, of witness for thy love; another year of training for holier work above. another year is dawning! dear master, let it be on earth, or else in heaven, another year for thee! new year's wishes. what shall i wish thee? treasures of earth? songs in the springtime, pleasure and mirth? flowers on thy pathway, skies ever clear? would this ensure thee a happy new year? what shall i wish thee? what can be found bringing thee sunshine all the year round? where is the treasure, lasting and dear, that shall ensure thee a happy new year? faith that increaseth, walking in light; hope that aboundeth, happy and bright; love that is perfect, casting out fear; these shall ensure thee a happy new year. peace in the saviour, rest at his feet, smile of his countenance radiant and sweet, joy in his presence! christ ever near! this will ensure thee a happy new year! 'most blessed for ever.' (_though the date of these lines is uncertain, they are chosen as a closing chord to her songs on earth._) the prayer of many a day is all fulfilled, only by full fruition stayed and stilled; you asked for blessing as your father willed, now he hath answered: 'most blessed for ever!' lost is the daily light of mutual smile, you therefore sorrow now a little while; but floating down life's dimmed and lonely aisle comes the clear music: 'most blessed for ever!' from the great anthems of the crystal sea, through the far vistas of eternity, grand echoes of the word peal on for thee, sweetest and fullest: 'most blessed for ever.' [illustration] *gold dust* a collection of golden counsels for the sanctification of daily life translated and abridged from the french by e. l. e. b. edited by charlotte m. yonge grosset & dunlap publishers new york _printed in the united states of america_ _to_ _e. b. h._ _this little book is most lovingly dedicated_ preface this little book is a translation from a collection of devotional thoughts published in france under the title of "paillettes d'or." it is necessarily a selection, since the gold dust which suits french readers requires a fresh sifting for the english; but the value of most of the thoughts seems to me well to deserve the term of gold. there are many who will much enjoy having this little collection on their table, so as to be able to take it up and dwell upon some one of its grains at leisure times throughout the day's business. c. m. yonge. feb. , . introduction in the south of france, during the summer, little children and old and infirm poor who are incapable of hard work, in order to earn a livelihood, employ themselves in searching the beds of dried up rivers for "paillettes d'or," or golden dust, which sparkles in the sun, and which the water carries away as it flows. what is done by these poor people and little children for the gold dust god has sown in those obscure rivers, we would do with those counsels and teachings which god has sown almost everywhere, which sparkle, enlighten, and inspire for a moment, then disappear, leaving but regret that the thought did not occur to collect and treasure them. who is there that has not experienced at some time in his life those teachings so soft and gentle, yet so forcible, which make the heart thrill, and reveal to it suddenly a world of peace, joy, and devotion? it may have been but a word read in a book, or a sentence overheard in conversation, which may have had for us a two-fold meaning, and, in passing, left us touched with an unknown power. it was the smile on the lips of a beloved one whom we knew to be sorrowful, that spoke to us of the sweet joy of resignation. it was the open look of an innocent child that revealed to us all the beauty of frankness and simplicity. oh! if we had but treasured all the rays of light that cross our path and sparkle but for a moment; oh! if we had but engraved them on our hearts! what a guide and comfort they would have been to us in the days of discouragement and sorrow; what counsels to guide our actions, what consolations to soothe the broken heart! how many new means of doing good! it is this simple work of gathering a little from every source--from nature, from books, above all, from mankind itself--that is the intention of one of your fellow-creatures, dear souls, you who long so to make your lives more holy and devout! and in the same way as the gold dust, gathered and accumulated from the river's bed, was the means of bringing a little profit to the hearth, so would we endeavor to carry a little joy to your hearts, and peace to your souls. gather, then, these little counsels; gather them with watchfulness; let them for a moment penetrate deep into your heart; then scatter them abroad again, that they may go with their good words to the help of others. they will not be importunate, will not even ask to be preserved; they do not desire fame; all that they seek is to convey a transient blessing. gold dust i. "my lord!" exclaimed once a devout soul, "give me every day a little work to occupy my mind; a little suffering to sanctify my spirit; a little good to do to comfort my heart." ii. if by our deeds we become saints, true it is, that by our deeds also we shall be condemned. yes, it is little by little that we press onward, either towards salvation or eternal ruin; and when at last we reach the gate of glory, or that of perdition, the cry escapes our lips, "already!" the first backward step is almost imperceptible; it was those tiny flakes of snow, seeming to melt as they touch the earth, but falling one upon another, that have formed that immense mass which seems ready to fall and crush us. ah! if i tried to trace back to what first led to that act of sin, the thought that produced the desire, the circumstance that gave rise to the thought, i should find something almost imperceptible; perhaps a word with a _double entendre_ i had heard, and at which i had smiled; a useless explanation, sought out of mere curiosity; a hasty look, cast i knew not wherefore, and which conscience prompted me to check; a prayer neglected, because it wearied me; work left undone, while i indulged in some day-dream that flitted before my fancy.... a week later the same things occur, but this time more prolonged; the stifled voice of conscience is hushed. yet another week.... alas! let us stop there; each can complete the sad story for himself, and it is easy to draw the practical conclusion. iii. a young girl, in one of those moments when the heart seems to overflow with devotion, wrote thus in her journal: "if i dared, i would ask god why i am placed in the world; what have i to do? i know not; my days are idly spent, and i do not even regret them.... if i might but do some good to myself or another, if only for the short space of a minute in each day!" a few days later, when in a calmer mood she re-read these lines, she added, "why, nothing is easier! i have but to give a cup of cold water to one of christ's little ones." even _less_ than that: a word of advice; something lent to another; a little vexation patiently borne; a prayer for a friend offered to god; the fault or thoughtlessness of another repaired without his knowledge--god will recompense it all a thousand-fold! iv. alms given in secret; that is the charity which brings a blessing. what sweet enjoyment to be able to shed a little happiness around us! what an easy and agreeable task is that of trying to render others happy. father! if i try to please and imitate thee thus, wilt thou indeed bless me? thanks! thanks! be unto thee. v. is it fair always to forget all the good or kindness shown to us by those with whom we live, for the sake of _one_ little pain they may have caused us, and which, most likely, was quite unintentional on their part? vi. when you sometimes find in books advice or example that you think may be of service, you take care to copy and consult it as an oracle. do as much for the good of your soul. engrave in your memory, and even write down, the counsels and precepts that you hear or read; ... then, from time to time, study this little collection, which you will not prize the less that you have made it all yourself. books written by others in time become wearisome to us, but of those we write ourselves we never tire. and it _will_ be yours, this collection of thoughts chosen because you liked them; counsels you have given yourself; moral receipts you have discovered, and of which, perhaps, you have proved the efficacy. happy soul! that each day reaps its harvest. vii. do you wish to live at peace with all the world? then practise the maxims of an influential man, who, when asked, after the revolution, how he managed to escape the executioner's axe, replied, "i made myself of no reputation and kept silence." would you live peaceably with the members of your family, above all with those who exercise a certain control of you? use the means employed by a pious woman, who had to live with one of a trying temper, and which she summed up in the following words:-- "i do everything to please her. "i fulfil all my duties with a smiling face, never revealing the trouble it causes me. "i bear patiently everything that displeases me. "i consult her on many subjects of which, perhaps, i may be the better judge." would you be at peace with your conscience? let your guardian angel find you at each moment of the day doing one of these four things which once formed the rule of a saintly life: ( .) praying; ( .) laboring; ( .) striving after holiness; ( .) practising patience. would you become holy? try to add to the above actions the following virtues: method, faith, spiritual combat, perseverance. finally, if you would live in an atmosphere of benevolence, make it your study to be always rendering others service, and never hesitate to ask the same of them. in offering help, you make a step towards gaining a friend; in asking it, you please by this mark of your confidence. the result of this will be a constant habit of mutual forbearance, and a fear to be disobliging in matters of greater importance. viii. when teaching or working with others, never laugh or make fun of their awkwardness. if it is caused by stupidity, your laughter is uncharitable; if from ignorance, your mockery is, to say the least, unjust. teach the unskilful with gentleness; show him the right way to work; and god, who sees all your efforts, will smile on your patience, and send you help in all your difficulties. ix. when the heart is heavy, and we suffer from depression or disappointment, how thankful we should be that we still have work and prayer left to comfort us. occupation forcibly diverts the mind; prayer sweetly soothes the soul. "then," writes one who had been sorely tried, "i tell my griefs to god, as a child tells its troubles to its mother; and when i have told all i am comforted, and repeat with a lightened heart the prayer of s. françoise de chantal (who certainly suffered more than i), 'thy will be done for ever and ever, o lord, without _if_ or _but_;' ... and then, for fear a murmur may arise in my heart, i return immediately to my work, and become absorbed in occupation." x. he who is never satisfied with anything, satisfies no one. xi. are there many who try to be of some little help or comfort to the souls with whom they are brought in contact through life? poor souls, that, perhaps, have no longer strength or will to manifest the longing they experience, and who languish for want of help, without being aware that they are perishing. oh, mingle sometimes with your earthly help the blessed name of god; and if there remain one little spark of life in the soul, that name will rekindle it, and carry comfort and resignation; even as air breathed into the mouth of any one apparently dead, rushes into the lungs, and revives the sufferer, if but one breath of life remains. _souls! souls! i yearn for souls!_--this is the cry of the saviour; and for their sakes he died upon the cross, and remains until eternity their intercessor. _souls! souls! i must win souls!_--it is the cry of satan; and to obtain them he scatters gold to tempt them, multiplies their pleasures and vanities, and gives the praise that only infatuates. _souls! souls! we long for souls!_--let this be our aim, readers and writers of these our "paillettes;" and for the sake of even _one_ soul, let not fatigue, expense, or the criticism of the world, deter us.... xii. how few there are who would thus dare to address god each night: "lord, deal with me to-morrow as i have this day dealt with others; ... those to whom i was harsh, and from malice, or to show my own superiority, exposed their failings; others, to whom, from pride or dislike, i refused to speak,--one i have avoided, another i cannot like because she displeases me; i will not forgive,--to whom i will not show any kindness."... and yet let us never forget that, sooner or later, god will do unto us even as we have done unto them. xiii. "grant me, o lord," said a humble soul, "that i may pass unnoticed through the world." this should be the wish, or rather the aim, of all true devotion. small virtues require the praise of man to sustain them, just as little children require encouragement to walk or stand alone. but true virtue goes quietly through the world, scattering good around, and performing noble deeds, without even the knowledge that what it does is heroic. xiv. s. chantal one day was excusing herself to s. françois de sales for having spoken hastily to some one, on the plea that it was in the cause of justice. the saint replied, "you have been more just than righteous; but we should be more righteous than just." xv. a devout woman once wrote thus: "in my own family i try to be as little in the way as possible, satisfied with everything, and never to believe for a moment that any one means unkindly towards me. "if people are friendly and kind to me, i enjoy it; if they neglect me, or leave me, i am always happy alone. it all tends to my one aim, forgetfulness of self in order to please god." xvi. learning is not without its effect upon the soul; it either lends it wings to bear it up to god, or leaves behind it tiny sparks, which little by little consume the whole being. if you would ascertain all the good or ill you have derived from all those hours devoted to historians, poets, novelists, or philosophers, put to yourself these questions: since acquiring this knowledge, am i wiser? am i better? am i happier? wiser?--that is to say, more self-controlled, less the slave of my passions, less irritated by small vexations, braver in bearing misfortunes, more careful to live for eternity? better?--more forbearing towards others, more forgiving, less uncharitable, more reticent in opposing the faults of others, more solicitous for the happiness of those around me? happier?--that would mean more contented with my station in life, striving to derive all possible benefits from it, to beautify rather than to alter it? have i more faith in god, and more calmness and resignation in all the events of life? if you cannot reply in the affirmative, then examine your heart thoroughly, and you will find there, stifling the good that god has implanted, these three tyrants that have obtained dominion over, you: ( .) pride; ( .) ambition; ( .) self-conceit. from them have sprung: dissatisfaction and contempt of your life and its surroundings, restlessness, a longing for power and dominion over others, malice, habitual discontent, and incessant murmurings. have you any further doubts? then inquire of those with whom you live. ah! if this be indeed the sad result, then, whatever may be your age, close, oh! close those books, and seek once more those two elements of happiness you ought never to have forsaken, and which, had you made them the companions of your study, would have kept you pure and good. i refer to prayer and manual labor. xvii. listen to the story of a simple shepherd, given in his own words: "i forget now who it was that once said to me, 'jean baptiste, you are very poor?'--true.--'if you fell ill, your wife and children would be destitute?'--true. and then i felt anxious and uneasy for the rest of the day." "at evensong wiser thoughts came to me, and i said to myself: jean baptiste, for more than thirty years you have lived in the world, you have never possessed anything, yet still you live on, and have been provided each day with nourishment, each night with repose. of trouble god has never sent you more than your share. of help the means have never failed you. to whom do you owe all this? to god. jean baptiste, be no longer ungrateful, and banish those anxious thoughts; for what could ever induce you to think that the hand from which you have already received so much, would close against you when you grow old, and have greater need of help? i finished my prayer, and felt at peace." xviii. the work of the sower is given to each of us in this world, and we fall short of our duty when we let those with whom we are brought in contact leave us without having given them a kind thought or pious impression. nothing is so sad as the cry, "i am useless!" happily none need ever _be_ so. a kind word, a gentle act, a modest demeanor, a loving smile, are as so many seeds that we can scatter every moment of our lives, and which will always spring up and bear fruit. happy are those who have many around them ... they are rich in opportunities, and may sow plenteously. xix. few positions in life are so full of importunities as that of the mother of a family, or mistress of a house. she may have a dozen interruptions while writing _one_ letter, or settling an account. what holiness, what self-control, is needed to be always calm and unruffled amid these little vexations, and never to manifest the slightest impatience! leaving the work without apparent annoyance, replying with a smile upon the lips, awaiting patiently the end of a long conversation, and finally returning calmly to the yet unfinished work--all this is the sign of a recollected soul, and one that waits upon god. oh! what blessings are shed around them by such patient souls ... but, alas! how rarely they are to be met with! xx. there are times in one's life when all the world seems to turn against us. our motives are misunderstood, our words misconstrued, a malicious smile or an unkind word reveals to us the unfriendly feelings of others. our advances are repulsed, or met with icy coldness; a dry refusal arrests on our lips the offer of help.... oh, how hard it all seems, and the more so that we cannot divine the cause! courage, patience, poor disconsolate one! god is making a furrow in your heart, where he will surely sow his grace. it is rare when injustice, or slights patiently borne, do not leave the heart at the close of the day filled with marvellous joy and peace. it is the seed god has sown, springing up and bearing fruit. xxi. that which costs little is of little worth. this thought should make us tremble. in our self-examination we may experience at times a certain satisfaction in noticing the little virtues we may possess, above all, those that render us pleasing in the eyes of others. for instance, we may like to pray at a certain place, with certain sentiments, and we think ourselves devout; we are gentle, polite, and smiling towards one person in particular; patient with those we fear, or in whose good opinion we would stand; we are devoted, charitable, generous, because the heart experiences an unspeakable pleasure in spending and being spent for others; we suffer willingly at the hands of some one we love, and then say we are patient; we are silent, because we have no inclination to speak; shunning society because we fail to shine there, and then fancy that we love retirement. take these virtues that give you such self-satisfaction, one by one, and ask yourself at what sacrifice, labor, or cost, above all, with what care you have managed to acquire them.... alas! you will find that all that patience, affability, generosity, and piety are but as naught, springing from a heart puffed up with pride. it costs nothing, and it is worthless. as self-sacrifice, says de maistre, is the basis and essence of virtue, so those virtues are the most meritorious that have cost the greatest effort to attain. do not look with so much pride on this collection of virtues, but rather bring yourself to account for your faults. take just one, the first that comes, impatience, sloth, gossip, uncharitableness, sulkiness, whatever it may be, and attack it bravely. it will take at least a month, calculating upon three victories every day, not indeed to eradicate it,--a fault is not so short-lived,--but to prevent its attaining dominion over you. that one subdued, then take another. it is the work of a lifetime; and truly to our faults may we apply the saying, "_quand il n'y en a plus, il y en a encore._" "happy should i think myself," said s. francis de sales, "if i could rid myself of my imperfections but _one_-quarter of an hour previous to my death." xxii. before holy communion jesus my child, it is not wisdom _i_ require of thee, it sufficeth if thou lovest me well. speak to me as thou wouldst talk to thy mother if she were here, pressing thee to her heart. * * * * * _hast thou none for whom thou wouldst intercede?_ tell me the names of thy kindred and thy friends; and at the mention of each name add what thou wouldst have me do for them. ask much fervently; the generous hearts that forget themselves for others are very dear unto me. tell me of the poor thou wouldst succor, the sick thou hast seen suffering, the sinful thou wouldst reclaim, the estranged thou wouldst receive to thy heart again. pray fervently for all mankind. remind me of my promise to hear all prayers that proceed from the heart; and the prayer offered for one who loves us, and is dear to us, is sure to be heartfelt and fervent. * * * * * _hast thou no favors to ask of me?_ give me, if thou wilt, a list of all thy desires, all the wants of thy soul. tell me, simply, of all thy pride, sensuality, self-love, sloth; and ask for my help in thy struggles to overcome them. poor child! be not abashed; many that had the same faults to contend against are now saints in heaven. they cried to me for help, and by degrees they conquered. do not hesitate to ask for temporal blessings,--health, intellect, success. i can bestow them, and never fail to do so, where they tend to make the soul more holy. what wouldst thou this day, my child?... if thou didst but know how i long to bless thee!... * * * * * _hast thou no interests which occupy thy mind?_ tell me of them all.... of thy vocation. what dost thou think? what dost thou desire? wouldst thou give pleasure to thy mother, thy family, those in authority over thee? what wouldst thou do for them? and for me hast thou no ardor? dost thou not desire to do some good to the souls of those thou lovest, but who are forgetful of me? tell me of one in whom thou hast interest; the motive that actuates; the means thou wouldst employ. lay before me thy failures, and _i_ will teach thee the cause. whom wouldst thou have to help thee? the hearts of all are in my keeping, and _i_ lead them gently wheresoever _i_ will. rest assured, all who are needful to thee, _i_ will place around thee. _oh! my child, tell me of all thy weariness_: who has grieved thee? treated thee with contempt? wounded thy self-love? tell me all, and thou wilt end by saying, all is forgiven, all forgotten ... and _i_, surely _i_ will bless thee!... _art thou fearful of the future?_ is there in thy heart that vague dread that thou canst not define, but which nevertheless torments thee? trust in my providence.... _i_ am present with thee, _i_ know all, and _i_ will never leave thee nor forsake thee. are there around thee those seemingly less devout than formerly, whose coldness or indifference have estranged thee from them without real cause?... pray for them. _i_ can draw them back to thee if they are necessary to the sanctification of thy soul. _what are the joys of which thou hast to tell me?_ let me share thy pleasures; tell me of all that has occurred since yesterday to comfort thee, please thee, to give thee joy! that fear suddenly dispelled, that unexpected success, that token of affection, the trial that proved thee stronger than thou thoughtest.... my child, _i_ sent it all; why not show some gratitude, and simply thank thy lord? gratitude draws down a blessing, and the great benefactor likes his children to remind him of his goodness. _hast thou no promises to make to me?_ i can read thy heart; thou knowest it; thou mayst deceive man, but thou canst never deceive god. be sincere. _art thou resolved to avoid all occasions of sin?_ to renounce that which tempts thee; never again to open the book that excites thine imagination? not to bestow thine affection on one who is not devout, and whose presence steals the peace from thy soul? wilt thou go now and be loving and forbearing towards one who has vexed thee?... good, my child!... go, then, return to thy daily toil; be silent, humble, resigned, charitable; then return to me with a heart yet more loving and devoted, and _i_ shall have for thee fresh blessings. xxiii. "there will soon be none left," said s. francis de sales, "who will love poor sinners but god and myself." oh! why do we fail in love towards those poor sinful ones! are they not very much to be pitied? when they are prosperous, pray for them; but when misfortune comes (and trouble weighs heavily upon the wicked), death depriving them of the only beings they did not hate, afflicting them with a loathsome disease, delivering them up to scorn and misery--oh! then, when all this comes upon them, love them freely. it is by affection alone that we can reach the worst characters, and the souls that are steeped in sin. how many have died impenitent, who, if only some one had cared for them and shown them love, might have become at last saints in heaven! oh! the sins that are committed, oh! the souls we suffer to wander from god, and all because we are so wanting in love towards them. xxiv. let us always be on our guard against _prejudice_. some women have a way (of which they themselves are unconscious) of turning the cold shoulder to some one member of their family. for what reason? they cannot say, simply because the cause is never very clearly defined and in this lies all the mischief. perhaps an air of indifference they may have fancied, and which arose merely from fatigue, or trouble that could not be confided to them. a word misinterpreted, because heard at a time when they felt discontented, and their morbid imagination made everything appear in a false light. some scandal to which they ought never to have listened, or, at least, should have endeavored to fathom, going direct to the person concerned and seeking an explanation. and behold the result: they in their turn become cold, reserved, and suspicious, misinterpreting the slightest gesture ... in a few days arises a coldness, from the feeling they are no longer beloved; then follow contempt and mistrust, finally, a hatred that gnaws and rends the very heart. it all springs up imperceptibly, till at last the family life is one of bitterness and misery. they console, or better still, excuse themselves, with the thought of their suffering, never considering how much pain they give to others, nor where the fault lies. xxv. let it rest! ah! how many hearts on the brink of anxiety and disquietude by this simple sentence have been made calm and happy! some proceeding has wounded us by its want of tact; _let it rest_; no one will think of it again. a harsh or unjust sentence irritates us; _let it rest_; whoever may have given vent to it will be pleased to see it is forgotten. a painful scandal is about to estrange us from an old friend; _let it rest_, and thus preserve our charity and peace of mind. a suspicious look is on the point of cooling our affection; _let it rest_, and our look of trust will restore confidence.... fancy! we who are so careful to remove the briers from our pathway for fear they should wound, yet take pleasure in collecting and piercing our hearts with the thorns that meet us in our daily intercourse with one another. how childish and unreasonable we are! xxvi. of all the means placed by providence within our reach, whereby we may lead souls to him, there is one more blessed than all others,--intercessory prayer. * * * * * how often, in the presence of one deeply loved, but, alas! estranged from god, the heart of mother or wife has felt a sudden impulse to say an earnest word, propose an act of devotion, to paint in glowing colors the blessings of faith and the happiness of virtue ... and she has stopped, deterred by an irresistible fear of how the words may be received; and she says to herself, poor woman, "to-morrow i shall be braver." * * * * * poor mother! poor wife! go and tell to your heavenly father all you would, but _dare_ not, say to the loved one who gives you so much pain. lay that sin-sick soul before the lord, as long ago they laid the paralytic man who could not, or perhaps _would_ not, be led to him. plead for him with the long-suffering saviour, as you would plead with an earthly master, upon whom depended all his future welfare, and say to him simply, "lord, have patience with him yet a little longer." tell god of all your anxiety, your discouragements, the means employed for success. ask him to teach you what to say and how to act. one sentence learned of god in prayer will do more for the conversion of a soul than all our poor human endeavors. _that_ sentence will escape our lips involuntarily. we may not remember that we have said it, but it will sink deep into the heart, making a lasting impression, and silently fulfilling its mission. * * * * * you are, perhaps, surprised, after many years, to see such poor results. ah! how little can you judge!... do you know what you have gained? in the first place, time--often a physical impossibility to sin, which you may attribute to chance, but which was, in reality, the work of providence; and is it nothing, one sin the less, in the life of an immortal soul?... then a vague uneasiness which will soon allow of no rest, a confidence which may enable you to sympathize, more liberty left you for the exercise of religious acts; you no longer see the contemptuous smile at your acts of devotion. is all this _nothing_? ah! if, while on your knees praying for the one you would have reconciled to god, you could but see what is passing in his soul,--the wrestlings, the remorse he strives vainly to stifle; if you could see the work of the holy spirit in the heart, gently but firmly triumphing over the will, how earnestly, how incessantly, would you continue to pray! only have patience to wait--perseverance not to grow weary. it is the want of patience that often makes us exacting towards those we desire to help. more haste, less speed, is an old saying; the more we are exacting, the less likely are we to succeed. men like to act freely, and to have the credit of their actions. it is because we have not learned to persevere that the work seems never to progress. courage, then! the ground may seem too dry for cultivation, but each prayer will be as a drop of water; the marble may be very hard, but each prayer is like the hammer's stroke that wears away its roughness. xxvii. the sweet peace of god bears the outward token of resignation. when the holy spirit dwells within us everything seems bright. everything may not be exactly as we would wish it, but we accept all with a good grace.... for instance, some change in our household or mode of living upsets us. if god is with us, he will whisper, "yield cheerfully thy will; in a little while all will be forgotten." some command or employment wounds our pride; if god is with us, he will say to us, "be submissive, and _i_ will come to thine aid." we may dislike a certain neighborhood; the society there may be repulsive to us, and we are about to become morbid: god will tell us to continue gracious and smiling, for he will recompense the little annoyances we may experience. if you would discern in whom god's spirit dwells, watch that person, and notice whether you ever hear him murmur. xxviii. i want to be holy heavenly father, aid thy child, who longs to become holy! but then, i must be patient under humiliation, let myself be forgotten, and be even pleased at feeling myself set aside. _never mind! i am resolved; i wish to be holy!_ but i must never excuse myself, never be impatient, never out of temper. _never mind! i am resolved; i wish to be holy!_ then i must continually be doing violence to my feelings,--submitting my will always to that of my superiors, never contentious, never sulky, finishing every work begun, in spite of dislike or ennui. _never mind! i am resolved; i wish to be holy!_ but then, i must be always charitable towards all around me; loving them, helping them to the utmost of my power, although it may cause me trouble. _never mind! i am resolved; i wish to be holy!_ but i must constantly strive against the cowardice, sloth, and pride of my nature, renouncing the world, the vanity that pleases, the sensuality that rejoices me, the antipathy that makes me avoid those i do not like. _never mind! i am resolved; i still wish to be holy!_ then, i shall have to experience long hours of weariness, sadness, and discontent. i shall often feel lonely and discouraged. _never mind! i am resolved; i wish to be holy!_ for then i shall have thee always with me, ever near me. lord, help me, for i want to be holy! * * * * * how to become holy oh! it is quite easy, if i fulfil every duty to the best of my ability; and many who had no more to do than i have become saints. one day is the same as another. prayer, worldly business, calls to be devout, charitable, and faithful,--these are the duties that each hour brings in its turn; and if i am faithful in their fulfilment, god will be always ready to help me, and then what signifies a little ennui, pain, or misfortune? * * * * * the sanctification of daily duties i will perform them as in god's sight, conscious that he is present, and smiling on my efforts. i will perform each as if i had but one to accomplish, striving to render it as perfect as possible. i will fulfil each duty as if upon that one alone depended my salvation. * * * * * motives for sanctifying my actions god expects me to honor him by that action. god has attached a special blessing to that action, and awaits its fulfilment to bestow it. god notes each action; and of them all hereafter i must give an account. god will see that i love him, if i strive to fulfil every duty, in spite of weariness and trouble. i honor god by this action; and i, poor, weak, sinful child, am allowed to glorify him, in place of those who blaspheme and rebel against the divine will. xxix. they say there is nothing which communicates itself so quickly amongst the members of a family as an expression of coldness or discontent on the face of one of its members. it is like the frost that chills us. this is not altogether true; there is something which is communicated with equal rapidity and greater force--i mean the smiling face, the beaming countenance, the happy heart. xxx. little worries there is not a day in our lives that we are not distressed by some one of those numberless little worries that meet us at every step, and which are inevitable. the wound made may not be deep; but the constant pricks, each day renewed, imbitter the character, destroy peace, create anxiety, and make the family life, that otherwise would be so sweet and peaceful, almost unendurable. life is full of these little miseries. each hour brings with it its own trouble. here are some of the little worries: an impatient word escapes our lips in the presence of some one in whose estimation we would stand well. a servant does his work badly, fidgets us by his slowness, irritates us by his thoughtlessness, and his awkward blunders make us blush. a giddy child in its clumsiness breaks something of value, or that we treasure on account of its associations; we are charged with a message of importance, and our forgetfulness makes us appear uncourteous, perhaps ungrateful; some one we live with is constantly finding fault, nothing pleases them. if, when night comes, we find we have not experienced these little worries, then we ought to be grateful to god. each of these, and many more, are liable to befall us every day of our life. * * * * * how to bear little worries in the first place, expect them. make them the subject of our morning prayers, and say to ourselves, here is my daily cross, do i accept willingly? surely! for it is god who sends it. after all ... these little troubles, looked at calmly, what are they? ah, if there were never any worse! secondly, we must be prepared for them. you know, if you wish to break the force of a blow falling on you, you naturally bend the body; so let us act with regard to our souls. accustom yourself, wrote a pious author, to stoop with sweet condescension, not only to exigencies (that is your duty), but to the simple wishes of those who surround you--the accidents which may intervene; you will find yourself seldom, if ever, crushed. to _bend_ is better than to _bear_; to bear is often a little hard; to bend implies a certain external sweetness that yields all constraint, sacrificing the wishes, even in holy things, when they tend to cause disagreements in the family circle. submission often implies an entire resignation to all that god permits. the soul that endures feels the weight of its trouble. the soul that yields scarcely perceives it. blessed are those docile ones; they are those whom god selects to work for him. xxxi. to obtain peace approach the blessed sacrament, o restless soul, in search of peace, and, humbly kneeling there, pour forth bravely, slowly, and with earnest desire, the following prayer:-- o jesus, gentle and humble of heart, hear me! from the desire of being esteemed, from the desire of being loved, from the desire to be sought, deliver me, jesus. from the desire to be mourned, from the desire of praise, from the desire of preference, from the desire of influence, from the desire of approval, from the desire of authority, from the fear of humiliation, from the fear of being despised, from the fear of repulse, from the fear of calumny, from the fear of oblivion, from the fear of ridicule, from the fear of injury, from the fear of suspicion, deliver me, jesus. that others may be loved more than myself. jesus grant this desire. that others may be more highly esteemed. that others may grow and increase in honor, and i decrease. jesus, grant me to desire it. that others may be employed, and i set aside. jesus, grant me to desire this. that others may attract the praise, and myself be forgotten. that others may be preferred in all. grant me the utmost holiness of which i am capable, then let others be holier than myself. jesus, grant me to desire it! oh, if god hearkens,--and hearken he surely will, if your prayer has been sincere,--what joy in your heart, what peace on your countenance, what sweetness will pervade your whole life! more than half one's troubles arise from an exaggerated idea of one's own importance, and the efforts we make to increase our position in the world. lacordaire says, that the sweetest thing on earth is to be forgotten by all, with the exception of those who love us. all else brings more trouble than joy; and as soon as we have completed our task here, and fulfilled our mission, the best thing for us to do is to disappear altogether. * * * * * let us each cultivate carefully and joyously the portion of soil providence has committed to our care. let us never be hindered or distracted by ambitious thoughts, that we could do better, or a false zeal tempting us to forsake our daily task with the vain desire to surpass our neighbors.... let this one thought occupy our minds. to do _well_ what is given us to do, for this is all that god requires at our hands. it may be summed up in four words,--simply, zealously, cheerfully, completely. * * * * * then if we _are_ slighted, misunderstood, maligned, or persecuted, what does it matter? these injuries will pass away; but the peace and love of god will remain with us forever, the reward of our faith and patience. the love of god! who can describe all the joy, strength, and consolation it reveals? never has human love, in its brightest dreams, been able to form any idea of all the sweetness the love of god imparts to the soul, and which is brought still nearer to us in the blessed sacrament. i can well understand the words of a loving soul: "with heaven so near, and daily communion with our god, how can we ever repine!" xxxii. after holy communion our father which art in heaven o jesus! it is thou who biddest me say, father! _my father!_ oh how that name rejoices my heart! _my father!_ i can no longer feel alone; and whatever may happen to me this day, i feel i am protected, comforted, beloved. jesus! let me dwell on the sweetness of those words: _my father!_ i need not lift my eyes to heaven, thou art within me, and where thou dwellest heaven must be. yes! heaven is within me! heaven with all its peace and love; and if i keep free from guile this day, my day will be one of heavenly joy, and in addition, the privilege of suffering for thee. hallowed be thy name to hallow thy name, o lord, is to pronounce it with reverence and awe. to-day i will pray more fervently, try to realize thy presence, thy goodness, thy love; and my heart shall be a sanctuary into which nothing shall penetrate that could be displeasing unto thee. to _hallow thy name_ is to call upon it fervently, to have it constantly upon my lips; above all, before taking an important step, when there are difficulties to be overcome, i will softly whisper the invocation, which is the secret of all holy living! "jesus, meek and humble of heart, have pity upon me." thy kingdom come o jesus, thy kingdom is within my heart, reign there in all thy sovereignty and power, reign there absolutely! my king! what dost thou require of me to-day? thy commandments, my rule of life, my daily duties,--these are thy commands that i will promise to obey; more than that, i will regard all in authority over me as thine ambassadors, speaking to me in thy name. what matters the tone or the harshness of the order? what does it signify if some unexpected command upsets all my previous plans? it is thy voice i hear, thou lord, whom i will obey always, and in all things. thy kingdom is also in the hearts of others; and there would i see thee reigning. then to whom can i speak of thee this day? what counsels can i give? what moments may i seize, in which, without wounding the feelings, or parading my zeal, i may be allowed to speak a few words of piety? lord, let me have the opportunity to help another to love thee! thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven yes, yes! thy will be done! thy sweet all-perfect will! what wilt thou send me to-day? humiliation? provocation? sufferings? a fresh rending of the heart? a disappointment? shall i see myself misjudged, falsely suspected, despised? i accept beforehand all that thou sendest me; and if through weakness i weep, suffer it to be so; if i murmur, check me; if i am vexed, correct me; if hopeless, encourage me. yes, yes! let thy sweet and holy will be done! even, o lord, if to glorify thee, i must be humiliated, suffering, useless, and forsaken, still, lord, stay not thine hand, i am wholly thine. give us this day our daily bread how blessed, o lord, to depend only upon thee ... behold me, thy child, waiting with outstretched hand to receive thy benefits. grant me my temporal blessings,--clothing, nourishment, shelter ... but not too much of anything; and let me have the happiness of sharing my blessings with those poorer than myself to-day. grant me the blessing of intelligence, that i may read, or hear one of those golden counsels that elevate the soul, and lend wings to the thoughts. grant me the loving heart, o my father! that i may feel for a moment how i love thee, and thy love towards me; let me sacrifice myself for the welfare of another. give me the bread of life, the holy eucharist! i have just received it, lord! grant me again ere long that great blessing. and then, give all these blessings to those i love, and who love me! forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us when i pronounce the word of pardon, what a weight seems lifted from my heart. i will not only banish every feeling of hatred, i will efface every painful remembrance. o god, if thou forgivest me, as i forgive others, what mercy for me! thou seest i bear no malice, that i forget all injuries.... i have been offended by _words_; i forget them; by actions, i forget them; by omissions, thoughts, desires; they are all forgotten. ah! in all these ways i have offended thee, and thou wilt forget, even as i have forgotten. i will be very merciful, so that thou mayst have mercy upon me. lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil now, as i leave thine altar, i go to encounter temptation. o saviour! help me, keep me, and warn me of my danger! let me shun all occasions of evil, and if by weakness or allurements i am led into paths of sin, if i fall, oh! rescue me speedily, that i may fall upon my knees, confessing my sin, and imploring pardon. sin! this is the evil from which i beseech thee to deliver me; other troubles that may happen, i accept; they are sent to try me and to purify, and come from thee; but sin, i have no pleasure in it! oh! when in the hour of temptation i fall away, lord, hearken to the cry that i now raise to thee in all sincerity; i _will_ it not! it is not wilful! i go from thy presence, but, jesus, thou art with me! in work, in prayer, in suffering, let all be done in thee! xxxiii. "mother," asked a child, "since nothing is ever lost, where do all our thoughts go?" "to god," answered the mother gravely, "who remembers them forever." "forever!" said the child. he bent his head, and, drawing closer to his mother, murmured, "i am frightened!" which of us have not felt the same? xxxiv. one more solemn thought: how old are you? nineteen. have you reckoned the number of minutes that have elapsed since your birth? the number is startling: nine millions, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred.... each of those minutes has flown to god; god has examined them and weighed them, and for them you must give account. each minute bears its own impress (as a coin bears the impress of the sovereign), and only those marked with the image of god will avail you for eternity. is not this thought one to make you tremble? "i never could understand," writes guérin, "the feeling of security some have that their works must find favor with god--as if our duties were confined to the narrow limits of this little world. to be a good son, statesman, or brother, is not all that is required of us; god demands far more than this from those for whom he has destined a crown of glory hereafter." xxxv. one great characteristic of holiness is never to be exacting, never to complain. each complaint drags us down a degree in our upward course. by complaining, i do not mean the simple imparting of our troubles to others. complaint savors always of a little bad temper, and a slightly vindictive spirit. * * * * * the saints were never exacting. contented with their lot, they never desired anything that was withheld from them. "i have asked," said a holy soul, "for something i thought needful; they have forgotten to answer me, or perhaps would not bestow it. why need i be disquieted? if it were really necessary, god would quickly provide means to obtain it." how few could enter into this feeling; and yet it is but the echo of christ's own words, "your father in heaven knoweth that ye have need of all these things." xxxvi. joy in life is like oil in a lamp. when the oil gets low the wick is consumed, emitting a black vapor, and sending forth only a lurid glow, which does not give light. a life without joy passes away unprofitably, shedding around it only gloom and sorrow. if every morning in a simple prayer,--in those fifteen minutes' meditation (which only seem hard when we do not practise it),--we opened our hearts to god, as we open our windows to the sun and air, god would fill it with that calm, sweet joy which elevates the soul, prevents it feeling the weight of troubles, and makes it overflow with benevolence. but joy does not mean levity, witty sayings, or repartee ... it is habitual serenity. through a clear atmosphere we can always see the sky; it seems so light and full of elasticity. a serene sky is always pure ... clouds may pass across it, but they do not stain it. so it is with the heart that early in the morning opens to receive god's peace. xxxvii. "you are never out of temper," was once said to a woman well known to be much tried at home; "is it that you do not feel the injustice, the annoyances?"--"i feel them as much as you do," she replied; "but they do not hurt me."--"you have, then, some special balm?"--"yes; for the vexations caused by people, i have _affection_; for those of circumstances, i have prayer; and over every wound that bleeds, i murmur the words, 'thy will be done.'" xxxviii. my daily cross if i have no cross to bear to-day, i shall not advance heavenwards. a cross (that is, anything that disturbs our peace) is the spur which stimulates, and without which we should most likely remain stationary, blinded with empty vanities, and sinking deeper into sin. a cross helps us onwards, in spite of our apathy and resistance. to lie quietly on a bed of down may seem a very sweet existence, but pleasant ease and rest are not the lot of a christian; if he would mount higher and higher, it must be by a rough road. alas, for those who have no daily cross! alas, for those who repine and fret against it! * * * * * what will be my cross to-day? perhaps that person, with whom providence has placed me, and whom i dislike, whose look of disdain humiliates me, whose slowness worries me, who makes me jealous by being more beloved, more successful, than myself, whose chatter and lightheartedness, even her very attentions to myself, annoy me. or it may be that person that i think has quarrelled with me, and my imagination makes me fancy myself watched, criticised, turned into ridicule. she is always with me; all my efforts to separate are frustrated; by some mysterious power she is always present, always near. * * * * * this is my heaviest cross; the rest are light in comparison. circumstances change, temptations diminish, troubles lessen; but those people who trouble or offend us are an ever-present source of irritation. how to bear this daily cross never manifest, in any way, the ennui, the dislike, the involuntary shudder, that her presence produces; force myself to render her some little service--never mind if she never knows it; it is between god and myself. try to say a little good of her every day, of her talents, her character, her tact, for there is all that to be found in her. pray earnestly for her, even asking god to help me to love her, and to spare her to me. dear companion! blessed messenger of god's mercy! you are, without knowing it, the means for my sanctification, and i will not be ungrateful. yes! though the exterior be rude and repellent, yet to you i owe it that i am kept from greater sin; you, against whom my whole nature rebels ... how i ought to love you! xxxix. who is anxious for a beloved one's eternal welfare? we interest ourselves for their success, their prosperity; we ask god to keep them from harm and misfortune; we try to start them well in the world, to make them of reputation, to procure them pleasure. to spare them trouble, we sacrifice our own ease and enjoyment.... oh, that is all very beautiful, very right; but what should we do for the soul? do we pray to god that this soul may become humble, pure, devoted? do we take as much pains to procure him the little devotional book that will really help him, as we should to obtain a transient pleasure? do we help him, unseen, towards that act of charity, humiliation, or self-renunciation? have we courage not to spare the soul the trial that we know will purify? does it seem too hard for you? ah! then you do not know what real love is. does not god love us? yet god lets us suffer; even sends the suffering. love is given us to help us onwards, nearer to god. the most blessed is that which draws us nearest to him; and in proportion as it leads to god we realize its blessedness. the essence of true love is not its _tenderness_, but its strength, power of endurance, its purity, its self-renunciation. the mistake we make is when we seek to be beloved, instead of loving. what makes us cowardly is the fear of losing that love. never forget this: a selfish heart desires love for itself; a christian heart delights to love--without return. xl. to learn never to waste our time is perhaps one of the most difficult virtues to acquire. a well-spent day is a source of pleasure. to be constantly employed, and never asking, "what shall i do?" is the secret of much goodness and happiness. begin, then, with promptitude, act decisively, persevere; if interrupted, be amiable, and return to the work unruffled, finish it carefully--these will be the signs of a virtuous soul. xli. are you full of peace? _pray!_ prayer will preserve it to you. are you tempted? _pray!_ prayer will sustain you. have you fallen? _pray!_ prayer will raise you. are you discouraged? _pray!_ prayer will reassure and comfort you. xlii. the young are seldom forbearing, because they so little understand the frailties of poor human nature. oh! if you could only witness the terrible struggles passing in the heart of that friend whose vivacity annoys you, whose fickleness provokes you, whose faults sometimes even make you blush.... oh! if you saw the tears that are shed in secret, the vexation felt against self (perhaps on your account), you would indeed pity them. love them! make allowances for them! never let them feel that you know their failings. to make any one believe himself good, is to help him almost in spite of self to become so. * * * * * forbearance is even _more_ than forgiveness; it is excusing, putting always the best construction upon everything; above all, never showing that some proceeding has wounded us; speaking of any one who has vexed us thus: "she did not think, else she would have acted differently; she never meant to pain me, she loves me too much; she was perhaps unable to do otherwise, and yet suffers at the thought of having displeased me." for a wounded heart no balm is so efficacious as forbearance. _to forbear_ is to forget every night the little vexations of the past day; to say every morning: "to-day i shall be braver and calmer than yesterday." forbearance even sometimes leads us to detect in ourselves a little want of good nature, condescension, and charity. _to forbear_ is not only freely to forgive, but to meet half-way, with extended hand, those who timidly ask for pardon. xliii. my friend, do you know why the work you accomplish fails either to give pleasure to yourself or others? it is because it is not cheerfully done, and therefore appears discolored. a joyous heart amid our work imparts to duty a brilliancy that charms the eyes of others, while it prevents those feeling wounded who cannot perform it equally well. joy, with us, is like a lever, by which we lift the weights that without its help would crush us. a workman once said: "if i were to leave off singing, i should be quite unequal to my business." then sing always; let your heart sing as in its earliest years. the refrain of the heart, which perhaps never passes the lips, but which echoes in heaven, is this sentence:-- "i love and i am beloved!" xliv. what regret we sometimes feel, after the death or departure of friends, at never having shown them the respect, the gratitude, we felt towards them, and how from the depths of our heart we are filled with tenderness and affection for them! it may have been that at times we could not speak, because we thought too much of _how_ to say it. another time we lost the opportunity, because we were always shirking it. deep devotion is sometimes a little erratic; always afraid of doing too little, doing it badly or inopportunely. oftener still the tokens of affection are checked, because we think we could show it in some better way; we put off till brighter days the dreams we cherished, the sweet yearning to open the heart to the loved ones, and let them see for once what a large place they fill there. alas! the days fly past, suddenly comes death, or, sadder still, separation without hope of return, leaving the bitter thought: "others will show them better than i have done, how dear, how valued, they are." ah! when we can be loving _to-day_, never let us say, "i will love to-morrow;" when we have the opportunity of being grateful, never put off, for _one_ hour, the proof of our gratitude! * * * * * conclusion lacordaire, in preparing for a retreat in the country, said he only required for his realization of a dream of happiness and solitude, three things,--( ) god; ( ) a friend; ( ) books. _god!_--we never fail to find him when we are pure, holy, and fulfilling hourly our duty. _a friend!_--responds always to the heart's call, if only that heart be loving and devoted. _books!_--oh! if only this little book of _gold dust_ might be allowed to form one of the numbers of those that are carried away, far from the world's turmoil, and read in order to gain a little help and peace! it will take up _so_ little room! gold dust _second part_ i. the friendly whisper under this title we commence a series of short counsels for each day of the week, which will be as a friendly whisper, the voice of a guardian angel, inspiring, as occasion presents itself, some good action, some self-denial, some little sacrifice. we recommend that it should be placed on the writing-table, in the book we most frequently turn to, or wherever it is most likely to meet the eye. what is so often the one thing wanting to some devout person devoted to doing good? simply to be _reminded_. monday charity be good-natured, benevolent, keep up a cheerful expression of countenance, even when alone. that clumsiness, those brusque, rude manners, let them pass without notice. when wishes contrary to your own prevail, yield without ill-humor, or even showing your effort; you will give pleasure, and thus be pleased yourself. try to please, to console, to amuse, to bestow, to thank, to help. that is all in itself so good! try to do some good to the souls of others! an earnest word, some encouragement, a prayer softly breathed. overcome your dislike and aversion to certain persons; do not shun them, on the contrary go and meet them. god goes before you. be courteous even to the troublesome individual who is always in your way. god sends him to you. forgive at once. do you believe harm was intended? if so, is it not the greater merit? do not refuse your alms, only let your motives be pure; and in giving, give as to god. do not judge the guilty harshly; pity, and pray for them. why imagine evil intentions against yourself? cannot you see how the thought troubles and disquiets you? check the ironical smile hovering about your lips; you will grieve the object of it. why cause any one pain? lend yourself to all. god will not suffer you to be taken advantage of if you are prompted by the spirit of charity. tuesday the divine presence never separate yourself from god. how sweet it is to live always near those who love us! you cannot see god, but he is there; just as if some friend were separated from you by a curtain, which does not prevent his seeing you, and which at any moment may unfold and disclose him to your view. when the soul is unstained by sin, and if we remain still and recollected, we can perceive god's presence in the heart, just as we see daylight penetrating a room. we may not be always conscious of this presence, but imperceptibly it influences all our actions. oh! however heavy may be the burden you have to bear, does it not at once become light beneath the gaze of that father's eye? the thought of god is never wearisome; why not always cherish it? go on, without trembling, beneath the eye of god; never fear to smile, love, hope, and enjoy all that makes life sweet. god rejoices in our pleasures as a mother in the joys of her child. what is contrary to god's will, grieves him, and does you harm, that alone you need fear,--the thought that will stain your soul; the wish that troubles your heart; that unwholesome action, that will weaken your intellect, and destroy your peace. never long for what god sees fit to deny. god, beside you, will repair your blunders, provide means whereby you may atone for that sinful action by one more virtuous, wipe away the tears caused by some unmerited reproof or unkind word. you have only to close your eyes for a moment, examine yourself, and softly murmur, "lord, help me!" can you not hear god's voice speaking to you? what! when he says: _bear this, i am here to aid thee_; you will refuse? he says: _continue another half-hour the work that wearies thee_; and you would stop? he says: _do not that_; and you do it? he says: _let us tread together the path of obedience_; and you answer: no? wednesday self-renunciation do not be afraid of that word _renunciation_. to you, perhaps, it only means, weariness, restraint, ennui. but it means also, love, perfection, sanctification. * * * * * who cannot renounce, cannot love. who cannot renounce, cannot become perfect. who cannot renounce, cannot be made holy. * * * * * _self-renunciation_ means devotion to our duty, going on with it in spite of difficulties, disgust, ennui, want of success. _self-renunciation_ is self-sacrifice, under whatever form it presents itself,--_prayer_, _labor_, _love_ ... all that would be an obstacle, not merely to its accomplishment, but its perfection. _self-renunciation_ is to root out all that encumbers the heart, all that impedes the free action of the holy spirit within--longings after an imaginary perfection or well-being, unreal sentiments that trouble us in prayer, in work, in slumber, that fascinate us, but the result of which is to destroy all real application. _self-renunciation_ is to resist all the allurements of the senses, that would only give pleasure to self, and satisfy the conscience, by whispering, "_it is no sin._" _self-renunciation_, in short, is destroying, even at the risk of much heart-rending, all in our heart, mind, imagination, that could be displeasing to god. renunciation is not one single action, that when once accomplished we experience relief; it means a constant _sacrifice_, _restraint_, _resisting_, _rending_, each hour, each moment, during our whole life. but is not this a worry, a continual torment? no; not if the moving spring be love or godly fear.... do you consider it a trouble when you make yourself less comfortable to make room for a friend who visits you? well! there are times when god would make you sensible of his presence. he is with you, and to retain him close, who is all purity, will you not be more modest in your behavior? if you would receive him into your heart at holy communion, will you not make room for him, by rooting out that affection he has pointed out to you as dangerous, that interest, that desire, that worldly, sensual attachment? oh! if you only _really_ loved. would you call it _torture_ or _constraint_, the energy with which you shatter some poisoned cup you were almost enticed to drink? well! when encountering the attractive enjoyment, the material delight, which might lead you astray, or the siren voice which would allure you from your duty for a moment--then when conscience whispers, "_beware_," ... would you be cowardly? alas, it is slowly and surely that the stream carries on to destruction the blossom that has fallen into its current. it is little by little that pleasure leads on to sin the heart that lets itself be lulled by its charms. thursday submission as soon as you awake in the morning, try to realize god stretching forth his hand towards you, and saying, _dost thou really desire that i should watch over thee this day?_ and you lift up your hands towards this kind father, and say to him, "yes, yes, lead me, guide me, love me; i will be very submissive!" beneath god's protecting hand, is it possible that you can be sorrowful, fearful, unhappy? no; god will allow no suffering, no trial, above what you are able to bear. then pass through the day, quietly and calmly, even as when a little child you had your mother always beside you. you need only be careful about _one_ thing, _never to displease god_, and you will see how lovingly god will direct all that concerns you--material interests, sympathies, worldly cares; you will be astonished at the sudden enlightenment that will come to you, and the wondrous peace that will result from your labor and your toil. then, welcome trial, sickness, ennui, privations, injustice ... all of it can only come directed by god's hand, and will wound the soul only in order to cleanse some spot within. would your mother have given you a bitter dose merely for the sake of causing you suffering? if your duty is hard, owing either to its difficulty or the distaste you feel towards it, lift your heart to god and say, "_lord, help me_," ... then go on with it, even though you seem to do it imperfectly. should one of those moments of vague misgivings, that leave the soul as it were in utter darkness, come to overwhelm you, call upon god, as a child in terror cries out to its mother. if you have sinned, oh! even then be not afraid of the merciful god, but with eyes full of tears, say to him, "pardon me" ... and add softly, "chastise me soon, o lord!" yes, yes, dear one, be always at peace, going on quietly with your daily duties ... more than that, be always joyous. and why not? you who have no longer a mother to love you, and yet crave for love, god will be as a mother. you who have no brother to help you, and have so much need of support, god will be your brother. you who have no friends to comfort you, and stand so much in need of consolation, god will be your friend. preserve always the _childlike simplicity_ which goes direct to god, and speak to him as you would speak to your mother. keep that open _confidence_ that tells him your projects, troubles, joys, as you tell them to a brother. cherish those _loving words_ that speak of all the happiness you feel, living in dependence upon him, and trusting in his love, just as you would tell it to the friend of your childhood. keep the _generous heart of childhood_ which gives all you have to god. let him freely take whatever he pleases, all within and around you. will only what he wills, desiring only what is in accordance with his will, and finding nothing impossible that he commands. do you not feel something soothing and consoling in these thoughts? the longer you live, the better you will understand that true happiness is only to be found in a life devoted to god, and given up entirely to his guidance. no! no! none can harm you, unless it be god's will, and if he allows it; be patient and humble, weep if your heart is sore, but love always, and wait ... the trial will pass away, but god will remain yours forever. friday prayer oh, if you only knew what it is to pray! oh, if god would only give you the grace to love prayer! what peace to your soul, what love in your heart! what joy would shine in your countenance, even though the tears streamed from your eyes! _prayer_, as the first cry escapes the lips, indicates to god that some one would speak to him, and god, so good and gracious, is ever ready to listen (with all reverence we say it), with the prompt attention of a faithful servant, he manifests himself to the soul with ineffable love, and says to it, "behold me, thou hast called me, what dost thou desire of me?" _to pray_ is to remain, so long as our prayer lasts, in the presence of god, with the certainty that we can never weary him, no matter what may be the subject of our prayer, or at those times when we are speechless, and as in the case of the good peasant quoted by the curé d'ars, we are content to place ourselves before god, with only the recollection of his presence. _to pray_ is to act towards god as the child does to its mother, the poor man towards the rich, eager to do him good, the friend towards his friend, who longs to show him affection. _prayer_ is the key to all celestial treasures; by it we penetrate into the midst of all the joy, strength, mercy, and goodness divine, ... we receive our well-being from all around us, as the sponge plunged into the ocean imbibes without an effort the water that surrounds it ... this joy, strength, mercy, and goodness become our own. oh, yes! if you knew how to pray, and loved prayer, how good, useful, fruitful, and meritorious would be your life! nothing so elevates the soul as prayer. god, so condescending to the soul, raises it with him to the regions of light and love, and then, the prayer finished, the soul returns to its daily duties with a more enlightened mind, a more earnest will. it is filled with radiance divine, and sheds of its abundance upon all who approach. if you would succeed in your study, with the success that sanctifies, _pray_ before commencing. if you would succeed in your intercourse with others, pray before becoming intimate. nothing so smooths and sweetens life as _prayer_. there is the _solitary_ prayer, when the soul isolated from all creatures is alone with god and feels thus towards him: "god and i;" _god_ to love; _i_ to adore, praise, glorify, thank. _god_ to bestow, _i_ humbly to receive, to renounce, ask, hope, submit!... ah! who can tell all that passes between the soul and its god? there is the _united_ prayer of two friends, bound together by a holy friendship, their desires and thoughts are one, and as one they present themselves before god, crying, "have mercy upon me!" there is the prayer of two hearts separated by distance, made at the same hour in the same words. soothing prayer, that each day reunites those two sad hearts torn by the agony of parting, and who in god's presence, strengthened with the same holy spirit, recover courage to tread the road to heaven, each in its appointed sphere. then there is public prayer, that which has the special promise of god's presence; prayer so comforting to the feeble, guilty soul, who can cry in very truth, "my prayer ascends to god, supported by the prayers of others." oh! if you knew how to pray, and loved prayer, how happy and faithful would be your life! saturday earnestness you love god, do you not, dear one, whom god surrounds with so much affection? yes, yes! i love him! and how do you prove to him your love? i keep myself pure and innocent, so that his eye falling upon me may never see anything that displeases him. i keep myself calm and quiet, and force myself to smile that he may see i am contented. _that is right, but that is not enough._ i think often of how much i owe him, and apply myself diligently to the work he has given me to do; i bear patiently with those i dislike, with troubles that irritate me; when i am weak i call upon him, when timid i draw near to him, when sinful i implore pardon, and strive to do my duty more faithfully. _that is right, but that is not enough._ i lend myself to the importunities of others. i am as a slave to those who need me, and take care never to judge any one harshly. _that is right, but still it is not enough._ ah! then what more can i do, good angel, thus addressing me, what can i do to show my love to god? devote thyself to doing good to the souls of others. oh, if you knew how it pleases god to see you laboring for them! it is like the joy of a mother, every time she sees some one benefiting her child. how thankful she is to those who nursed it in sickness, spared it pain, showed it some token of affection, a counsel, a warning, that gave it pleasure, by a kind word, a plaything, a smile! all this you may do in that circle, more or less extended, in which you live. leave to god's minister, if you will, the work of converting souls, and limit your efforts to doing good by bringing yourself into communion with them. to do so, means sweetly, unconsciously, softly, speak to them of god, carry them to god, lead them to god. this may be done by gently, tenderly--by inference as it were--speaking to them of god, thus leading them towards him, bringing them into contact with him. hearts are drawn together by talking of their kindred pursuits, souls by speaking of heavenly things. it is not necessary for this purpose to pronounce the name of god; it will suffice that the words shall lift the soul beyond this material world and its sensual enjoyments, and raise them upwards to that supernatural atmosphere necessary to the real life. speak of the happiness of devotion, the charm of purity, the blessing of the few minutes' meditation at the feet of jesus, the peace procured by entire resignation to providence, and the sweetness of a life spent beneath god's fatherly eye, the comfort the thought of heaven brings in the midst of trouble, the hope of the meeting again above, the certainty of eternal happiness. this is doing good to others, drawing them nearer to god, and teaching them more and more of holiness. limit your efforts to this; later on i will tell you what more you may do. sunday sympathy welcome with joy each week the day that god has called his day. to each day of the week god has given its special mission, its share of pleasure and of pain, necessary to purify and fortify and prepare us for eternity. but _sunday_ is a day of _love_. on saturday we lay aside our garments faded and stained by toil, and on sunday we array ourselves in garments, not only fresher, but more choice and graceful. why not prepare the heart, even as we do the body? during the week has not the heart been wearied with petty strife and discontent, interests marred, bitter words? then, why not shake off all this, that only chills affection? on the saturday let us forgive freely, press the hand warmly, embrace each other; and then peace being restored within, we await the morrow's awakening. sunday is god's day of truce for all. that day, laying aside all revenge and ill-feeling, we must be filled with forbearance, indulgence, and amiability. oh! how good for us to feel _obliged_ to be reconciled, and each sunday renews the obligation. let us leave no time for coldness and indifference to grow upon us ... it only engenders hatred, and that once established in the heart, oh! how hard is it to cast out again! it is like a hideous cancer whose ravages no remedies can stay. it is as the venomous plant that the gardener can never entirely eradicate. only by a miracle can hatred be destroyed. at once then let us place a barrier in our hearts against the approach of coolness or indifference, and each saturday night the head of the family shall thus address us: "children, to-night we forgive, to-night we forget, and to-morrow begin life afresh in love, one towards another." ii. when i have sinned, wrote a pious soul, i feel chastisement will fall upon me, and as if i could hide myself from god's eye. i _shrink_ into myself, and then i pray, i pray, and the chastisement not being sent, i again expand. _chastisement_ is like a stone threatening to crush me; _prayer_ is the hand that withholds it while i make atonement. oh! how can those live peacefully who never pray? iii. our dead they are not all there--our dead--buried in the churchyard, beneath the grave, o'ershadowed by a cross, and round which the roses bloom. there are others which nothing can recall; they are things which belong to the _heart_ alone, and there alas! have found a tomb. peace surrounds me to-day; and here in my lone chamber i will invoke them, my much-loved dead. come! * * * * * the first that present themselves are _the sweet years of childhood_, so fresh, so guileless, so happy. they were made up of loving caresses, bountiful rewards, and fearless confidence: the words, _pain_, _danger_, _care_, were unknown; they brought me simple pleasures, happy days without a thought for the morrow, and only required from me a little obedience. alas! they are dead ... and what numberless things have they carried with them! what a void they have left! candor, lightheartedness, simplicity, no longer find a place within! family ties, so true, so wide, so light, have all vanished! the homely hearth, the simple reward earned by the day's industry, maternal chidings, forgiveness so ingenuously sought, so freely given, promises of amendment, so sincere, so joyously received.... is this all gone forever? can i never recall them? the vision that follows is that of my _early piety_, simple and full of faith, which was as some good angel o'ershadowing me with its snowy wings, and showing me god everywhere, in all, and with all. the good god, who each day provides my daily bread! the god, who spared my mother in sickness, and relieved her when she suffered--god, who shielded me from harm when i did right! the god, who sees all, knows all, and is omnipotent, whom i loved with all my heart. alas! faithful, simple piety, thou art dead; in innocence alone couldst thou live! next comes _the love of my earliest years_. love in childhood, love in youth, so full of true, simple joy, that initiated me in the sweet pleasure of devotion, that taught me self-denial in order to give pleasure, that destroyed all egotism, by showing me the happiness of living for others. love of my childhood, love of my youth, so pure, so holy, on which i always reckoned when they spoke to me of trouble, loneliness, depression ... thou also art dead. an involuntary coolness, an unfounded suspicion never cleared, an ill-natured story ... all these have destroyed that child of heaven. i knew it was tender, and i cherished it, but i could not believe it to be so frail. i could make a long list of all the dead enshrined in my heart! oh, you who are still young, upon whom god has lavished all the gifts that are lost to me,--candor, simplicity, innocence, love, devotion ... guard, oh, guard these treasures, and that they may never die, place them beneath the shelter of _prayer_. iv. the spiritual life what a sweet life is that! the maintaining, strengthening it, has a softening influence; and it is a labor that never wearies, never deceives, but gives each day fresh cause for joy. in the language of devotion, it is called the _interior life_; and it is our purpose to point out minutely its nature, excellence, means, and hindrances. let no one think the interior life is incompatible with the life domestic and social, which is often so engrossing; just as the action of the heart maintained by the constant flow of blood in no way affects the outward movements, so is it with the life of the soul, which consists chiefly in the action of god's holy spirit within, that never hinders our social duties, but on the contrary is a help towards fulfilling them more calmly, more perfectly. * * * * * nature of the interior life the interior life is an abiding sense of god's presence, a constant union with him. we learn to look upon the heart as the temple where god dwells, sometimes glorious as above, sometimes hidden as in the holy eucharist; and we act, think, speak, and fulfil all our duties, as in his presence. its aim is to shun sin, and cultivate a detachment from all earthly things by a spirit of poverty; sensual pleasures by purity and mortification; pride by humility; dissipation by recollection. as a rule, people are prejudiced against an interior life. some are afraid of it, and look upon it as a life of bondage, sacrifice, and restraint: others despise it, as nothing but a multiplicity of trifling rules, tending only to narrow-mindedness and uselessness, and fit only for weak minds. in consequence they are on their guard against it, and avoid the books that treat of it. they would serve god no doubt, but they will not subject themselves to the entire guidance of his spirit; in short, it is far easier to bring a soul from a state of sin to that of grace, than it is to lead a busy, active, zealous person to the hidden, contemplative life of the soul. * * * * * excellence of the interior life god dwelling within us, the life of christ himself, when on earth, living always in his father's presence. it is the life of which s. paul speaks when he says, "nevertheless i live; yet not i, but christ liveth in me." all saints must lead this life, and their degree of holiness is in proportion to the perfection of their union with god. christ animates their souls, even as the soul animates the body. they own christ as master, counsellor, and guide; and nothing is done without submitting it to him, and imploring his aid and approval. christ is their strength, their refuge, their defender. they live in constant dependence upon him, as their father, protector, and all-powerful king. they are drawn to him, as the child is drawn by love, the poor by need. they let themselves be guided by him, as the blind let themselves be led by the child in whom they confide; they bear all suffering that comes from him, as the sick, in order to be healed, bear suffering at the hands of a physician; and they lean on him, as the child leans on its mother's breast. it lifts them above the troubles and miseries of life; the whole world may seem a prey to calamities; themselves, deprived of their goods through injustice or accident; they lose their relations through death, their friends through treachery or forgetfulness, their reputation and honor from slander, a serious illness deprives them of health, their happiness is destroyed by hardness and temptations.... ah! no doubt, they will have these trials, no doubt they must shed bitter tears, but still god's peace will remain to them, the peace that passeth all understanding; they will realize god has ordered it, guided it with his hand divine, and they will be able to exclaim with joy, "thou art left to us, and thou art all-sufficient!" * * * * * acts of the interior life . _see god_, that is to say, be always realizing his presence, feeling him near, as the friend from whom we would never be separated, in work, in prayer, in recreation, in repose. god is not importunate, he never wearies, he is so gracious and merciful, his hand directs everything, and he will not "suffer us to be tempted above that we are able." . _listen to god_: be attentive to his counsels, his warnings; we hear his voice in those gospel words that recur to our minds, in the good thoughts that suddenly dawn on us, the devout words that meet us in some book, on a sheet of paper, or falling from the lips of a preacher, a friend, or even a stranger. . _speak to god_: hold converse with him, more with the heart than the lips, in the early morning's meditation, ejaculatory prayer, vocal prayer, and above all in holy communion. . _love god_: be devoted to him, and him alone; have no affection apart from him; restrain the love that would estrange us from him; _lend_ ourselves to all, out of love to him, but _give_ ourselves to him alone. . _think of god_: reject whatever excludes the thought of him. of course, we must fulfil our daily duties, accomplishing them with all the perfection of which we are capable; but they must be done as beneath the eye of god, with the thought that god has commanded them, and that to do them carefully is pleasing in his sight. * * * * * means by which to attain the interior life . _great tenderness of conscience_, secured by constant, regular, and earnest confession to god, a hatred of all sin, imperfection, infidelity, by calmly but resolutely fleeing every occasion of it. . _great purity of heart_, by detachment from all earthly things,--wealth, luxuries, fame, kindred, friends, tastes, even life itself ... not that we need fail in love to our kindred and friends, but we must only let the thought of them abide in the heart as united to the love and thought of god. . _great purity of mind_, carefully excluding from it all useless, distracting thoughts as to past, present, or future; all preoccupation over some pet employment; all desire to be known, and thought well of. . _great purity of action_, only undertaking what lies in the path of duty; controlling natural eagerness and activity; acting soberly, with the help of the holy spirit, the thought that by our deeds we glorify god: pausing for a moment, when passing from one occupation to another, in order to direct aright the intention; and taking care to be always occupied in what is useful and beneficial. . _great recollectedness and self-mortification_; avoiding, as much as we can in keeping with our social position, all dissipation, bustle, disturbance; never allowing voluntarily, useless desires, looks, words, or pleasures, but placing them under the rule of reason, decorum, edification, and love; taking care that our prayers be said slowly and carefully, articulating each word, and trying to _feel_ the truth of what we are saying. . _great care and exactitude_ in all the ordinary actions of life, above all in the exercises of religion; leaving nothing to chance or hazard; beholding in everything god's overruling will, and saying to one's self sometimes, as the hour for such and such duty arrives, "i must hasten, god is calling me." . _much intercourse with god_; speaking to him with simplicity, loving him dearly, always consulting him, rendering to him an account of every action, thanking him constantly, and above all, drawing near to him with joy in the holy eucharist. one great help towards such sweet communion with god, will be found in a steady perseverance in the early morning's meditation. . _much love for our neighbor_, because he is the much-loved child of god, praying for him, comforting, teaching, strengthening, and helping him in all difficulties. * * * * * hindrances to the interior life . _natural activity_, always urging us on, and making us too precipitate in all our actions. it shows itself:-- _in our projects_, which it multiplies, heaps up, reforms, and upsets. it allows of no rest, until what it has undertaken is accomplished. _in our actions._ activity is absolutely necessary to us. we load ourselves with a thousand things beyond our duty, sometimes even contrary to it. everything is done with impetuosity and haste, anxiety and impatience to see the end. _in our conversation._ activity makes us speak without thinking, interrupting rudely, reproving hastily, judging without appreciation. we speak loudly, disputing, murmuring, and losing our temper. _in prayer._ we burden ourselves with numberless prayers, repeated carelessly, without attention, and with impatience to get to the end of them; it interferes with our meditations, wearies, torments, fatigues the brain, drying up the soul, and hindering the work of the holy spirit. . _curiosity_ lays the soul open to all external things, fills it with a thousand fancies and questionings, pleasing or vexatious, absorbing the mind, and making it quite impossible to retire within one's self and be recollected. then follow distaste, sloth, and ennui for all that savors of silence, retirement, and meditation. curiosity shows itself, when _studies_ are undertaken from vanity, a desire to know all things, and to pass as clever, rather than the real wish to learn in order to be useful--in _reading_, when the spare time is given up to history, papers, and novels--in _walking_, when our steps would lead us where the crowd go to see, to know, only in order to have something to retail; in fact, it manifests itself in a thousand little actions; for instance, pressing forward with feverish haste to open a letter addressed to us, longing eagerly to see anything that presents itself, always being the first to tell any piece of news.... when we forget god, he is driven from the heart, leaving it void, and then ensues that wild craving to fill up the void with anything with which we may come into contact. . _cowardice._ god does not forbid patient, submissive pleading, but murmuring fears are displeasing to him, and he withdraws from the soul that will not lean on him. cowardice manifests itself when in the _trials of life_ we rebel against the divine will that sends us illness, calumny, privation, desertion; when in _dryness of soul_ we leave off our prayers and communions because we feel no sensible sweetness in them; when we feel a sickness of the soul that makes us uneasy, and fearful that god has forsaken us. the soul estranged from god seeks diversion in the world; but in the midst of the world, god is not to be found; when temptations come, wearied, frightened, and tormented, we wander farther and farther away from him, crying, "i am forsaken," when the trial has really been sent in order to keep us on our guard, prevent our becoming proud, and offering us an opportunity for showing our love. v. the lesson of a daisy i saw her from afar, poor child; she looked dreamy as she leaned against the window, and held in her hand a daisy, which she was questioning by gradually pulling it to pieces. what she wanted to ascertain i cannot tell; i only heard in a low murmur, falling from her pale lips, these words: "_a little, a great deal, passionately, not __ at all_," as each petal her fingers pulled away fell fluttering at her feet. i could see her from a distance, and i felt touched. poor child, why do you tell a flower the thought that troubles you? have you no mother? why be anxious about the future? have you not god to prepare it for you, as tenderly as eighteen years ago your mother prepared your cradle? finally, when the daisy was all but gone, when her fingers stopped at the last petal, and her lips murmured the word _little_, she dropped her head upon her arms, discouraged, and, poor child, she wept! * * * * * why weep, my child? is it because this word does not please you? let me, let me, in the name of the simple daisy you have just destroyed, give you the experience of my old age. oh! if you only knew what it costs to have _much_ of anything! _a great deal of wit_ often results in spitefulness which makes us cruel and unjust, in jealousy that torments, in deception that sullies all our triumphs, and pride which is never satisfied. _a great deal of heart_ causes uneasiness which vexes, pain that rends asunder, grief that nearly kills ... sometimes even the judgment is deceived. _a great deal of attractiveness_ means often a consuming vanity, overwhelming deception, an insatiable desire to please, a fear of being unappreciated, a loss of peace, domestic life much neglected. _a great deal of wealth and success_ is the cause of luxury that enfeebles, loss of calm, quiet happiness, loss of love, leaving only the flattery that captivates. no, no, my child, never long for _a great deal_ in this life, unless it be for much forbearance, much goodness. and if it should be god's will to give you _much_ of anything, then, oh, pray it may never be to your condemnation! * * * * * is _passionately_ the word you long for? passionately! oh, the harm that is done by that word! there is something in the thought of it that makes me shudder. passionately means transport, frenzy, excess in everything. the life that the word _passionately_ describes must be a life full of risks and dangers; and if, by little short of a miracle, nothing outwardly wrong appears, the inner life must resemble a palace ravaged by fire, where the stranger sees nothing but cracked walls, blackened furniture, and drapery hanging in shreds. * * * * * my child, i would prefer for you the words _not at all_, as applied to fortune, external charms, and all that goes by the name of glory, success, and fascination in the world. i know it may seem a hard sentence, involving a continual self-denial, and exacting incessant hard labor to obtain the bare necessities of life for those we love. but do not be afraid of it. god never leaves his creatures in absolute need. god may deprive a face of beauty, a character of amiability, a mind of brilliancy, but he will never take away a heart of love; with the faculty of loving, he adds the power of prayer, and the promise always to listen to and answer it. as long as we can love and pray, life has charms for us. love produces devotion, and devotion brings happiness, even though we may not understand it. in prayer we feel we are beloved; and the love of god, oh, if only you knew how it compensates for the indifference of our fellow-creatures! * * * * * there now only remains to us the last words of the daisy, _a little_! the loving fatherly answer god has given to your childish curiosity. accept it, and make it the motto of your life! _a little_; moderation in wealth and fortune, a condition that promises the most peaceful life, free from anxiety for the future--doubtless requiring daily duties, but permitting many innocent enjoyments. _a little_; moderation in our desires, contentment with what we possess, making the most of it, and repressing all vain dreams of a more brilliant position, a more extended reputation, a more famous name. _a little_; the affection of a heart devoted to duty, and kindling joy in the family circle, composed of kindred to love, friends to cheer, poor to succor, hearts to strengthen, sufferings to alleviate. _a little_; a taste for all that is beautiful,--books, works of art, music, not making us idly dream of fame, but simply providing enjoyment for the mind, all the more keen, as the daily toil renders the occasions rare. do you see, my child, how much may lie beneath those simple words, _a little_, that the daisy gave you, and that you seem so much to despise! never scorn anything that seems wanting in brilliancy, and remember to be really happy we must have-- more _virtue_ than knowledge, more _love_ than tenderness, more _guidance_ than cleverness, more _health_ than riches, more _repose_ than profit. vi. each day is like a furrow lying before us; our thoughts, desires, and actions are the seed that each minute we drop into it, without seeming to perceive it. the furrow finished, we commence upon another, then another, and again another; each day presents a fresh one, and so on to the end of life ... sowing, ever sowing. and all we have sown springs up, grows and bears fruit, almost unknown to us; even if by chance we cast a backward glance we fail to recognize our work. behind us angels and demons, like gleaners, gather together in sheaves all that belongs to them. every night their store is increased. they preserve it, and at the last day will present it to their master. is there not a thought in this that should make us reflect? vii. "learn of me, for i am meek and lowly of heart" this is a simple rule of life for me, requiring no more than i am able; but i feel it unites me to god, makes me more devout, more faithful to duty, more ready for death. since i have made it my rule, it has been to me a source of consolation, enlightenment, and strength; and yet god alone knows how full of pain my life has been! dear friends, who, like myself, long to become holy, i commend this sentence to you in all its simplicity; listen, for it comes from the loving heart of jesus, it fell from his gentle lips:-- "learn of me, for i am meek and lowly of heart." i. be meek . meek towards god living from day to day beneath his eye, and where all things are ordered by a divine providence. as carefully as a mother arranges the room where her child will pass the day, does god prepare each hour that opens before me. whatever has to be done, it is his will that i should do it; and in order that it should be done well, he provides the necessary time, intelligence, aptitude, and knowledge. whatever of suffering presents itself, he expects me to bear it, even though i may not see any reason for it; and if the pain be so sharp as to call forth a cry, he gently whispers, "courage, my child, for it is my will!" if anything occurs to hinder my work, anything goes contrary to my plans and projects, he has ordained it so on purpose, because he knows that too much success would make me proud, too much ease would make me sensual; and he would teach me that the road to heaven is not _success_, but _labor and devotion_. with such thoughts as these all rebellion is hushed! with what peace, what joy, our work may be begun, continued, interrupted, and resumed! with what energy we reject those enemies that assail us at every hour,--idleness, haste, preoccupation, success, want of perseverance under difficulties! does the past sometimes rise up to trouble me with the thought of the many years spent without god? ah! no doubt the shame and grief are sharp and keen, but why need they disturb my peace of mind? has not god promised his pardon for his blessed son's sake, to all who truly repent and unfeignedly believe his holy gospel? have i made a full avowal and entire submission? and am i not willing to fulfil whatever i am advised in god's name to do for the future? does the future in its turn seem to frighten me? i smile at the foolish fancies of my imagination; is not my future in god's hands? what, when all that will befall me to-morrow, next year, ten years, twenty years hence, is ordained by him, shall i distress myself with the thought that it may not be good for me! lord! be thou my guide, and choose my lot as may seem best to thee! . meek under all circumstances events are messengers of either divine goodness or justice. each has a mission to fulfil; and as it comes from god, why not let it be accomplished in peace? painful, heart-rending, though they may be, they are still the will of god. watch them as they come, with a little trembling, perhaps even terror, but never let them destroy in the least degree my faith and resignation. to be meek under these circumstances, does not mean awaiting them with a stoic firmness which proceeds from pride, or hardening one's self against them to the point of repressing all trembling. no! god allows us sometimes to anticipate, postpone, or even when possible flee them; at any rate, we may try to soothe and soften them a little. the good father, when he sends them, sends at the same time the means by which they may be endured, and perhaps averted. _remedies_, in sickness. _love_, in trouble. _devotion_, in privations. _comfort_, in weakness. _tears_, in sorrow. god has created all these; and knowing perhaps that i may fail to find them, he has given commandment to some privileged servants to love, console, soothe, and help me, saying to them,-- "inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it as unto me." oh! welcome then the friendly voice that in the midst of trouble speaks to me of hope; i will receive with gratitude the care that affection presses upon me. with thankfulness i accept the _time_ devoted to me, _privation_ borne for my sake; and i will pray god to bless these kind friends, and ask him to say to them words such as these: "all that thou hast done for mine, i will repay thee a hundred-fold." . meek towards others this may seem even more difficult, for it so often appears to us as if others were actuated by malice. but how often it is only the result of temperament, pride, thoughtlessness; seeking their own pleasure without a thought of the harm they are doing me; then why be unhappy about it? i need only to be on my guard. never stand in the way of others (when it is not the case of a duty to be fulfilled), and if they sometimes are an obstacle in yours, remove them gently, but do not harm them. yielding, submitting, retiring, giving up, this should be our conduct towards the members of our family, and those we call our friends. the more facility you give them for doing what they think right, the more you enter into the feelings they have of their own importance, leaving them a free course of action, so much the more will you be likely to be useful to them, and retain your own peace of mind. it is astonishing how those we never press open their hearts to us! do not try to examine too minutely the actions of others, or the motives that actuate them; if they are wanting in tact, appear not to notice it, or, better still, try to think they have made a mistake. the best remedy for the dislike we feel towards any one is to endeavor to try to do them a little good every day; the best cure for their dislike to us is to try to speak kindly of them. are those around you wicked? be cautious, but do not lose heart; god will not let them harm you. how easy for god to stay the consequences of slander and calumny! god is the shield, interposing between others, circumstances, and myself. . meek towards self this does not imply self-complacency, self-indulgence, self-justification, but simply encouragement, strength, and fortitude. _encouragement_ in some wearisome, monotonous, unrecognized work, with a thought like this: "god is watching me, and wishes me to do this." this labor occupies my mind, perfects my soul, and shields me from mischief. encouragement such as this, in the midst of sadness and isolation, when no one thinks of us, or gives us the smallest token of sympathy, "is not my duty sufficient for me? god requires it of me, and it will lead me to heaven." _strength_ to rise again after some failure, some humiliating fault, some depressing weakness; rise again lovingly, confidingly, and with the thought, "never mind, it is a good father, a kind master, with whom i have to deal." confess your sin, humble yourself, and while awaiting the assurance of pardon go on with your daily work with the same zeal as before. _fortitude_ against the desertion and forgetfulness of others. we have two things to fortify us,--_prayer and labor_. one to cheer us,--_devotion_. these remedies are always at hand. ii. be humble i. humble with god resting always in his presence, like a little child, or even a beggar, who knowing nothing is due to him, still asks, loves, and awaits, feeling sure that hour by hour, in proportion to our need, god will provide all that is needful, and even over and above what is absolutely necessary. live peacefully under the protection of divine providence; the more you feel your insignificance, weakness, sickness, misery, the more right you have to the pity and love of god. only _pray_ fervently; let your prayer be thoughtful and reverent, sweet and full of hope. the poor have nothing left to them but _prayer_; but that prayer, so humble, so pleading, ascends to god, and is listened to with fatherly love! do not have a number of varied prayers, but let the "our father" be ever on your lips and in your heart. love to repeat to god the prayer that christ himself has taught, and for his sake is always accepted. look upon yourself as a hired servant of god, to whom he has promised a rich reward at the end of the day he calls _life_; each morning hold yourself in readiness to obey all his commands, in the way he wills, and with the means he appoints. the command may not always come _direct_ from the master; it would be too sweet to hear only god's voice: but he sends it by means of his ambassadors; these go by the names of _superiors_, _equals_, _inferiors_, sometimes _enemies_. each has received the mission (without knowing it) to make you holy; one by subduing your independence, another by crushing your pride, a third by spurring your slothfulness. they will, though fulfilling god's command, do it each in his own way, sometimes roughly, sometimes maliciously, sometimes in a way hard to bear ... what does it matter, so long as you feel that all you do, all you suffer, is the will of god? do your duty as well as you can, as you understand it, as it is given to you; say sometimes to god, "my master, art thou satisfied with me?" and then, in spite of ennui, fatigue, repugnance, go on with it faithfully to the end. then, whether praise or blame be yours, you will, good faithful servant, at least have peace. . humble towards others look upon yourself as the servant of all, but without ostentation, or their having any knowledge of it. repeat to yourself sometimes the words of the blessed virgin mary: "behold the handmaid of the lord," and those of our lord, "i came not to be ministered unto, but to minister;" and then act towards others as if you were their slave, warning, aiding, listening; abashed at what they do for you, and always seeming pleased at anything they may require you to do for them. oh! if you knew the full meaning of these words, all they signify of reward in heaven, of joy and peace on earth, how you would love them! oh! if you would only make them the rule of your life and conduct, how happy you would be yourself, and how happy you would make others! happy in the approval of conscience, that whispers, "you have done as christ would have done." happy in the thought of the reward promised to those who give even a cup of cold water in the name of jesus christ; happy in the assurance that god will do for you what you have done for others. oh! what matters then ingratitude, forgetfulness, contempt, and scorn? they will pain, no doubt, but will have no power to sadden or discourage. precious counsel, inspired by christ himself, i bless you for all the good you have done me! when first those words found entrance to my heart, they brought with them _peace_ and _strength_ to stand against _deception_, _desertion_, _discouragement_ and the _resolute will_ to live a life more devoted to god, more united to him, more contented, and ever pressing onward towards heaven. once more, i bless you! precious counsels, enlighten, guide, and lead me. viii. a simple prayer o jesu! in the midst of glory forget not the sadness upon earth! have mercy upon those to whom god has sent the bitter trial of separation from those they love! have mercy on that loneliness of heart, so full of sadness, so crushing, sometimes full of terror! have mercy upon those struggling against the difficulties of life, and faint with discouragement! have mercy on those whom fortune favors, whom the world fascinates, and who are free from care! have mercy on those to whom thou hast given great tenderness of heart, great sensitiveness! have mercy on those who cease to love us, and never may they know the pain they cause! have mercy on those who have gradually withdrawn from holy communion and prayer, and losing peace within, weep, yet dare not return to thee! have mercy on all we love; make them holy even through suffering! if ever they estrange themselves from thee, take, oh, take all my joys, and decoy them with the pleasures back again to thee! have mercy on those who weep, those who pray, those who know not _how_ to pray! to all, o jesus, grant hope and peace! ix. simple counsels for a young girl yes, very simple. listen my child, and may they sink deep into your heart, as the dew sinks in the calyx of the flower. these are my counsels:-- _distrust the love_ that comes too suddenly. _distrust the pleasure_ that fascinates so keenly. _distrust the words_ that trouble or charm. _distrust the book_ that makes you dream. _distrust the thought_ you cannot confide to your mother. treasure these counsels, and sometimes as you read them, ask yourself, "_why?_" guardian angel of the child we are addressing, teach her the reason of these sentences that seem to her so exaggerated! x. a recipe for never annoying our friends this was made by one who had suffered much for many years from numberless little worries, occasioned by a relative, whose affection no doubt was sincere and devoted, but also too ardent, and wanting in discretion. there must be moderation in all things, even in the love we manifest, the care we take to shield them from trouble. this recipe consists of but four simple rules, very clear, very precise. behold them:-- . _always leave my friend something more to desire of me._ if he asks me to go and see him three times, i go but twice. he will look forward to my coming a third time, and when i go, receive me the more cordially. it is so sweet to feel we are needed, and so hard to be thought importunate. . _be useful to my friend as far as he permits, and no farther._ an over-anxious affection becomes tiresome, and a multiplicity of beautiful sentiments makes them almost insupportable. devotion to a friend does not consist in doing _everything_ for him, but simply that which is agreeable and of service to him, and let it only be revealed to him by accident. we all love freedom, and cling tenaciously to our little fancies; we do not like others to arrange what we have purposely left in disorder; we even resent their over-anxiety and care for us. . _be much occupied with my own affairs, and little, very little, with those of my friend._ this infallibly leads to a favorable result. to begin with, in occupying myself with my own affairs, i shall the more speedily accomplish them, while my friend is doing the same. if he appeals to me for help, i will go through fire and water to serve him, but if _not_, then i do both myself and him the greater service by abstaining. if, however, i can serve him without his knowledge of it, and i can see his need, then i must be always ready to do it. . _leave my friend always at liberty to think and act for himself in matters of little importance._ why compel him to think and act with me? am _i_ the type of all that is beautiful and right? is it not absurd to think that because another acts and thinks differently to myself, he must needs be wrong? no doubt i may not always say, "_you are right_," but i can at any rate let him _think_ it. try this recipe of mine, and i can answer for it your friendship will be lasting. xi. beneath the eye of god, god only as you read these words, are you not conscious of an inward feeling of peace and quietness? _beneath god's eye!_ there is something in the thought like a sheltering rock, a refreshing dew, a gleam of light. ah! why always such seeking for some one to _see_ me, to _understand_, _appreciate_, _praise_ me? the human eye i seek is like the scorching ray that destroys all the delicate colors in the most costly material. every action that is done, only to be seen of others, loses its freshness in the sight of god, like the flower that passing through many hands is at last hardly presentable. oh, my soul! be as the desert flower that grows, blooms, and flourishes unseen, in obedience to god's will, and cares not whether the passing bird perceives it, or the wind scatters the petals, scarcely formed. * * * * * on no account neglect the duty you owe to friendship, relatives, society, but remember each day to reserve some portion of it for yourself and god only. remember always to do some actions that can be known to none but god. ah! how sweet to have god as our only witness. it is the high degree of holiness. the most exquisite happiness. the assurance of an entry into heaven hereafter. the mother that reserves all that is most costly for her child, the child that prepares in secret some surprise for its mother, do not experience a joy more pure, more elevating, than the servant of god, who lives always in god's presence, whom alone they would please, or the loving heart that enclosing alms to some destitute family writes upon the cover these words only, "in the name of the good and gracious god." * * * * * the following lines were found on some scraps of paper belonging to some stranger: ... they have just told me of a poor destitute woman; i gave them ten pence for her; it was my duty to set an example. and now, my god, for thee, for thy sake only, i mean to send her five shillings, which i shall deduct from my personal expenses. ... to-morrow henry is coming to see me, that poor henry i loved so dearly, but who has grown cold towards his old friend. he wished to grieve me, and little knows that i found it out. help me, lord, to remember i have forgiven him, and help me to receive him cordially. thou alone knowest all i have suffered. ... what a happy day was yesterday! happy with regard to heavenly things, for alas! my poor heart suffered. yesterday was a festival. the snow outside kept every one at home by their own firesides, and i was left lonely.... ah, yes, my heart felt sad, but my spirit was peaceful; i tried to talk to god, just as if i could really see him at my side, and gradually i felt comforted, and spent my evening with a sweet sense of god's presence.... what i said, what i wrote, i know not; but the remembrance of yesterday remains to me as some sweet, refreshing perfume. * * * * * perhaps at the last day all that will remain worth recording of a life full of activity and zeal will be those little deeds that were done solely beneath the eye of god.... my god, teach me to live with an abiding sense of thy presence, laboring for thee, suffering for thee, guided by thee, ... and thee alone! xii. my duty towards god prayers. slow, recollected, persevering. peaceful, calm, resigned. simple, humble, trusting. always reverent, as loving as possible. charitable. have i not always opportunity to give? to thank? submission. to my lot and to my duty: they come from god, are ordained by god, lead me to god, to neglect them is to estrange myself from him. to the guide of my soul: he has received the holy spirit in order to show me the way; he has god's spirit to guide him. to my parents: they have god's authority. to circumstances: they are arranged and sent by god. labor. begun cheerfully. continued perseveringly. interrupted and resumed patiently. finished perfectly and devoutly. repose and care for the body, as in god's sight, under god's protection. duty towards my neighbor good example. by modest demeanor and simple dress. by a smiling face and pleasing manner. always striving to give pleasure. faithfully fulfilling every duty. good words. zealous without affectation, encouraging, consoling, peaceful, joyful, loving. these are possible every day. good deeds. service rendered by alms, by industry, by influence. ills remedied, by excusing, justifying, protecting, defending, concealing faults and mistakes; if possible, by repairing them. joys provided, for the _mind_, by a joyous manner; for the _heart_, by loving thanks; for the soul, by a word of heaven. my duty towards myself courage. in trials and adversity, disturbance, sickness, failure, humiliations. worries that trouble without reason. ill temper controlled, in order not to pain others. after failures, to begin again. in temptations, to withstand them. order and method. in my occupation, each at its appointed hour. in my recreation. in all material things, for my benefit. shunning scruples and constraint as much as caprice and folly. nourishment. pious thoughts, read, meditated upon, and sometimes written. books that elevate and excite love for all that is good and lovely. conversations that refresh, rejoice, and cheer; walks that expand the mind, as well as strengthen the body. xiii. the power of an act of love towards god have you ever reflected upon this? let us consider the exact words that describe it. "_i love thee with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, because thou art so good, so infinitely good!_" try and repeat these words slowly, so that each may penetrate deep into your heart. do you not feel moved, as if your whole being in these words went forth to god, offering to him life itself? do you not feel, in making this act of love, you give far more than if you gave your wealth, influence, or time; nay, rather does not this very act seem to bring you riches, strength, opportunities, all that you possess? picture to yourself, standing before you, a child--a child perhaps who may have injured you deeply, and yet whose sincerity at this moment you cannot doubt, who is actuated neither by fear nor self-seeking, but simply by a penitent heart, and who comes to say to you words of love, such as those above, do you feel no emotion, no feeling of pity? i defy you to be without some emotion, not to feel your arms extending, perhaps in spite of you, to embrace this poor child, and not to answer, "_i also love thee_." i have yet another test to put to you, poor, desolate, guilty, hopeless as you are, seeing only within and around you, _fears_, _terror_, and--ay, let me say it--_damnation_. i defy you to kneel and say these words (laying a greater stress on them because of the repugnance you feel): "_my god! i love thee with all my heart, with all my strength, with all my soul, above everything, because thou art so good, so infinitely good!_" and then not to feel that jesus is moved with compassion, and not to hear his voice, saying to you, "my child, i love thee also!" o jesus, how can we find words in which to express the tenderness awakened in thine heart, by a word of love from one of thy little ones! that heart, so tender, gentle, sensitive, and loving! a sentence of faber's may sound unnatural to us, so little spiritually minded: he says, "god sometimes draws us to him, and fills us with love for him, not that he may love us, _that_ he always does, but in order to make us _feel_ how he loves us!" an act of love demands but a few moments. the whole of the day, even in the midst of labor, we can multiply it infinitely, and what wonders are wrought by each act! jesus himself is glorified, and he sheds abundant grace upon the earth. our guardian angel, beholding us, listens, draws nearer, and makes us feel we have done right. the angels above experience a sudden joy, and look upon us tenderly. evil spirits feel their power diminished, and there is a moment of rest from the temptation that surrounds us. the choir of saints above renew their songs of praise. each soul on earth feels the peace divine. ah! which of us each day would not renew these acts of love to god! ah! all who read these lines, pause for one moment, and from the bottom of your heart exclaim, "my god, i love thee! my god, i love thee!" xiv. be serious a statesman retiring from public life occupied himself in his latter days with serious thoughts. the friends who came to visit him, reproached him with being melancholy. "no," he replied; "i am only _serious_. all around me is serious, and i feel the need that heart and mind should be in unison with my surroundings." "for," he added, with such solemnity as to impress all present, "god is _serious_ as he watches us. jesus is _serious_ when he intercedes for us. the holy spirit is _serious_ when he guides us. satan is _serious_ when he tempts us. the wicked in hell are _serious_ now, because they neglected to be so when on earth; all is _serious_ in that world whither we are wending." oh, my friends! believe me, it is all true; let us at least at times be _serious_ in our thoughts and in our actions. xv. consolation you distress yourself sometimes, poor thing! because amongst those who surround you, there are one or two who worry and annoy you. they do not like you, find fault with everything you do, they meet you with a severe countenance and austere manner, you think they do you harm, you look upon them as obstacles to your doing good. your life passes away saddened and faded, and gradually you become disheartened. courage! instead of vexing yourself, thank god; these very persons are the means of preserving you from humiliating faults, perhaps even greater sins. it is like the blister the doctor applies, to draw out the inflammation that would kill. god sees that too much joy, too much happiness, procured by those little attentions for which you are so eager, would make you careless and slothful in prayer; too much affection would only enervate, and you would cling too much to earthly things; so in order to preserve your heart in all its tenderness and simplicity, he plants there a few thorns, and cuts you off from all the pleasures you fancy yours by right. god knows that too much praise would cause pride, and make you less forbearing to others, and so he sends instead humiliations. let them be, then, these persons who unconsciously are doing god's work within you. if you cannot love them from sympathy, love with an effort of the will, and say to god, "my god, grant that without offending thee, they may work my sanctification. i have need of them." xvi. holy communion the result of a good communion is, _within_, a fear of a sin, _without_, a love for others. holy communion is a great aid to sanctification. jesus visits the soul, working in it, and filling it with his grace, which is shed on all around, as the sun sheds forth its light, the fire gives out its heat. it is impossible but that christ, thus visiting the soul, should not leave something christ-like within, if only the soul be disposed to receive it. fire, whose property is to give warmth, cannot produce that effect unless the body be placed near enough to be penetrated with the heat. does not this simple thought explain the reason that there is often so little result from our frequent communions? do you long at each communion to receive the grace bestowed by christ that shall little by little fit you for heaven hereafter? will you, receiving thus the god of _peace_ within, have for those around you kind words that shall fill them with calmness, resignation, and peace? will you, receiving thus the god of _love_, gradually increase in tenderness and love that will urge you to sacrifice yourself for others, loving them as christ would have loved them? will you, receiving him you rightly name the _gracious_ god, become yourself gracious, gracious to sympathize, gracious to forbear, gracious to pardon, and thus in a small way resemble the god who gave himself for thee? this should be your resolve when about to communicate. _resolved_: to obey god's commandments in all their extensiveness, never hesitating in a question of duty, no matter how hard it may be; the duty of forgiving and forgetting some injustice or undeserved rebuke; accepting cheerfully a position contrary to your wishes and inclinations; application to some labor, distasteful, and seemingly beyond your strength.... if your duty seems almost _impossible_ to fulfil, ask yourself, "is this god's will for me?" and if conscience answers _yes_, then reply also, _i will do it_. all difficulties vanish after holy communion. _generous_: depriving yourself those days of communion of some pleasures which though harmless in themselves, you know, only too well, enfeeble your devotion, excite your feelings, and leave you weaker than before. _generous_ means doing over and above what duty requires of us. _conscientious and upright_: not seeking to find out if some forbidden thing is really a _sin_ or not, and whether it may not in some way be reconciled to conscience. oh! how hurtful are these waverings between god and the world, duty and pleasure, obedience and allurements. did jesus christ hesitate to die for you? and yet _you_ hesitate! coward! _humble and meek_: treading peacefully the road marked out for you by providence, sometimes weeping, often suffering, but free from anxiety, awaiting the loving support that never fails those who trust and renew their strength day by day. living quietly, loving neither the world nor its praise, working contentedly in that state of life to which you are called, doing good, regardless of man's knowledge and approval, content that others should be more honored, more esteemed, having only one ambition,--_to love god, and be loved by him_. * * * * * if this be the disposition of your soul, then be sure each communion will be blessed to you, make you more holy, more like christ, with more taste and love for the things of god, more sure of glory hereafter. xvii. after holy communion self-sacrifice lord! take me and lead me whithersoever thou willest! is it thy will that my life be spent in the midst of such incessant toil and tumult that no time is left for those brief moments of leisure of which i sometimes dream? yes! yes! i wish it also! is it thy will that lonely and sorrowful i am left on earth, while those i loved have gone to dwell near thee above? yes! yes! i wish it also! is it thy will that unknown by all, misunderstood even by those whose affection i prize, i am looked upon as useless, on account of my stupidity, want of manner, or bad health? yes! yes! i wish it also! thou art ruler. o my god! only be thyself the guide, and abide with me forever! my memory my memory! the mysterious book--reflection of that of eternity, in which at each moment are inscribed my thoughts, affections, and desires. into thy hands i commend it, lord, that thou alone mayst write there, thou alone efface! leave there, lord, the remembrance of my sins, but efface forever the pleasures that led to them--were i to catch but a glimpse of their enticing sweetness, i might again desire them. leave there the sweet memories of childhood, when i loved thee with such simplicity, and my father, my mother, my family, were my sole affections. those days, when the slightest untruthfulness, or even the fear of having sinned, left me no peace till i had confessed it to my mother. those days, when i always felt my guardian angel near me, helping me in my work, and soothing my little troubles! leave me the remembrance of my first sense of the divine absolution, when my heart overflowing with secret joy, i cried, _i am forgiven, i am forgiven_! and then the recollection of my first communion! oh, recall it to me, lord, with its preparation so fearful, yet so loving; its joy so calm, so holy, yet so sweet, that even now the thought of it fills mine eyes with tears! leave me the remembrance of thy benefits! each year of my life is crowned with blessings ... at _ten_ ... _fifteen_ ... _eighteen_ ... _twenty_ years ... oh! i can well recall all thy goodness to me, my god! yes, receive my memory, blot out all that can estrange me from thee, and grant that nothing apart from thee may again find a place there! my mind oh! by what false lights have i been dazzled! they showed me prayer as wearisome; religious duties too absorbing; frequent communion as useless; social duties as a heavy bondage; devotion the lot of weak minds and those without affection.... oh, i knew well how false it was, and yet i let myself be half-convinced! when have i ever been more _zealous in labor_ than those days when i had fulfilled all my religious duties? when more _loving and devoted_ than on the days of my communions? when have i felt _more free, more happy_, than when having fulfilled all the duties of my social position? lord, receive my mind, and nourish it with thy truth! show me that apart from thee, _pleasures of the senses_ leave behind only remorse, disgust, weariness, and satiety. _pleasures of the heart_ cause anxiety, bitterness, rendings, and fears. _pleasures of the mind_ produce a void, vanity, jealousy, coldness, and humiliations! teach me that all must pass away ... that nothing is true, nothing is good, nothing is eternal, but thou, thou only, o my god! my will my deeds are the result of my will, and it is the will only that makes them of any value. oh, then to begin with, i will learn submission! what i _wish_, may not always be good for me; what i am _bidden_ must be right. o jesus! grant me the grace of _obedience_, and then let me be bidden many things: works of piety, works of charity, self-renunciation, brilliant deeds, deeds that are ignored in my family life, or wherever i may be, there are numberless calls for all of these; lord, behold thy servant! may i be always ready when thou hast need of me! all that i have my god, how richly hast thou blessed me! treasures of love, i offer them to thee! _i have relations_, dear ones, thou knowest how i love them.... ah, if it be thy will to take them from this world, before me, though i say it weeping, still i say it, thy will be done! _i have friends._... if it be thy will they should forget me, think ill of me, leave me alone, with that loneliness of heart so bitter and so keen ... i yield them to thee! _i have worldly goods_ that give me a certain degree of comfort, by affording me the means of helping others poorer than myself.... should it be thy will to deprive me of them, little by little, till at last i have only the bare necessaries of life left ... i yield them to thee! _i have limbs_ that thou hast given me. if it be thy will that paralysis should fetter my arms, my eyes no longer see the light, my tongue be unable to articulate, my god, i yield them to thee! in exchange, grant me thy love, thy grace, and then ... nothing more, only heaven! * * * * * o jesus, abandoned by all in the garden of gethsemane, in need then of comfort and strength: jesus, thou who knowest that at this moment there are some on earth who have no strength, no comfort, no support, oh! send to them some angel who will give them a little joy, a little peace! oh, if only _i_ might be that messenger! what must i suffer, lord? if an outward trouble or inward pain be needful to make of me but for one moment a consoling angel to some poor lonely heart, oh! however keen the pain, or bitter the trouble, i pray thee, grant it to me, jesus! o jesus, in search of _lips_ to tell the love thou bearest for thy children; _lips_ to tell the poor and lonely they are not despised, the sinful they are not cast away, the timid they are not unprotected. o jesus! grant that my lips may speak words of strength, love, comfort, and pardon. let each day seem to me wasted that passes without my having spoken of help and sympathy, without having made some one bless thy name, be it but a little child. o jesus! so _patient_ towards those who wearied thee with their importunity and ignorance! jesus, so long-suffering in teaching, and awaiting the hour of grace! jesus, grant that i may be patient to listen, to teach, though over and over again i may have to instruct the same thing. grant me help, that i may always show a smiling face, even though the importunity of some be keenly felt! and if through physical weakness i manifest ennui or weariness, grant, o jesus, that i may speedily make amends, with loving words, for the pain i have caused. o jesus! who with infinite tact didst await, seated at the roadside, the opportunity for doing good, simply asking a small service of the poor samaritan woman thou wouldst save, and draw to thee. o jesus! grant that i may feel and understand all the pain that timidity, shyness, or reserve keep buried within the recesses of the soul. grant me the tact and discretion that draws near without paining, that asks without repulsing, without humiliating, and thus enable me to bring peace and comfort to the wounded heart. o jesus! seeking some one as faithful dispenser of thy blessings, grant _much_ to me, that i may have much to bestow on others. grant that my hands may dispense thine alms, that they may be as thine, when thou didst wash the feet of thine apostles, working for all, helping all; let me never forget that, like thee, i am placed on this earth to minister, not to be ministered unto. grant that my lips may speak comforting words and give forth cheering smiles, that i may be as the well by the roadside, where the weary traveller stoops to drink, as the shade of the tree whose branches laden with fruit are extended over all that pass beneath. o jesus! to whom all thy children are so dear, and whatever they may be thou carest for them, and rememberest they are the much-loved children of god! oh! grant that in all my intercourse with others, i may only see, love, and care for their _souls_, that soul for whom, o god, thou hast died, who like myself can call thee father, and with whom, near thee, i hope to dwell, throughout the ages of eternity. transcriber's note removed an extraneous comma from this line: _self-renunciation_*,* means devotion to our duty, going on with it in spite of difficulties, disgust, ennui, want of success. standardized spelling in this line by removing hyphen from light-heartedness, to match usage elsewhere in the book: whose chatter and lightheartedness, even her very attentions to myself, parables of the cross by i. lilias trotter to a.c. & b.a.b. in memory of lessons learnt together marshall brothers, ltd. london & edinburgh. death is the gate of life there was deep insight in those old words. for man's natural thought of death is that of a dreary ending in decay and dissolution. and from his standpoint he is right: death as the punishment of sin is an ending. but far other is god's thought in the redemption of the world. he takes the very thing that came in with the curse, and makes it the path of glory. death becomes a beginning instead of an ending, for it becomes the means of liberating a fresh life. and so the hope that lies in these parable lessons of death and life is meant for those only who are turning to him for redemption. to those who have not turned, death stands in all its old awful doom, inevitable, irrevocable. there is no gleam of light through it for them. * * * * * * * * "the death of the cross"--death's triumph hour--that was the point where god's gate opened; and to that gate we come again and again, as our lives unfold, and through it pass even on earth to our joyful resurrection, to a life each time more abundant, for each time the dying is a deeper dying. the christian life is a process of deliverance out of one world into another, and "death," as has been truly said, "is the only way out of any world in which we are." "death is the gate of life." does it look so to us? have we learnt to go down, once and again, into its gathering shadows in quietness and confidence, knowing that there is always "a better resurrection" beyond? it is in the stages of a plant's growth, its budding and blossoming and seed-bearing, that this lesson has come to me: the lesson of death in its delivering power. it has come as no mere far-fetched imagery, but as one of the many voices in which god speaks, bringing strength and gladness from his holy place. can we not trace the sign of the cross in the first hint of the new spring's dawning? in many cases, as in the chestnut, before a single old leaf has faded, next year's buds may be seen, at the summit of branch and twig, formed into its very likeness: in others the leaf-buds seem to bear its mark by breaking through the stem blood-red. back in the plant's first stages, the crimson touch is to be found in seed-leaves and fresh shoots, and even in the hidden sprouts. look at the acorn, for instance, as it breaks its shell, and see how the baby tree bears its birthmark: it is the blood-red in which the prism ray dawns out of the darkness, and the sunrise out of the night. the very stars, science now tells us, glow with this same colour as they are born into the universe out of the dying of former stars.[footnote*:prof. huggins. brit. asso. .] be it as it may in nature, it is true, at any rate in the world of grace, that each soul that would enter into real life must bear at the outset this crimson seal; there must be the individual "sprinkling of the blood of jesus christ." it must go out through the gate of the cross. and here is the needs-be. death is the only way out of the world of condemnation wherein we lie. shut into that world, it is vain to try by any self-effort to battle out; nothing can revoke the decree "the soul that sinneth it shall die." the only choice left is this. shall it be, under the old headship of adam, our own death, in all that god means by the word, or shall it be, under the headship of christ, the death of another in our place? it is when we come to self-despair, when we feel ourselves locked in, waiting our doom, that the glory and the beauty of god's way of escape dawns upon us, and we submit ourselves to him in it. all resistance breaks down as faith closes on the fact: "he loved me and gave himself for me." we receive the atonement so hardly won, and we go out into life not only pardoned, but cleared and justified. death to sin's penalty is the way out into a life of justification. and as we go out free, we find that on the other side of the cross a new existence has really begun: that the love of the crucified has touched the springs of our being--we are in another world, under an open heaven. "christ hath suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to god." does anyone read these words who is trying to struggle from the natural life into the spiritual, by "some other way" than this way of the cross? it is as impossible as it would be to pass from to-day into to-morrow except through the night. your battling is a battling against god. yield and come to his terms. yield now. * * * * * * * * but blessed as it is, this passage into a life of peace with him, woe to the soul that stops there, thinking that the goal is reached, and dwindles, so to speak, into a stunted bud. holiness, not safety, is the end of our calling. and so it comes to pass that a fresh need for deliverance is soon pressed upon him who is true to god's voice in his heart. the two lives are there together, one new-born and feeble, the other strong with an earlier growth. "the flesh lusteth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh," and the will power is distracted between the two, like the sap that flows partly into the old condemned leaves, partly into the fresh buds. consequently there is the strife of a kingdom divided against itself: sometimes the one life grows and flourishes, sometimes the other; sometimes they struggle on side by side, till the cry is forced out--"oh, wretched man that i am; who shall deliver me?" and here again, when the point of self-despair is reached, and we come to see that our efforts after holiness are as vain as our efforts after acceptance with god, the door of escape opens afresh. for there is glory be to god, a definite way out from the prison life of sruggling and failure, sinning and repenting, wherein many a soul beats its wings for years after the question of pardon has been settled. and that way is again the way of death. a stage of dying must come over the plant before the new leaves can grow and thrive. there must be a deliberate choice between the former growth and the new; one must give way to the other; the acorn has to come to the point where it ceases to keep its rag of former existence, and lets everything go to the fresh shoot: the twig must withdraw its sap from last year's leaf, and let it flow into this year's bud. and before the soul can really enter upon a life of holiness, with all its blessed endless possibilities, a like choice must be made: all known sin must be deliberately given up, that the rising current may have its full play. "but," you say, "i have tried again and again to give up sin: i have prayed, and i have resolved, but the will finds its way back into the old channels, and is keeping alive the past before i know it." look at our parable. if you picked off one of the dead leaves and examined the leaf-stalk through a microscope, you would find that the old channel is silted up by a barrier invisible to the naked eye. the plant has shut the door on the last year's leaf, condemning it to decay, and soon without further effort the stalk loosens, the winds of god play around it, and it falls away. but where is the barrier that we can place between ourselves and the old nature? where is the sentence of death that we can pass upon it? back to the cross again! it is there, within our reach. "our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin; for he that is dead is freed from sin." death to sin is the way out into a life of holiness. the cross of our lord jesus christ shuts off the life of sin; like the silted-up channel, it stands a blessed invisible barrier between us and sinning, as we "reckon" it there: that is, hold it there by faith and will. and his open grave is the open way into a life, wherein our rising powers can develop into all their spring vigour. the sap--the will--the "ego"--is withdrawn from the former existence, its aims and desires, and is sent into the new. it is given over to the other side: we hold to it that this is now our life, the only one that has the right to be. we reckon ourselves dead to the old; we reckon ourselves alive to the new; "putting off" the former, "putting on" the latter. take a practical instance. an old habit of doubting and fearing asserts itself in your soul, alive and strong. you have two things to do. close the door upon the doubt: shut your eyes to it: reckon yourself dead to it. and then reckon into life the new-born growth of faith in your soul, and put all your force into believing: lift up your eyes to the god in whom you believe: believe in the teeth of everything, as if the cause for doubt were not there. then the sap, ceasing from feeding the old shoot, will flow into the new. but is it an act, or a gradual process, this "putting off the old man?" it is both. it is a resolve taken once for all, but carried out in detail day by day. the first hour that the sap begins to withdraw, and the leaf-stalk begins to silt up, the leaf's fate is sealed: there is never a moment's reversal of the decision. each day that follows is a steady carrying out of the plant's purpose: "this old leaf shall die, and the new leaf shall live." so with your soul. come to the decision once for all: "every known sin shall go--if there is a deliverance to be had, i will have it." put the cross of christ, in its mysterious delivering power, irrevocably between you and sinning, and hold on there. that is your part, and you must do it. there is no further progress possible to you, till you make up your mind to part company with every sin in which you know you are indulging--every sin of thought, word, or deed, every link with the world, the flesh, or the devil, everything on which the shadow of a question falls, as god's light shines in: to part company, not by a series of gradual struggles, but by an honest act of renouncing, maintained by faith and obedience. and as you make the decision up to your present knowledge, you must determine that this is henceforth your attitude towards all that is "not of the father," as his growing light shall reveal it. from his side god will come in with a breath of his resurrection power; for the cross and the empty tomb cannot be long divided. the law of the spirit of life can work now, as you deliberately loose hold of all clinging to sin; the expulsive power of his working within, and the play of his winds around, will make you "free indeed," like these young shoots when last year's leaves have fallen. * * * * * * * * this brings us to the positive side; for when the sentence of death on the old nature is realised, the new nature can be manifested. separation from all known sin is the starting-point for santification, not the goal: it is only the negative side of holiness; it is only reaching the place where god can develop his ideal in us unhindered. it is when the death of winter has done its work that the sun can draw out in each plant its own individuality, and make its existence full and fragrant. holiness means something more than the sweeping away of the old leaves of sin: it means the life of jesus developed in us. no matter if we feel utterly helpless before that lovely life of his. given the conditions--the hidden power within, and the old outlets of growth shut off--the sun will do the rest; out of the midst of apparent lifelessness, of barrenness, of difficulty, the blossoms will be drawn forth. do not let us "limit the holy one of israel" by putting off his power to work this miracle into a distant future. how hopeless the naked wood of a fruit tree would look to us in february if we had never seen the marvel of springtime! yet the heavenly bloom bursts straight out, with hardly an intermediate step of new growth. look again at a flowering rush. the crest breaks forth from nothingness--out of the lifeless-seeming pith come crowding the golden brown blossoms, till there is hardly "room to receive" them. what more do we need for our souls than to have this god for our god? once allow the manifestation of his grace in these poor hearts of ours to be a miracle, and there is no need to defer it vaguely. how many of the wonders wrought by christ on earth lay in concentrating the long processes of nature into a sudden act of power. the sick would, many of them, have been healed by degrees in the ordinary course of things; the lapse of years would have brought about the withering of the fig-tree; the storm would have spent itself in few hours. the miracle in each case consisted in the slow process being quickened by the divine breath, and condensed into a moment. cannot we trust him for like marvels in our souls? there, too, "a day is with the lord as a thousand years." there is no needs be on his part that he should prolong this first act of makings us holy over the rest of our lives. a miracle--a wonder--is all that we need, and "he is the god, that doeth wonders." satan is quite content that we should have faith for future sanctification, just as he was content that we should have faith for future salvation. it is when the soul rises to "here and now" that he trembles. whatever is the next grace for your soul, can you believe for its supply at once, straight out from the dry, bare need? christ's process is very simple and very swift: "whatsoever things ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them." and not only with the barrenness of our souls can god deal with his quickening breath, but with our difficulties as well: with those things in our surroundings that seem the most unfavourable. see this bit of gorse-bush. the whole year round the thorn has been hardening and sharpening. spring comes: the thorn does not drop off, and it does not soften; there it is, as uncompromising as ever; but half-way up appear two brown furry balls, mere specks at first, that break at last--straight out of last year's thorn--into a blaze of fragrant golden glory. see this bit of gorse-bush. the whole year round the thorn has been hardening and sharpening. spring comes: the thorn does not drop off, and it does not soften; there it is, as uncompromising as ever; but half-way up appear two brown furry balls, mere specks at first, that break at last--straight out of last year's thorn--into a blaze of fragrant golden glory. "now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them that are exercised thereby." never mind if the trouble shews no sign of giving way: it is just when it seems most hopelessly unyielding, holding on through the spring days, alive and strong, it is then that the tiny buds appear that soon will clothe it with glory. take the very hardest thing in your life--the place of difficulty, outward or inward, and expect god to triumph gloriously in that very spot. just there he can bring your soul into blossom! * * * * * * * * and so the spring-time expands, till it passes once more into the shadow of calvary. for the blessedness of receiving is not all that god has for us: a new world lies beyond--a world of giving: a giving first to god in surrender, then to man in sacrifice. a flower that stops short at its flowering misses its purpose. we were created for more than our own spiritual development; reproduction, not mere development, is the goal of matured being--reproduction in other lives. there is a tendency in some characters, running parallel to the high cultivation that spends its whole energy on the production of bloom at the expense of seed. the flowers that are bent on perfecting themselves, by becoming double, end in barrenness, and a like barrenness comes to the soul whose interests are all concentrated upon its own spiritual well-being, heedless of the needs around. the true, ideal flower is the one that uses its gifts as means to an end; the brightness and sweetness are not for its own glory; they are but to attract the bees and butterflies that will fertilise and make it fruitful. all may go when the work is done--"it is more blessed to give than to receive." and we ourselves are "saved to save"--we are made to give--to let everything go if only we may have more to give. the pebble takes in all the rays of light that fall on it, but the diamond flashes them out again: every little facet is a means, not simply of drinking more in, but of giving more out. the unearthly loveliness of the opal arises from the same process, carried on within the stone: the microscope shows it to be shattered through and through with numberless fissures that catch and refract and radiate every ray that they can seize. yes, there lies before us a beautiful possible life--one that shall have a passion for giving: that shall be poured forth to god--spent out for man: that shall be consecrated "for the hardest work and the darkest sinners." but how are we to enter in? how are we to escape from the self-life that holds us, even after the sin-life has loosed its grasp? back to the cross: not only from the world of condemnation and from the world of sinning does it free us as we accept it, but from the power of outward things and from the thraldom of self: not only does it open the door into the world of acquittal, and again into that of holiness, but yet again into the new realm of surrender, and thence into that of sacrifice. for the essential idea of the cross is a life lost to be found again in those around. let us look at god's picturing. as the plant develops there comes a fresh stage of yielding. at first it was only the dead, disfiguring leaves that had to go--now it is the fair new petals: they must fall, and for no visible reason--no one seems enriched by the stripping. and the first step into the realm of giving is a like surrender--not manward, but godward: an utter yielding of our best. so long as our idea of surrender is limited to the renouncing of unlawful things, we have never grasped its true meaning: that is not worthy of the name for "no polluted thing" can be offered. the life lost on the cross was not a sinful one--the treasure poured forth there was god-given, god-blessed treasure, lawful and right to be kept: only that there was the life of the world at stake! death to lawful things is the way out into a life of surrender. look at this buttercup as it begins to learn its new lesson. the little hands of the calyx clasp tightly in the bud, round the beautiful petals; in the young flower their grasp grows more elastic--loosening somewhat in the daytime, but keeping the power of contracting, able to close in again during a rainstorm, or when night comes on. but see the central flower, which has reached its maturity. the calyx hands have unclasped utterly now--they have folded themselves back, past all power of closing again upon the petals, leaving the golden crown free to float away when god's time comes. have we learned the buttercup's lesson yet? are our hands off the very blossom of our life? are all things--even the treasures that he has sanctified--held loosely, ready to be parted with, without a struggle, when he asks for them? it is not in the partial relaxing of grasp, with power to take back again, that this fresh victory of death is won: it is won when that very power of taking back is yielded; when our hands, like the little calyx hands of god's buttercups, are not only taken off, but folded behind our back in utter abandonment. death means a loosened grasp--loosened beyond all power of grasping again. and it is no strange thing that happens to us, if god takes us at our word, and strips us for a while of all that made life beautiful. it may be outward things--bodily comfort, leisure, culture, reputation, friendships--that have to drift away as our hands refuse to clasp on anything but god's will for us. or it may be on our inner life that the stripping falls, and we have to leave the sunny lands of spiritual enjoyment for one after another of temptation's battlefields, where every inch of our foothold has to be tested, where even, it may seem to give way--till no experience, no resting-place remains to us in heaven or earth but god himself--till we are "wrecked upon god." have faith, like the flowers, to let the old things go. earn his beatitude, his "blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me"--"the beatitude of the trusting," as it has well been called--even if you have to earn it like john the baptist in an hour of desolation. you have told him that you want him only. are you ready to ratify the words when his emptying begins to come? is god enough? is it still "my god" that you cry, even as jesus cried when nothing else was left him? yes, practical death with him to lawful things is just letting go, even as he on the cross let go all but god. it is not to be reached by struggling for it, but simply by yielding as the body yields at last to the physical death that lays hold on it--as the dying calyx yields its flower. only to no iron law with its merciless grasp do we let ourselves go, but into the hands of the father: it is there that our spirit falls, as we are made conformable unto the death of jesus. does all this seem hard? does any soul, young in this life and in that to come, shrink back and say "i would rather keep in the springtime--i do not want to reach unto the things that are before if it must mean all this of pain." to such comes the master's voice: "fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer": you are right to be glad in his april days while he gives them. every stage of the heavenly growth in us is lovely to him; he is the god of the daisies and the lambs and the merry child hearts! it may be that no such path of loss lies before you; there are people like the lands where spring and summer weave the year between them, and the autumn processes are hardly noticed as they come and go. the one thing is to keep obedient in spirit, then you will be ready to let the flower-time pass if he bids you, when the sun of his love has worked some more ripening. you will feel by then that to try to keep the withering blossoms would be to cramp and ruin your soul. it is loss to keep when god says 'give'. for here again death is the gate of life: it is an entering in, not a going forth only; it means a liberating of new powers as the former treasures float away like the dying petals. we cannot feel a consciousness of death: the words are a contradiction in terms. if we had literally passed out of this world into the next we should not feel dead, we should only be conscious of a new wonderful life beating within us. our consciousness of death would be an entirely negative matter--the old pains would be unable to touch us, the old bonds would be unable to fetter us. our actual consciousness would have passed into the new existence: we should be independent of the old. and a like independence is the characteristic of the new flood of resurrection life that comes to our souls as we learn this fresh lesson of dying--a grand independence of any earthly thing to satisfy our soul, the liberty of those who have nothing to lose, because they have nothing to keep. we can do without anything while we have god. hallelujah! nor is this all. look at the expression of abandonment about this wild-rose calyx as time goes on, and it begins to grow towards the end for which it has had to count all things but loss: the look of dumb emptiness has gone--it is flung back joyously now, for simultaneously with the new dying a richer life has begun to work at its heart--so much death, so much life--for "ever with death it weaveth the warp and woof of the world." the lovely wild-rose petals that have drifted away are almost forgotten in the "reaching forth unto the things that are before:" the seed-vessel has begun to form: it is "yielded . . . to bring forth fruit." yes, there is another stage to be developed in us after the lesson of absolute unquestioning surrender to god has been learnt. a life that has been poured forth to him must find its crown, its completion, in being poured forth for man: it must grow out of surrender into sacrifice. "they first gave their own selves to the lord, and unto us by the will of god." back to the cross once more: if there is any place where this fresh lesson can be learnt, it is there! "hereby perceive we the love of god, because he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren." it is the very love of calvary that must come down into our souls, "yea, if i be poured forth upon the service of your faith i joy and rejoice with you all:" so spoke the apostle who drank most deeply into the master's spirit: and again--"death worketh in us, but life in you." "neither count i my life dear unto myself, that i may finish . . . the ministry." deeper and deeper must be the dying, for wider and fuller is the lifetide that it is to liberate--no longer limited by the narrow range of our own being, but with endless powers of multiplying in other souls. death must reach the very springs of our nature to set it free: it is not this thing or that thing that must go now: it is blindly, helplessly, recklessly, our very selves. a dying must come upon all that would hinder god's working through us--all interests, all impulses, all energies that are "born of the flesh"--all that is merely human and apart from his spirit. only thus can the life of jesus, in its intensity of love for sinners, have its way in our souls. death to self is the way out into a life of sacrifice. this dandelion has long ago surrendered its golden petals, and has reached its crowning stage of dying--the delicate seed-globe must break up now--it gives and gives till it has nothing left. what a revolution would come over the world--the world of starving bodies at home--the world of starving souls abroad, if something like this were the standard of giving; if god's people ventured on "making themselves poor" as jesus did, for the sake of the need around; if the "i"--"me"--"mine" were practically delivered up, no longer to be recognised when they clash with those needs. the hour of this new dying is clearly defined to the dandelion globe: it is marked by detachment. there is no sense of wrenching: it stands ready, holding up its little life, not knowing when or where or how the wind that bloweth where it listeth may carry it away. it holds itself no longer for its own keeping, only as something to be given: a breath does the rest, turning the "readiness to will" into the "performance." ( cor. . .) and to a soul that through "deaths oft" has been brought to this point, even acts that look as if they must involve an effort, become something natural, spontaneous, full of a "heavenly involuntariness," so simply are they the outcome of the indwelling love of christ. shall we not ask god to convict us, as to where lies the hindrance to this self-emptying? it is not alone mere selfishness, in its ordinary sense, that prevents it; long after this has been cleansed away by the precious blood there may remain, unrecognised, the self-life in more subtle forms. it may co-exist with much that looks like sacrifice; there may be much of usefulness and of outward self-denial, and yet below the surface may remain a clinging to our own judgment, a confidence in our own resources, an unconscious taking of our own way, even in god's service. and these things hold down, hold in our souls, and frustrate the spirit in his working. the latent self-life needs to be brought down into the place of death before his breath can carry us hither and thither as the wind wafts the seeds. are we ready for this last surrender? do you ask "does god really mean the emptying to reach so far as this?" study the inner life of jesus. "i speak not of myself" he says. "i can of mine own self do nothing." "i seek not mine own will, but the will of him that sent me." his human self-life, sinless though it was, was laid down that he might live by the father, and our self-life, defiled and worthless, shall we not lay it down that we may live by him? but how? again not by struggling and wrestling, but by dying to it in jesus. "i am crucified with christ"--i myself in the very essence of my being, i let myself go to that death, and by the mysterious power with which god meets faith, i find that he has made it true: the bonds are loosed and he can have his way with me. see in these wild iris-pods how the last tiny threads must be broken, and with that loosing, all that they have is free for god's use in his world around. all reluctance, all calculating, all holding in is gone; the husks are opened wide, the seeds can shed themselves unhindered. again and again has a breaking come:--the seed broke to let go the shoot--the leaf-bud broke to let go the leaf, and the flower-bud to let go the flower--but all to no practical avail, if there is a holding back now. "love is the fulfilling of the law," and sacrifice is the very life-breath of love. may god shew us every witholding thread of self that needs breaking still, and may his own touch shrivel it into death. see how this bit of oat-grass is emptying itself out. look at the wide-openness with which the seed-sheaths loose all that they have to yield, and then the patient content with which they fold their hands--the content of finished work. "she hath done what she could." oh, the depth of rest that falls on the soul when the voice of the beloved speaks those words! will they be said to us? the seed-vessel hopes for nothing again: it seeks only the chance of shedding itself: its purpose is fulfilled when the wind shakes forth the last seed, and the flower-stalk is beaten low by the autumn storms. it not only spends, but is "spent out" (r. v.) at last. it is through christ's poverty that we are rich--"as poor" in their turn "yet making many rich" is the mark of those who follow his steps. are we following his steps; are we? how the dark places of the earth are crying out for all the powers of giving and living and loving that are locked up in hearts at home! how the waste places are pleading dumbly for the treasure that lies there in abundance, stored as it were in the seedvessels of god's garden that have not been broken, not emptied for his world, not freed for his use. shall we not free it all gladly.--it is not grudgingly or of necessity that the little caskets break up and scatter the seed, but with the cheerful giving that god loves. have you ever noticed how often the emptied calyx grows into a diadem, and they stand crowned for their ministry as if they gloried in their power to give as the time draws near? even here in measure the faithfulness unto death and the crown of life go together: even here, if we suffer, we shall also reign with him. it is when the sun goes out from our horizon to light up the dayspring in far-away lands, that the glory of the day comes on: it is in the autumn, when the harvest is gathered and the fruit is stored for the use of man, that the glow of red and gold touches and transfigures bush and tree with a beauty that the summer days never knew. so with us--the clear pure dawn of cleansing through the blood--the sunrise gladness of resurrection life; the mid-day light and warmth of growth and service, all are good in their own order: but he who stops short there misses the crown of glory, before which the brightness of former days grows poor and cold. it is when the glow and radiance of a life delivered up to death begins to gather: a life poured forth to jesus and for his sake to others--it is then that even the commonest things put on a new beauty, as in the sunset, for his life becomes "manifest in our mortal flesh;" a bloom comes on the soul like the bloom on the fruit as its hour of sacrifice arrives. oh, that we may learn to die to all that is of self with this royal joyfulness that swallows up death in victory in god's world around! he can make every step of the path full of the triumph of gladness that glows in the golden leaves. glory be to his name! and the outcome, like the outcome of the autumn, is this: there is, a new power set free; a power of multiplying life around. the promise to christ was that because he poured forth his soul unto death, he should see his seed: and he leads his children in their little measure by the same road. over and over the promise of seed is linked with sacrifice, as with abraham and rebekah and ruth; those who at his bidding have forsaken all receive an hundred-fold more now in this time, for sacrifice is god's factor in his work of multiplying. "except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." it is the poured-out life that god blesses--the life that heeds not itself, if only other souls may be won. "ask and it shall be given unto you" is one of god's nursery lessons to his children. "give, and it shall be given unto you" comes further on. the reason is this:--that into the being that is ready to let the self-life go, god the holy ghost can come and dwell and work unfettered; and by that indwelling he will manifest within us his wonderful divine power of communicating vitality--of reproducing the image of jesus in souls around. it is true that it is a rule that sometimes has exceptions: there are those to whom a blessed life of fruitfulness to god comes in a simple way, with seemingly no hard process of dying involved, just as there are plants that reproduce themselves by bulb and tuber, sucker and shoot, without going through the stripping and scattering that we have been watching. but the law of creation is "the herb yielding seed and the fruit-tree yielding fruit after its kind, whose seed is in itself." and let us count it all joy if this law is carried out in us. "if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." whether it is laid down in toil among the lost, or in travail of soul among his children that christ be formed in them, either way there will be life brought forth. it does not follow that every seed will spring up: it is not so in the natural world. the plant's business is to scatter it, not withholding, not knowing which shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good; once scattered, the responsibility is transferred to the ground that receives it. but the aim of the plant--the goal of all the budding and blossoming and ripening--is that every seed should carry potential life. thus are we responsible, not for the tangible results of our ministry to others, but for its being a ministry in demonstration of the spirit and of power, such a ministry as will make those around us definitely responsible to god for accepting or rejecting the fulness of his salvation. if so, the "signs following" will not be wanting. it will be to the one the savour of death unto death, and to the other the savour of life unto life, but "whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear, they shall know that there hath been a prophet among them." * * * * * * * * but even when the plant's goal is reached, it is not a finality. "there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning. every ultimate fact is only the beginning of a new series."[footnote*:emerson] "while the earth remaineth seed-time and harvest . . . shall not cease." life leads on to new death, and new death back to life again. over and over when we think we know our lesson, we find ourselves beginning another round of god's divine spiral: "in deaths oft" is the measure of our growth, "always delivered unto death for jesus' sake, that the life also of jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh." this bit of sphagnum shows the process in miniature: stage after stage of dying has been gone through, and each has been all the while crowned with life. each time that the crown has sunk down again into death, that death has again been crowned in the act of dying: and the life all the time is the apparent thing: the daily dying that underlies it is out of sight to the passing glance. yes, life is the uppermost, resurrection life, radiant and joyful and strong, for we represent down here him who liveth and was dead and is alive for evermore. stress had to be laid in these pages on the death gateway, but a gateway is never a dwelling-place; the death-stage is never meant for our souls to stay and brood over, but to pass through with a will into the light beyond. we may and must, like the plants, bear its marks, but they should be visible to god rather than to man, for above all and through all is the inflowing, overflowing life of jesus: oh let us not dim it by a shadow of morbidness or of gloom: he is not a god of the dead, but a god of the living, and he would have us let the glory of his gladness shine out. think of the wonder of it--the fountain of life himself wells up within us, taking the place of all that we have delivered, bit by bit, into his grave. "i live, yet not i, but christ liveth in me." little have we proved, any of us, the resources that lie in that mighty indwelling, little have we learnt what it is to have all our soul-fibres penetrated by its power. may god lead us, no matter what the cost, into all that can be known of it, here on earth. and the results need not end with our earthly days. should jesus tarry our works will follow us. the closing in of the signs around us make it seem as if we should not taste of death, and as if the time left us to work and suffer for him were growing very short; but if that last gate has to be passed before our spirits are sent free into the land of perfect life, god may use, by reason of the wonderful solidarity of his church, the things that he has wrought in us, for the blessing of souls unknown to us: as these twigs and leaves of bygone years, whose individuality is forgotten, pass on vitality still to the new-born wood-sorrel. god only knows the endless possibilities that lie folded in each one of us! shall we not let him have his way? shall we not go all lengths with him in his plans for us--not, as these "green things upon the earth" in their unconsciousness, but with the glory of free choice? shall we not translate the story of their little lives into our own? for all their teaching of surrender and sacrifice is no fanciful mysticism; it is a simple reality that can be tested at every turn--nay, that must be so tested. if we are apprehending christ's death in its delivering power, our homes will not be slow to find it out. * * * * * * * * o jesus the crucied i will follow thee in thy path. inspire me for the next step, whether it leads down into the shadow of death or up into the light. surely in what place my lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even there also will thy servant be. amen. parables of the christ-life, by i. lilias trotter marshall brothers, ltd. london & edinburgh. to f.n.f. b.g.l.n. g.s.t. & a.m.e. 'fellow workers unto the kingdom of god.' life--the first glance would hardly find it on this african hillside in the summertime. the hot wind of the desert has passed over it, and the spring beauty of iris and orchid, asphodel and marigold, has vanished. nothing is to be seen but the mellow golden-brown of the grass, broken by blue-green aloe leaves, and here and there a deep madder head of dried-up fennel. yet life is reigning, not death, all the while; it is there, in infinitely greater abundance than when the field was green--life enough to clothe a score of fields next year. stoop down and look into that withered grass, and a whole new world of god's handiwork will come into view in the burnt-up tangle. for of all the growing things out here, the seed-vessels are among the most wonderful. even little insignificant plants that would hardly catch your eye when in flower, develop forms of quaint beauty as the capsules ripen. and now that all is finished, they lie stored with vitality in the midst of the seeming loss around. do you see the parable? we will trace it out step by step. back we must go, to the days of early spring. the annuals that clothed the field had each but one life then; a perishing life, though it looked so strong in its young vigour. left to itself, it stood "condemned already." but the critical moment came, changing its whole destiny, when a new birth took place: the vitalizing pollen was received by the pistil, and set up the reign of a fresh undying creation. all that had gone before in the plant's history was a preparation for this moment: all that followed was a working out to its fruition. "verily, verily i say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god." every soul carries like the flower a possible life, other than that of its first birth; more than that, to every soul within reach of the gospel there comes probably a moment when the life of god draws near and could be received if it were willing. there is a crisis like that which the flower reaches, when all things are ready. if that crisis is not seized, nothing lies before the plant but useless, irrevocable decay; the power to receive withers and vanishes; and nothing can renew it. "that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit. marvel not that i said unto thee, ye must be born again." "flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of god, neither doth corruption inherit incorruption." are you letting pass the moment on which all eternity hangs? * * * * * * the hour at which this new birth can take place in the flower is the hour at which the stigma is able to grasp the pollen that comes to it, blown by the wind or carried by the bees and butterflies. up till then the grains fall off unheeded; but now it develops a surface, glutinous in some cases, velvety in others, that can clasp and keep them fast. the pollen grains lay hold at the same moment by their sculptured points and ridges. they "apprehend" each other, and the pollen, with its mysterious quickening power, does the rest. as soon as it is received it sinks down into the innermost depths of the flower's heart, and starts there the beginning of the new creation. the most wonderful secrets of the plant world hang round the process of fertilisation, and the ways in which these springs of the second birth are guarded and set going, but the flower's simple work is to open and receive. "the gift of god is eternal life"--oh, marvellous words!--"through jesus christ our lord." "as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of god, even to them that believe on his name." "he that hath the son hath life, and he that hath not the son of god hath not life." "behold i stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, i will come in to him." it is utterly, unbelievably simple. receive jesus with a heart-grasp, and you will find, like the flower, a spring of eternal life, entirely distinct from your own, that is perishing, set working deep down in your inmost being. and all that is needed, for the fulfilment of god's uttermost purpose for you, is that this "new man" should be formed and that the old should pass away. from the very outset of its new birth we see this double process going on in the plant. within a few hours the throb of new life has spread through the flower, with this first result, that the petals begin to wither. fertilisation marks the striking of the death-blow to all that went before. look at a clover head; do you know why some of the spikes are upright and others turned downwards and fading? it is because these last have received the new tide, and the old is ebbing out already. the birth-peal and the death-knell rang together. fertilisation marks the death of the flower and the death of the flower the death of the annual, though the carrying out of its doom comes gradually. and in like manner the sentence of death passes, in the cross, on the old nature in its entirety, as the new comes into being. this is the one only basis and groundwork for all carrying out in our practical experience of what that death means. once for all let this be clear. apart from the work done on calvary, all working out of a death process in our own souls is only a false and dangerous mysticism... . "i have been crucified with christ." (r. v.)--yes, long before ever i asked to be--glory be to god! and yet as freshly as if it were yesterday, for time is nowhere with him. and simultaneously, in figure, in the little flower-heart, while "that which is natural" begins to fade, "that which is spiritual" dawns. the seed-vessel with its hidden treasure--the ultimate object of this miracle of quickening--begins immediately to form. it was within three days of "the heavenly vision" when the once rejected jesus was received by st. paul, that the commission came--"he is a chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name." a chosen vessel unto him. the seed-vessel belongs to the seed, only and for ever: it is formed for itself and has no purpose apart. separation has nothing austere and narrow in it when it is unto him. chosen vessels to bear his name--his personality; with all that is wrapped up in that name of fragrance and healing, authority and power; chosen to go about this weary sinful world with the living christ folded in our hearts, ready and able as of old to meet the need around. is not this a calling for which it is worth counting, as st. paul did, all things but loss? chosen vessels--there is the vessel and there is the treasure in it, for ever distinct, though in wonderful union, like the seed-vessel and the seed: the one enshrines the other. god builds up a shrine within us of his workmanship, from the day in which jesus was received. the seed-vessel is its picture. with the old nature he can have nothing to do except to deliver it to death: no improving can fit it for his purpose, any more than the leaf or tendril, however beautiful, can be the receptacle of the seed. there must be "a new creation" (r.v., margin), "the new man," to be the temple of the divine life. and as the petals drop off, and the growing seed-vessel comes into view, we see a fresh individuality developed. compare in these four pages some of the seed-vessels of a single family--vetch and clover: we found over thirty species of it in that one field of the frontispiece. these will show something of their extraordinary variety--we have bunches of horns great and small, and bunches of imitation centipedes, and bunches of mock holly leaves, prickly coils and velvety balls; mimic concertinas, and bits of quaint embroidery; imitation snail-shells, croziers, pods with frills at the seams, spiked caskets with curious indentations, clusters of stars, bladders like soft paper, and plaited spirals wound into a tiny cocoanut, that, untwisted, becomes a minature crown of thorns--are they not all a visible expression of the thoughts that are more than can be numbered? and the greater part spring from little unnoticeable flowers, so alike in their yellow or pink that you have to look closely in order to find out any difference! it is the seed-bearing that gives them their individual character. and the same god has manifold plans for our development too, as vessels for his christ-life. it is by the divine indwelling that our true, eternal personality dawns, and for the expression of the special manifestation of himself which is entrusted to each one of us. the protoplasm that quickens each different seed is one and the same essence, but in no two does it find the same expression. he needs the whole church to manifest his whole character and accomplish his appointed ministry, and so the individual development must differ widely in everything but the common vital principle. life--eternal life--is the essence of all--life receiving and life-giving. there is no need to imitate the seed-vessel of a brother vetch!--only to draw into our own the fulness of grace that we may develop into its full individuality the mission entrusted to us. there is nothing arbitrary in these differing shapes of the seed-vessels. if we look closely, we shall find that they are formed in union with the seed that each contains--it is this that determines the form of each, and builds it up. see these few instances: the peas need their long pod with its daintily-cushioned divisions, to allow each little globe to round itself to perfection; the crescent-shaped seeds of this other vetch, each set into its own place again, form the distinctive character of their different sheath--so do the tiny rod-shaped ones of the third vetch, which clothe themselves in a segmented rod in turn. while on the other hand the fine sand-like grain of this snap-dragon needs storing in a capsule--such a quaint one it is (whether most like a bird or a mouse sitting on a twig is hard to say)--but it is a perfectly adapted treasure-bag for the delicate things, and when they are ripe the two eyes open, and the wind shakes the seed out by them! each one lays itself out for the special trust committed to it. is it not the same wonderful fashioner who fits us and our ministry together, and forms us through it with unerring precision, preparing us for the white stone and the new name which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it, eternity's seal on the heavenly individuality of each. that eternal future will show how the lord had need of each of us in our varying character, and how all that made up this earthly life fitted us for "bearing about" the special manifestation of jesus entrusted to us, in which no other could take our place. he needs us, every one of us, as if there were no other besides. * * * * * * but we will go back from this glimpse of god's ultimate purpose for us, to watch the process by which it is reached, so far as we can trace it in the ripening of the little annuals. the figure will not give us all the steps by which god gets his way in the intricacies of a human soul: we shall see no hint in it of the cleansing and filling that is needed in sinful man before he can follow the path of the plant. it shows us some of the divine principles of the new life rather than a set sequence of experience; above all, the parable gives a lesson that most of us only begin to learn after pentecost has become a reality to us--the lesson of walking, not after the flesh, but after the spirit. the flesh--the life of nature--is all, good and bad alike, that we had and were before christ came to us. we see its shadow in the life of root and stem, leaf and tendril and petal, that made up the plant before its new birth took place; "for all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field." it is not only that which is sinful as opposed to that which is holy: it is that which is human as opposed to that which is divine. in the earlier stage of the seed-vessel's growth we see the two lives, the old and the new, practically going on alongside. and can we not remember, many of us, in our own history, how the self life went almost untouched and unrecognised, for years, while all the time christ was growing within us, and our ministry was being given? let us look at the seed-vessels, well set and forming fast, with their natural life all unbroken as yet, and learn to be very tender and patient with the early stages of god's work in those around. but though the two may exist for a time side by side, they cannot flourish together. the crisis must come to us as to the annual, when the old creation begins to go down into the grave, and the new begins to triumph at its cost. in the plant life the two are absolutely and for ever separate--there is no possibility of confounding the perishable existence of leaf and stalk with the newborn seed-vessel and its hidden riches. in the heavenly light the distinction stands out as ineffaceably. "that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit." but our eyes are too dim at first to distinguish them in detail: with most of us it is only when the cleansing blood has dealt with the question of known sin, and the spirit's incoming has cleared our vision, that the two lives, natural and spiritual, begin to stand out before us, no longer shading into each other, but in vivid contrast. the word of god in the hand of the holy ghost pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and we see bit by bit as we can bear it, how we have made provision for the flesh, given occasion to the flesh, had confidence in the flesh, warred after the flesh, judged after the flesh, purposed after the flesh, known each other after the flesh. the carnal nature with its workings stands out as the hindrance in the way of the divine, and the time comes when we see that no more growth is possible to the christ in us unless a deliverance comes here. we are helpless in the matter. there is no system of self-repression or self-mortification that will do anything but drive the evil below the surface, there to do a still more subtle work, winding down out of reach. the roots will only strike deeper and the sap flow stronger for the few leaves trimmed off here and there. if self sets to work to slay self it will only end in rising hydra-headed from the contest. how is the deliverance to come? the annuals give us the secret. look back at the vetch seed-vessels. why is it that the leaves which used to stand firm and fresh like those of the flowering clover, have begun to shrivel and turn yellow? it is because they have acquiesced wholly now in the death sentence of their new birth, and they are letting the new life live at the expense of the old. death is being wrought out by life. and the same triumphant power of the new life is set free as we come to accept to its utmost limits the sentence of calvary, that "our old man was crucified with him," in its sum-total, seen and unseen, root and branch. christ is our life now--our only life--and we begin to find that he is dealing with the old creation, we hardly know how. we only know that as we bring the judgment, the motive, the aim that were ours, not his, into contact with him, they shrivel and wither like the dying leaves. the impulses and the shrinkings of the flesh perish in his presence alike. the new life wrecks the old. "if ye through the spirit do mortify the deeds of the body ye shall live"--that is what the withering leaves say. we are "saved by his life." the great north african aloe plant shows this very strikingly. it is like our annuals on a large scale, for it flowers and seeds but once in its career, though that numbers more years than these can count weeks. up till then its thick hard leaves look as if nothing could exhaust their vigour. the flower stalk pushes up from a fresh sheaf of them--up and up twelve or fourteen feet--and expands into a candelabra of golden blossom, and not a droop comes in the plant below. but as the seed forms, we see that life is working death, slowly and surely; the swords lose their stiffness and colour and begin to hang helplessly, and by the time it is ripe, every vestige of vitality is drained away from them, and they have gone to limp, greyish-brown streamers. the seed has possessed itself of everything. and the meadow plants that we have been watching follow, on their small pattern, the same law. all gives way to the ripening seed. in the grasses the very root perishes by the time the grain is yellow, and comes up whole if you try to break the stem. they "reign in life" above through the indwelling seed, while all that is "corruptible" goes down into dust below. they have let all go to life--the enduring life: they are not taken up with the dying--that is only a passing incident--everything is wrapped up into the one aim, that the seed may triumph at any cost. death is wrought out almost unconsciously: the seed has done it all. can we not trace the same dealing in our souls as, slowly, tenderly, all that nourished that which is carnal is withdrawn, giving way to the forming of the christ life in its place? his thoughts and desires and ways begin to dethrone ours as the aloe seed dethrones its leaves and casts them to the ground. "he must increase, but i must decrease." and the outward dealings co-operate with the inward. it is just in the very corner of everyday life where god has put us, that this can take place, and the surrounding influences can have their share in bringing down to death the old nature. it is no mystical, imaginary world that draws out the latent forms of self, but the commonplace, matter-of-fact world about us. it is in contact with others, for the most part, that the humbling discoveries of the workings of the flesh come, on the one hand, and on the other we find ourselves breaking down in one after another of our strongest points. and all these things that seem against us are really doing a blessed work--they are "the wind of the lord" coming "up from the wilderness" to "spoil the treasure" of all that is of former days. everything that is "natural," good and bad alike, must go down into death before its blast, when god takes it in hand--all that we can lean upon in outward things, all clinging to the visible and the transitory; and with this result, that our arms clasp closer and closer round the eternal seed, christ in us the hope of glory--known no longer after the flesh, but by the mighty revelation of the holy ghost. all this is shadowed forth in the story of these southern plants; one day's sirocco in may will turn a field, bright with the last flowers, into a brown wilderness, where the passing look sees nothing but ruin--yet in that one day the precious seed will have taken a stride in its ripening that it would have needed a month of ordinary weather to bring about; it will have drawn infinite life out of the fiery breath that made havoc with the outward and visible. "the grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because the spirit of the lord bloweth upon it." but "our light affliction" (and from the context we see that spiritual trial is included there) "which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory--while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." in all the breaking down on the human side, the hidden treasure is left not only unhurt but enriched. everything that wrecks our hopes of ourselves, and our earthly props, is helping forward infinitely god's work in us. so "we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day." god's purpose for us is that we should be seed-vessels; all the rest may go down into nothingness, for it "profiteth nothing." the plant does not faint in its inner heart. little does it matter what happens to the "corruptible": each fading of the outward only marks a corresponding development of the "incorruptible" within. "what things were gain to me" (the words seem echoed from the fading leaves and the ripening seed), "those i counted loss for christ. yea, doubtless, and i count all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of christ jesus my lord: for whom i have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that i may win christ." "this one thing i do." "they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the spirit, the things of the spirit." the plant has nothing to "mind" now but the treasure it bears. its aim has grown absolutely simple. in old days there was the complexity of trying to carry on two lives at once, nourishing root and stem, leaf and flower and tendril, alongside the seed-vessel and the seed. all that is over. it withdraws itself quietly into the inner shrine where god is working out that which is eternal. it has chosen, in figure, that good part which shall not be taken away: it is pressing towards the mark for the prize of its calling. pressing, but in perfect rest. "they toil not, neither do they spin," these plants, in their seed-bearing any more than in their flowering. and when we have learnt something of their surrender, we are ready for their secret of waiting on god's inworking. how long we are in grasping that we are his workmanship, even as they--in discovering the simple fact that it is exactly as impossible by our own striving to develop the christ-life in our hearts as to form the seed in the pod! we have not to produce out of our higher nature a lowliness and a patience and a purity of our own, but simply to let the pure, patient, lowly life of jesus have its way in us by yieldingness to it and by faith in its indwelling might. "all that god wants from man is opportunity." the whole of our relationship to his power, whether for sanctification or for service, is summed up in those words. surrender--stillness--a ready welcoming of all stripping, all loss, all that brings us low, low into the lord's path of humility--a cherishing of every whisper of the spirit's voice, every touch of the prompting that comes to quicken the hidden life within: that is the way god's human seed-vessels ripen, and christ becomes "magnified" even through the things that seem against us. "mine but to be still: thine the glorious power, thine the mighty will." and it is not only the siroccos that help forward his purpose for us! the "clear heat" and the midnight dews all minister together: "the sun to rule the day" when his light and sweetness flood our souls;--the darkness--the cloudless darkness--of a walk by faith when "the moon and the stars" of the promises alone are visible: "his mercy endureth for ever" through all alike and he uses them to their utmost that christ may be formed in us. for the spirit of abandonment has to be carried into our spiritual life, as well as into the things that only touch the natural. the seed-vessel has to go down into death as well as the leaf. look at it as it begins to pass into the valley of that shadow and its strength begins to ebb away. it is only getting ready by its weakening, for the service to which it has been called. long ago we imagined, it may be, an enduement of power from on high in which we should have a conscious supply of the heavenly energising--a conscious equipment for every service--a reservoir of divine might that could be drawn on at will. but watch the seed-vessel as the hour comes near in which its ministry can be fulfilled; there is only weakness greater than ever before. "it is sown in weakness"; only in the raising does the power come into play. "i was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. and my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the spirit and of power: that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of god." "the weak things of the world hath god chosen." "we are weak with him" (margin)--oh! words of wonderful grace and sweetness. there is nothing but rest in being brought low "with him." and not only must our service feel this weakening touch: it must go deeper yet. our experiences, the blessed hours of opened heavens, must be held with a loose hand. we saw the life withdrawn before from the leaves of the old creation into the seed-vessel of the new. now it is withdrawn further still, as ripeness comes, from the seed-vessel into the seed. in the early stages of christian path we are apt to be much taken up, and rightly, with the spiritual processes by which god is working in us. but in the "ripeness of maturity" (the real sense of "perfect" in col. i. , and elsewhere) he has something better for us. "i live; yet not i, but christ liveth in me." he wants to bring us from clinging to the emotional on one hand, and on the other from morbid introspection: for perhaps one of the chief dangers besetting those who are following hard after him, lies in getting taken up with these inner experiences (it is awfully possible for the devil to rivet the chains of self back on a soul even in the very act of watching the death process going on within it, getting it absorbed even with its own dying!). let us come as fast as we can to letting the seed-vessel go as well as the leaves, god wants to bring us to a life of childlike simplicity, taken up with his christ; always lower and lower at his feet in the consciousness of shortcoming and unworthiness as his glory shines, but with our spiritual selves and all their intricacies fading out of sight before him. as we go on, we learn to draw the supply of every need for spirit and soul and body from the simplest, barest, most direct contact with him. all the intervening tissues in the seed-vessel melt away. "you have learnt the death of self when there is nothing between your bare heart and jesus." yes; when the seed is ripe it fills up the whole of the husk--there is no room left for anything else: the walls shrivel to a mere shell. this is the calling of the bride--to have no room for anything but jesus. blessed are they who hear it and respond. look at the parable. the life of leaf and tendril has shrunk away, but there is nothing sad about the dying of the seed-vessel. what lovely things they are, these little burnt offerings! their bright golden browns look far happier than the greens of spring. and they have come now to a point of beautiful heedless freedom about the future. when once the last shade of green that marks a clinging to the old days has vanished, all carefulness for the earthly side of things vanishes too. no matter how soon now the last strand of earthly support and supply gives way: its loss is not felt. the life is "hid" with such a hiding that nothing from around can touch it. the fiercest summer glow only causes the little germ to wrap itself close together in happy recklessness, the careless feet that tread it down can only hasten the burial that is its next stage onward, the autumn storms can bring it nothing but fresh draughts of quickening. yes, our life is hid with christ in god, in actual truth as well in god's purpose, if it has come to this that it is "no longer" we that live but christ that liveth in us. oh! the simplicity of that "no longer"--as the seed-vessel pictures it now, taken up with the seed it bears, and heedless of itself and whatever may come. and yet, in the absolute simplicity, there is a depth of mystery that the former days never knew. it is like a soul that has come into the holiest, where it has god alone. * * * * * * and now we turn to the other side, to watch what god can do, in the world around, with the christ-life that he creates in us. we have seen its in-flowing: we will follow its outflow. to be to jesus all for which he has called us--letting him have his way utterly with us, possessed by him, taken up with him--that is the first purpose for our souls. but the father's plan for us reaches wider than that, though it can reach no deeper. "the first adam was made a living soul; the last adam was made a quickening spirit." his ultimate aim is to set free for his own use that which he has wrought in us in secret, and to give us the power of communicating that divine life of which we have been made partakers. we are to be "good stewards of the manifold grace of god," entrusted with "the true riches" to minister for him--his for his spending. the promise to abraham: "i will bless thee ... and thou shalt be a blessing," gives the double purpose for his people--"grace" for our own souls, and "apostleship" for those around. we have seen in parable, in the seed's growing and ripening, the work of the spirit within us, forming the life of jesus, and bringing down the flesh into the grave. in its scattering we see shadowed forth the spirit upon us in his power of reaching other souls. there is no needs be with us that this double work should be consecutive as in the plants--it may go on simultaneously. there is never a moment, from the first receiving of christ as saviour, when the full outpouring of the holy ghost may not take place--never a moment when, in figure, the seed may not be set free. there are some few who leap down, as soon as they are saved, to the simple, bare, lowly faith which liberates god's power, and he can use them mightily all along, but they are very few. practically in most cases there is time involved, because we take so long to unlearn our own sufficiency and our own resources, and even after we have received the promise of the spirit through faith, we are puzzled, it may be, by a want of continuity in his outflow. it is because, before god can get us to the place where he can send him through us in a steady tide, we have to go lower than we dreamed of at first: and he may have to stop using us for a time, that he may deepen this work within, and bring us to utter brokenness. look at the last stage in the plant, before the inwrought life is free for use. there is a breaking-up and a breaking-down such as it never had before. such brittleness comes as the seed ripens that it is almost impossible to pick some of the stems without cracking them in two or three places. the ripened seed-vessels share the same brittleness: you can hardly touch them without the whole crown falling to pieces in your hand. conscious weakness, as a preparation for service, is one thing: brokenness is another. we may know that we are but earthen pitchers, like gideon's, with nothing of our own but the light within, and yet we may not have passed through the shattering that sheds the light forth. this does not mean something vague or imaginary, but intensely practical. read the description that paul gives of the life of ministry--the apostolic life--and see what it is to be a shattered seed-vessel; it is no dreamy experience in the clouds! "let a man so account of us, as of the ministers of christ, and stewards of the mysteries of god... . we are made a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and to men. we are fools for christ's sake, but ye are wise in christ; we are weak, but ye are strong; ye are honourable, but we are despised. even unto this present hour we both hunger and thirst and are naked and have no certain dwelling-place. and labour, working with our own hands: being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it, being defamed, we intreat; we are made as the filth of the world, and are the offscouring of all things unto this day." "seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not... . but we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of god, and not of us. we are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the lord jesus, that the life also of jesus might be made manifest in our body. for we which live are alway delivered unto death for jesus' sake, that the life also of jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh." "in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of god, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings. ... by honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report: as deceivers and yet true; as unknown and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." "are they ministers of christ? (i speak as a fool) i am more; in labours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. of the jews five times received i forty stripes save one. thrice was i beaten with rods, once was i stoned, thrice i suffered shipwreck, a night and a day i have been in the deep; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness. besides those things that are without, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the churches... . i take pleasure in infirmities, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for christ's sake: for when i am weak, then am i strong." do you notice that in each passage these are given as the marks of "ministry"? such were what paul found to be the conditions of spiritual power. their absence among us may account for its absence too! oh! how little we know of them in the midst of the spirit of luxury that is around us in the world and of the easy-going christianity of the church! we cannot all be honoured by our service finding the same outward expression as his, in its bodily stress and suffering, but is there among us even a seeking after its spirit? "this is sacrifice, 'death in us, life in you.'--in us, emptiness, weakness, suffering, pressure, perplexity. in you life--life--life! as if paul would say, 'the more i am pressed above measure, the more the life of jesus is abundant in its outflow, and in its quickening of other lives.' this is the apostolic life. through the eternal spirit, christ offered himself to god. through the same spirit shall we be enabled to walk in his steps, and to rejoice in ... sufferings ... and fill up ... that which is lacking of the afflictions of christ in my flesh for his body's sake, which is the church.'" [footnote*:"the message of the cross"--mrs. penn-lewis.] yes, it is a broken spirit that we need--a spirit keeping no rights before god or man, longing to go down, down, anywhere, if other souls may be blessed. it is an indefinable thing, this brokenness, and yet it is as unmistakable when it has been wrought, as that of the seed-vessel in the field. god has his promise for those "who sow in tears": those to whom to be a channel of divine communication to the world means soul burden and travail. it is they who are bound to "reap in joy." and as we look at these broken-up seed-vessels, we can read a warning as to our dealings with others, as well as the lesson to ourselves. if such brokenness as this is the condition of god's power upon us, what of the danger of making much of the instruments that he uses? if we do so even in thought, it will unconsciously show itself in manner and tone, and the subtle influence may reach them and be used of the devil to build again in a moment that which god had been long breaking down, and so stay the tide he had at last with infinite pains set free. "who then is paul, and who is apollos, but ministers by whom ye believed, even as the lord gave to every man? i have planted, apollos watered; but god gave the increase. so then neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth; but god that giveth the increase." * * * * * * and now we can turn at last to see in our picture-book the result of all this fading and stripping and breaking: no outcome as yet that will catch the eye of sense, yet full of eternal possibilities. what a marvel it is, this seed "endynamited" for its ministry! just an atom of whiteness, folded up in its smooth brown shell. opposite p. you see the two tiny specks in the splitting pod; does it not seem incredible that anything can come out of them? could we imagine anything more insignificant? and yet they are brimful of a vitality that will last (given the necessary conditions) "while the earth remaineth," through harvest after harvest in ever-widening circles. equally unimportant from the point of view of "the natural man" is the heavenly seed that god gives his people to scatter. "the things of the spirit of god ... are foolishness unto him." "the kingdom of god cometh not with observation." his beginnings are always very feeble things. it is out of the hour of its greatest apparent extremity, moreover, that the seed launches out to its ministry. there was a time, a few weeks earlier, when you could, if you examined it, trace the future plant in embryo; the two seed-leaves and the rootlet were all visible in shades of exquisite green; but all this dries up when maturity comes, till there is not a sign of life left in it. everything that is brilliant and beautiful is withdrawn and shrouded in the "bare grain" when we strip off the sheath and hold it in our hand: everything has gone down in defiant faith to the last ebb. nothing is left to it, as far as we can discern, but the invisible, miracle-working power of god. shall we not learn of the dried-up seed, to rejoice when in our seed-sowing we are shut up to god alone--when every shade of hope and promise to the eyes of sense, have faded like the baby seed-leaves in the germ? "so is the kingdom of god, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how." to sow heavenly seed means to give way to him in the promptings that are sure to come as soon as he finds us broken enough for him to be able to send them. it is a direct passing on of that which comes to us from god, stripped of all self-effort: the message spoken "not in the words which man's wisdom teacheth, but which the holy ghost teacheth": the work done "striving according to his working which worketh in us mightily": the prayer that knows not what it should pray for as it ought, and yields itself to his "intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered." these are the things which, small as they are in this world's count, have the very pulse of eternity beating through them. nothing but that which he inspires can carry quickening power: no experience--no spirituality even, can set the spark alight. it is not the seed-vessel that can do the work, any more than a bit of leaf-stalk or flower petal, but simply and only the seed. "it is the spirit that quickeneth." "i believe in the holy ghost, the lord and giver of life." hallelujah! let us watch the seed-shedding, and see what it can teach us about sowing to the spirit. * * * * * * there is a definite moment at which the seed is ripe for being liberated--that is the first thing we notice: and at that moment it is absolutely ready for its work. the storing of the nourishment for the young plant began on the very day when the new life entered the flower long ago, and it is finished now. all prepared too are the hooks, or spikes, or gummy secretions, needed to anchor it to the ground, and so to give a purchase to the embryo shoot when the time comes for it to heave its tombstone and come out to the light. even its centre of gravity is so adjusted that, in falling from the sheath, the germ is in the very best position for its future growth. if it is torn out of the husk a day too soon, all this marvellous preparation will be wasted and come to nothing. can we not read our parable? how often we have had an impulse or a plan which we knew to be of god, with a flash of intuition, or with a gathering certainty: and the temptation has come to carry it straight off by ourselves, without waiting his time--the very temptation that beset the master in the wilderness. oh! let us learn of him the lesson of letting god's seed-purposes ripen!--they can bear no fruit till they have come to their maturity: we shall but waste all he was preparing if we drag it out before its time. and only in a path in which we are learning to do nothing of ourselves but what we see the father do, can we know when his hour is come. how accurately jesus knew it! "i go not up yet unto this feast, for my time is not yet full come," he said to his brethren--and yet in a day or two he was there. "mine hour is not yet come," he said to his mother, when it was only a question of minutes. and by what marvellous insight he recognised the dawning of that final "hour" when he was asked for by those nameless greeks--a hint of the ingathering of the travail of his soul! god can give us the same divine instinct, when he has weaned us from our natural energy and impatience. and when his hour has struck, the whole powers of the world to come will be set free in the tiny helpless seed. "one day is with the lord as a thousand years." he is a god worth waiting for! and there is another thing closely linked with this patience in the seed-shedding. as we watch it going on in nature, we see how it is all done in cooperation with the forces at work outside itself. the wind knocks off and tosses away the dainty shutde-cocks of the scabious as they ripen one by one, and the pods wait for the hot touch of the sun to split them with the sudden contracting twist that sends the grains flying, like stones from a sling. more wonderfully still we see this "working together" in the seeding of the cranesbill. the seeds stand together as they ripen, like arrows in a quiver, with their points downwards, and their feathered shafts straight up. when the time for action comes, the sun-heat peels them off, from below and above, so quickly that you can see them cue under your eyes, and turn into a spiral by their continued contractions. they fall, spike downward, by the weight of the seed, and the sun finishes the work he began. closer still the gimlet winds, and as it does so it bores down into the hardest soil: and such is their strange power of penetration, as they are driven in, spite of all their weakness, that they bury themselves up to the very hilt, leaving only the last long curve flat on the surface. then this snaps off, and leaves the head deep hidden. the spear-like grass you see opposite p. follows the same rule: it is so sensitive to the heat that even the warmth of one's hand will set it twisting and thrusting its barb in. cannot we trust the god who planned them, to give us arrows that will be sharp in the hearts of his enemies, and to drive them home? at each fresh adaptation of the plants to their aim, we hear an echo of the words of jesus, "shall he not much more clothe you, o ye of little faith?" and the restfulness of waiting god's hour for seed-shedding deepens as we learn to recognise the outward dealings of the spirit as well as the inward, and watch the marked way in which he co-operates with the setting free of every seed as it ripens--how he brings across our path the soul who needs the very lesson he has just been teaching us--how the chance comes with perfect naturalness of reaching another over whom we have been longing. if our eyes are up, and our hands are off--if we learn to "wait on our ministering" like the seeds, in utter dependence on him, we shall be able constantly to trace the lord's working with us, and we shall have done with all the old restless striving to make opportunities--"we are labourers together with god." yes, it all centres round that question of quietness. "opportunity" is given to every seed in its turn, as they lie in their layers in the capsule, or side by side in the pod. not one forces its way forward, or gets in the way of another. look at the exquisite fitting in any seed-vessel that you pull to pieces: the seeds are as close as they will go, but fenced off from crowding on each other and hindering each other's growth. he who packed them can be trusted, surely, with the arranging of our lives, that nothing may jostle in them, and nothing be wasted, for we are "of more value" to him than these. if our days are a constant rush and hurry, week in and week out, there is grave reason to doubt if it is all god-given seed that we are scattering. he will give us no more to do than can be done with our spirits kept quiet and ready and free before him. quiet and ready and free--that is another lesson that the seeds teach us. off they go at a touch, at the moment when the inward preparedness and the outward opportunity coalesce. see the tiny corkscrews of the pink geranium in our meadow (a miniature of its blue brother the cranesbill). look at the poise of them--and then at the sheaf of spears of this bit of grass, holding themselves freer still, and the downy head alongside, equally ready either to hold together or to fly with a breath ... and then look at our lives and see whether that is their attitude towards the holy ghost. is there a soul poise that corresponds? oh! the pains that god has to take to bring us to this happy, childlike "abandon," equally ready for silence, or for saying or doing unhesitatingly the next thing he calls for, unfettered by surroundings or consequences. how much reserve and self-consciousness have to give way with some of us, before the absolute control passes into his hands, and the responsibility with it! then only can we know the "liberty," the "boldness," the "utterance" of pentecost. "whithersoever the spirit was to go they went, thither was their spirit to go:" that is "the perfect law of liberty." yes, and that brings us a step further in the teachings of the seed-shedding. off they go now, "every one straight forward"--off and onward to the place appointed. look at the golden plough of the wild oat, with every spike and hair so set that it slips forwards and will not be pushed backwards. look at the hooks and the barbs that cling to anything and everything that passes by if only they can carry their seed away and away. look at the balls and the wheels that roll before the wind, and the parachutes and baby shuttlecocks that sail upon it: they all have a passion for getting far off, and they only show us a few of the numberless devices by which the same end is reached in plants of all lands. do you know why they want to scatter? it is because god planned the rotation of crops, long before it ever entered a farmer's brain! around the parent stem the soil is exhausted of the chemical elements that were used in building it up, and if the seeds all fell straight down there, they could not reach their full development; so they have all these devices for travelling far away, where in supplying the needs of the barren places, their own are met it was even so with jesus, god's "corn of wheat": did he not need this needy world to bring out his love and power? are not our empty hearts now "the riches of his inheritance"? and the christ-life in us, developed and set free, will go by its very nature reaching out and spending itself wherever there is want, in love and longing for the bare places and the far-off. the spirit will carry our hearts and sympathies and prayers away and beyond the tiny circle around us, of our personal interests and our own work, into fellowship with the father about the world he loves--fellowship with the son over the church for which he gave himself: "not seeking our own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved." perhaps he will carry us away our very selves, to some waste corner! "he that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he that soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. let each man do according as he had purposed in his heart; not grudgingly, or of necessity, for god loveth a cheerful giver. and god is able to make all grace abound unto you; that ye, having always all sufficiency in everything, may abound unto every good work: as it is written, he hath scattered abroad, he hath given to the poor; his righteousness abideth for ever. and he that supplieth seed to the sower and bread for food, shall supply and multiply your seed for sowing, and increase the fruits of your righteousness: ye being enriched in everything unto all liberality, which worketh through us thanksgiving to god" (r.v.). and as part of the enriching in everything unto all liberality, god can give us all the ingenuity of love in scattering broadcast spirit-filled, spirit-sent seed that he has figured in the seed-vessels--the heaven-given inspiration as to how to lay out his treasures to their uttermost--how to secure to him the highest return out of our lives, as they do. yes, the "return" is to him, as again we see in parable with the plants. they show us a love that seeketh not her own: no one knows whence the seeds come when they reach their journey's end: no glory can possibly gather round the plants that surrendered their lives to form and shed them. they just give and give, with no aim but to be bare footstalks when all is done. everything is loosened and spent without a shade of calculation or self-interest. "not unto us, o lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory," they are all saying in spirit: they teach us absolute indifference as to whether our service is appreciated or even recognised, so long as the work is done and the lord is glorified. the plant itself asks for nothing to keep, nothing to show, nothing to glory in from its whole life toil. nothing to glory in--god cannot get his whole glory while man gets any. that seems a truism, but do we realise the fact? "herein is my father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." if that is our one aim, as it was in the soul of jesus, it is bound to be realised. let him work this in us too--this simple, absolute, absorbing passion of his years on earth. and then we shall have, as he had, that independence of visible results that we have just seen in the plants. he left the world--this one world out of his mighty universe in which god had come to dwell--with no more to be seen from his travail than a few hundred brethren, every one of whom had forsaken him only six weeks before, and of whom but a hundred and twenty had enough purpose of heart to follow on to pentecost. and still he could say, "yet surely my judgment is with the lord, and my work with my god." and though israel was "not gathered," he was "glorious in the eyes of the lord" and "made his salvation to the ends of the earth." for it was life that had been sown. so no matter, if we never see the full up-springing on earth of the spirit-seed scattered. it is all the more likely that god may trust us with a great multiplying if our faith does not need to witness it. he can grant us spiritual harvests out of sight, of which he only gains the glory. in "the things which christ hath ... wrought by us ... by the power of the spirit of god" there is a multiplying energy that can reach, not single souls only, but other souls through them: a holy ghost touch that can fire trains, so to speak, far reaching beyond the sphere of what we see or know. such is the power of multiplication in the earthly seeds that it needs a constant battle, and the survival of the fittest, to keep us from being overrun with one and another. the henbane, for instance (by no means the most prolific) would, they say, if every seed had its way every year for five years, produce from a single plant ten thousand billions--enough to cover the whole area of the dry land of the world, allowing seventy-three plants to the square metre.[footnote*: "natural history of plants"--kerner and oliver] perhaps god permits the seeming waste of such an overwhelming proportion of the seed formed, to show us the fountain of life that there is in him; and to teach us that there is no straitening in the spirit of the lord. "there is no limit" (as someone has said) "to what god can do with a man, provided he will not touch the glory." and god's possibilities for these germs of spirit-life are not bound by time. jesus is drawing so near that already our thoughts and hopes begin to step over the shrinking foreground of "the present age," and to rest in the ever-opening horizon beyond. who can tell what harvest after harvest may be waiting in the eternal years, after the summer of earth has faded into the far past? yes, we have to do with one who "inhabiteth" eternity and works in its infinite leisure. some years ago, when a new railway cutting was made in east norfolk, you could trace it through the next summer, winding like a blood-red river through the green fields. poppy seeds that must have lain buried for generations had suddenly been upturned and had germinated by the thousand. the same thing happened a while back in the canadian woods. a fir-forest was cut down, and the next spring the ground was covered with seedling oaks, though not an oak-tree was in sight. unnumbered years before there must have been a struggle between the two trees, in which the firs gained the day, but the acorns had kept safe their latent spark of life underground, and it broke out at the first chance. and if we refuse to stay our faith upon results that we can see and measure, and fasten it on god, he may be able to keep wonderful surprises wrapt away in what looks now only waste and loss. what an up-springing there will be when heavenly light and air come to the world at last, in the setting up of christ's kingdom! the waste places may see "a nation born in a day." all that matters is that our part should be done. we are responsible for sowing to the spirit--responsible, with an awful responsibility, that power should be set free in our lives, power that shall prevail with god and with men--responsible like the seed-vessel, for fulfilling our ministry to the last and uttermost. let the cry be on our hearts, as it was on the heart of jesus, to "finish the work" that the father has given us. "my meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." on he went with it, though it cost him the strong crying and tears of gethsemane to fight through to the end--to live on to the "it is finished" of calvary. is it our souls' hunger and thirst that, before he comes, we may have given every message he had for us to deliver--prevailed in every intercession to which he summoned us--"distributed" for his kingdom and "the necessity of saints" every shilling he wanted--shared with him every call to "the fellowship of his sufferings" for others--pouted out his love and sympathy and help as he poured them out on earth? are we longing that he should find when he comes no unspent treasure, no talent laid up in a napkin, like the unshed seed in its shelly fold? are we acting as if it were our longing? "by him actions" (not longings) "are weighed!" take one more look at our meadow. the summer days are cooling down, and the storms have begun to come. the ground is bare and blackened, the stalks and leaves are battered to shreds: but seeds are everywhere. the earth is strewn with the husks. whence they come none can tell, and they are broken down into nothingness. all is death--death reigning. the first showers are only bringing in a fresh stage of it where all seemed dead before, beating them, bleached and weather-worn and split, into the softened mould. everything is quiet, for the seeds have gone down into the resting stage through which they all have to pass, whether it is during the frost in england, or the burning african summer. do we not know the counterpart in the inner world, when spirit-seed has been shed, and a strange waiting-time comes in which nothing happens--a silence on god's part in which death has to be allowed to reign before it is swallowed up in victory? but all is on the very verge of a flood-tide of life, for the seed-vessel has reached its highest ministry now. the last wrappings are torn, and from every rent and breach the bare grain is shed forth and brought into direct contact with the soil: and suddenly, as if by miracle, the quickening comes, and the emerald shoot is to be seen. can we read our last lesson? here, in service, we see the same goal being reached as in the soul's inner history. both end in absolute simplicity, in christ alone. for the highest aim of ministry is to bring his immediate presence into contact with others--so to bring him and them face to face that he can act on them directly, while we stand aside, like john the baptist, rejoicing greatly. we used to look at our inner life as separate from our service: but as we go on they merge into one--christ--the same christ; whether folded to our hearts in his secret temple, like the seed in its husk, or set free in contact with those around to carry on his quickening work--all and only christ. "christ the beginning, and the end is christ." we saw how the soul's first step is to let him in as its life: the last step in a sense can go no further. it is only that the apprehension of him has increased, and the hindrances and limitings have been swept away. christ--christ--christ--filling all the horizon. everything in us: everything to us: everything through us. "to live is christ."--amen. leaves of life for daily inspiration by margaret bird steinmetz the bible text used in this book is taken from the american standard edition of the revised bible, copyright, , by thomas nelson & sons, and is used by permission. dedicated to those who have helped in gathering these leaves--and to those who may gather something from them. acknowledgments the macmillan company, new york, n.y. shailer mathews, jane addams, newell dwight hillis, marion crawford. the century company, new york, n.y. s. weir mitchell, theodore roosevelt, john kendrick bangs, richard watson gilder, edith thomas. oxford university press, london, e.c. annie matheson. the saalfield publishing company, akron, ohio. joseph jefferson. mitchell kennerley, new york. theodosia garrison: my litany. thomas y. crowell company, new york, n.y. charles w. eliot: the durable satisfactions of life. j.r. miller. the pilgrim press, boston, mass. henry ward beecher. harper & brothers, new york, n.y. will carleton: farm legends. margaret e. sangster: easter bells. elbert hubbard, roycroft shop, east aurora, n.y. printed by special permission of the publishers. w.b. conkey, hammond, ind. ella wheeler wilcox, copyrighted . national w.c.t.u., evanston, ill. frances e. willard. american baptist publication society, philadelphia, pa. w.e. winks. rand, mcnally & company, chicago, ill. marie bashkirtseff. tennesseean and american, nashville, tenn. g. rice. cosmopolitan magazine, new york, n.y. o. henry. the h.m. rowe company, baltimore, md. edwin leibfreed: poems. permission from president wilson for the excerpts from his speeches. houghton mifflin company, boston, mass. kate douglas wiggin, richard watson gilder, josephine peabody, john hay, hugo münsterberg, edith thomas, lyman abbott, john burroughs, elizabeth stuart phelps, thomas bailey aldrich, julia ward howe, harriet beecher stowe, joel chandler harris, lucy larcom, bret harte, bayard taylor, alice freeman palmer, thomas w. higginson. charles scribner's sons, new york, n.y. henry van dyke: music and other poems. maltbie d. babcock: thoughts for every day living. sidney lanier: poems of sidney lanier. robert bridges: robert bridges' poems. george meredith: last poems. james anthony froude: short studies on great subjects. robert louis stevenson: poems and works. w.e. henley: poems. eugene field: western verse. g.p. putnam's sons, new york and london. arthur christopher benson: along the road, silent isle, from a college window, joyous gard, lord vyet and other poems. little, brown & company, boston, mass. emily dickinson, laura e. richards, edward everett hale. george h. doran company, new york, n.y. sir oliver lodge, arnold bennett, j. stalker, a.h. begbie. fleming h. revell company, new york, n.y. percy c. ainsworth, e.h. divall, margaret e. sangster, j.h. jowett, george matheson. longmans, green & company, new york and london. william james. dodd, mead & company, new york, n.y. maurice maeterlinck, hamilton mabie, ian maclaren, jerome k. jerome, g.k. chesterton, paul laurence dunbar. small, maynard & company, boston, mass. mrs. charlotte perkins gilman, john b. tabb, ernest crosby. lothrop, lee & shepard company, boston, mass. paul hamilton hayne. doubleday, page & company, garden city, new york charles wagner, edwin markham, helen keller. e.p. dutton company, new york. george macdonald. january janus am i; oldest of potentates; forward i look, and backward, and below i count, as god of avenues and gates, the years that through my portals come and go. i block the roads, and drift the fields with snow; i chase the wild fowl from the frozen fen; my frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, my fires light up the hearths and hearts of men. --henry w. longfellow. january first bartolome esteban murillo, baptized . paul revere born . betsy ross born . maria edgeworth born . arthur hugh clough born . old things need not be therefore true, o brother men, nor yet the new; ah! still awhile the old thought retain, and yet consider it again! we! what do we see? each a space of some few yards before his face; does that the whole wide plan explain? ah, yet consider it again! alas! the great world goes its way, and takes its truth from each new day; they do not quit, nor can retain, far less consider it again. --arthur hugh clough. there are two sorts of content; one is connected with exertion, the other habits of indolence. the first is a virtue; the other a vice. --maria edgeworth. oh send out thy light and thy truth; let them lead me: let them bring me unto thy holy hill, and to thy tabernacles. --psalm . . almighty god, lead me in the search for life. teach me what is important and what is unimportant; what is false, and what is true. remove the hindrances that keep me from the worthiest deeds, and grant that i may have the peace that comes with surrender of self to thy will. amen. january second general james wolfe born . colonial flag first raised . mary carey thomas born . to what profit we could use the time for our present task that we spend in impatient waiting and wondering over the future! so often the future is just one step up from the present, but some of us miss it by preferring to wait for an elevator. --m. b. s. prepare to live by all means, but for heaven's sake do not forget to live. you will never have a better chance than you have at present. you may think you will have, but you are mistaken. --arnold bennett. he that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakes him. he that lives on hope will die fasting. --benjamin franklin. whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in sheol, whither thou goest. --ecclesiastes . . gracious father, my heart burns with shame when i think how much i claim, and how little i am. i pray that my body may not cast a shadow to-day, and cloud the light of my life to-morrow. cleanse the windows of my soul that i may take in thy glory. amen. january third marcus tullius cicero born b.c. . martin luther excommunicated . douglas jerrold born . charles wagner (france) born . to be continually advancing in the paths of knowledge is one of the most pleasing satisfactions of the human mind. these are pleasures perfect consistent with every degree of advanced years. --cicero. fidelity in small things is at the base of every great achievement. we too often forget this and yet no truth needs more to be kept in mind particularly in the troubled eras of history and in the crises of individual life. in shipwreck a splintered beam, an oar, any scrap of wreckage saves us. to despise the remnants is demoralization. --charles wagner. he that is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much and he that is unrighteous in a very little is unrighteous also in much. --luke . almighty god, may i understand that thou art in everything and that i cannot hide from thee, for thou boldest me though i know it not. give me the desire, and help me to learn of thy laws, that i may know that even in the least of things, i have the liberty to obtain happiness by obeying them. amen. january fourth archbishop usher born . jacob l. carl grimm born . elizabeth peabody died . years rush by us like the wind, we see not whence the eddy comes, nor whitherward it is tending, and we seem ourselves to witness their flight without a sense that we are changed: and yet time is beguiling man of his strength, as the winds rob the trees of their foliage. --sir walter scott. the bell strikes one. we take no note of time but from its loss. to give it, then a tongue is wise in man; as if an angel spoke i feel the solemn sound. if heard aright it is the knell of my departed hours: where are they? --edward young. days should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom. and the breath of the almighty giveth them understanding. it is not the great that are wise, nor the aged that understand justice. --job . , . lord god, help me to see my mistakes, and bring me to the realization of my life. grant that i may no longer use the time that thou gavest me to learn in, heedlessly, but to give it my best thought and care. amen. january fifth stephen decatur born . robert morrison born . thomas pringle born . let me go where'er i will, i hear a sky-born music still: it sounds from all things old, it sounds from all things young, from all that's fair, from all that's foul, peals out a cheerful song. it is not only in the rose, it is not only in the bird, not only where the rainbow glows, nor in the song of woman heard, but in the darkest, meanest things there alway, alway something sings. 'tis not in the high stars alone, nor in the cup of budding flowers, nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, nor in the bow that smiles in showers, but in the mud and scum of things there alway, alway something sings. --ralph waldo emerson. the heavens declare the glory of god; and the firmament showeth his handiwork. --psalm . . almighty god, grant that my life may no longer be a noise, but be kept in tune with the sublimest melodies, that wherever i am, there may be no discords in the songs of my soul. through thy loving-kindness may my songs resound. amen. january sixth epiphany, or twelfth-day. joan d'arc born . david dale born . 'twas even so! and thou the shepherd's child, joanne, the lowly dreamer of the wild! never before and never since that hour hath woman, mantled with victorious power, stood forth as thou beside the shrine didst stand, holy amidst the knighthood of the land. --mrs. felicia hemans. every one must recognize the splendid work which has been done by women in social and educational fields. and it will, i believe, come more and more to be recognized that in some respects women are specially fitted for government and for official-municipal life. --sir oliver lodge. now deborah, a prophetess, the wife of lappidoth, she judged israel at that time. and she dwelt under the palm tree of deborah between ramah and bethel in the hill-country of ephraim: and the children of israel came up to her for judgment. --judges . , . my father, help me to be thoughtful and just. may i consider the great truths and broader visions that may not be seen from where i stand. may i be willing to accept a better view. grant that i may realize that the battle of life is not a sham battle, but a struggle for the advancement of life. amen. january seventh general putnam born . robert nicholl born . t. dewitt talmage born . opportunities fly in a straight line, touch us but once and never return, but the wrongs we do others fly in a circle; they come back from the place they started. --t. dewitt talmage. our share of night to bear, our share of morning, our blank is bliss to fill, our blank is scorning. here a star, and there a star, some lose their way, here a mist, and there a mist, afterwards--day! --emily dickinson. arise ye, and depart; for this is not your resting-place. --micah . . lord god, give me the desire to be persistent in service, while i have health and strength. may i experience the sweetness that comes in doing the thing that i ought to have done, as well as that in which i took the most pleasure. help me to so live that my days may be useful, and be recalled with bright and happy recollections. amen. january eighth john earl of stair died . sir william draper died . alfred russel wallace born . william wilkie collins born . sir laurence alma-tadema born . a blue bird built his nest here in my breast. "o bird of light! whence comest thou?" said he, "from god above: my name is love." a mate he brought one day, of plumage gray. "o bird of night! why comest thou?" said she: "seek no relief! my name is grief." --laurence alma-tadema. it is not so much resolution as renunciation, not so much courage as resignation, that we need. he that has once yielded thoroughly to god will yield to nothing but god. --john ruskin. behold, god will not cast away a perfect man, neither will he uphold the evildoers. he will yet fill thy mouth with laughter, and thy lips with shouting. --job . , . almighty god, help me to understand that peace does not come in rebellion or grieving, but is obtained through the calm of the soul. grant that if i may be perplexed or worried to-day, i may have the power to control myself and wait in thy strength. amen. january ninth dr. thomas brown born . elizabeth o. benger died . caroline lucretia herschel died , aged ninety-seven. wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness altogether past calculation its powers of endurance. efforts to be permanently useful must be uniformly joyous--a spirit of all sunshine. --thomas carlyle. honest good humor is the oil and wine of a merry meeting. --washington irving. a laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market. --charles lamb. a glad heart maketh a cheerful countenance; but by sorrow of heart the spirit is broken. better is a dinner of herbs, where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith. --proverbs . , . gracious father, if i am sorrowing over disappointment and am forgetful, grant that i may see the things thou hast made, for which i should be thankful. help me to so live that i may have a right to claim a cheerful heart. amen. january tenth dr. george birkbeck born . michel or marshal ney born . karl von linné, linnæus, died . ethan allen born . shall i hold on with both hands to every paltry possession? all i have teaches me to trust the creator for all i have not seen. --ralph waldo emerson. the practical weakness of the vast mass of modern pity for the poor and the oppressed is precisely that it is merely pity; the pity is pitiful but not respectful. men feel that the cruelty to the poor is a kind of cruelty to animals. they never feel that it is injustice to equals; nay, it is treachery to comrades. --g.k. chesterton. be ye all like-minded, compassionate, loving as brethren, tender-hearted, humble-minded: not rendering evil for evil, or reviling for reviling; but contrariwise blessing. -- peter . , . god of justice, may i pause to remember that while i may do a mean act and keep it hidden from others, i cannot keep it hidden from myself, nor from thee. help me to have a nobler sense of the quality of life, and less anxiety for the quantity, that i may avoid harshness and selfishness, and be given to tenderness and justice. amen. january eleventh alexander hamilton born . bayard taylor born . william james born . alice caldwell regan rice born . the paternal relation to man was the basis of that religion which appealed directly to the heart; so the fraternity of each man with his fellow was its practical application. --bayard taylor. it is indeed a remarkable fact that sufferings and hardships do not, as a rule, abate the love of life; they seem on the contrary, usually to give it a keener zest; and the sovereign source of melancholy is repletion. need and struggle are what excite and inspire. our hour of triumph is what brings the void. --william james. blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he hath been approved, he shall receive the crown of life, which the lord promised to them that love him. --james . . lord god, i come to thee for help that the small things may not force themselves into my life, and keep me from pursuing the larger things which are continually open to me. may i not be blind to what i may have and be, through inspiration and work. grant that i may not be satisfied to remain in that in which i have triumphed, but climb to greater endeavors. amen. january twelfth edmund burke born . johann heinrich pestalozzi born . françois coppée born . john s. sargent born . show the thing you contend for to be reason; show it to be common sense; show it to be the means of attaining some useful end. the question with me is not whether you have a right to render your people miserable, but whether it is your interest to make them happy. --edmund burke. like the star that shines afar, without haste and without rest, let each man wheel with steady sway round the task that rules the day, and do his best. --goethe. love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. -- corinthians . . gracious father, cause me to be critical of my life, that i may not be deceived in myself. help me to look into my soul and see what thou dost find there; and with humility may i acknowledge what i am to thee, and seek thy wisdom and love. amen. january thirteenth george fox, founder society of friends, died . samuel woodworth (old oaken bucket) born . order of king's daughters founded . have thy soul feel the universal breath with which all nature's quick, and learn to be sharer in all that thou dost touch or see; break from thy body's grasp thy spirit's trance; give thy soul air, thy faculties expanse; love, joy, even sorrow,--yield thyself to all! they make thy freedom, groveling, not thy thrall. knock off the shackles which thy spirit bind to dust and sense, and set at large the mind! then move in sympathy with god's great whole, and be like man at first, a _living soul_. --richard henry dana. i was deeply impressed by what a gardener once said to me concerning his work. "i feel, sir," he said, "when i am growing the flowers or rearing the vegetables, that i am having a share in creation." i thought it a very noble way of regarding his work. --j.h. jowett. for we are god's fellow workers: ye are god's husbandry, god's building. -- corinthians . . creator of all, help me to see what there is for me to do; and help me to know that i cannot be productive if i am hovering in the choice of my work. may i learn from thy great works of heaven and earth the ways of selection and steadfastness. give me the desire to work and the confidence that is needed to carry on my work. amen. january fourteenth madame de sévigné died . edmund halley died . pierre loti born . are you in earnest? seize this very minute what you can do, or dream you can; begin it; boldness has genius, power magic in it. only engage, and then the mind grows heated; begin and then the work will be completed. --goethe. were half the power that fills the world with terror, were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, given to redeem the human mind from error, there were no need of arsenals or forts. --henry w. longfellow. choose you this day whom ye will serve;... but as for me and my house, we will serve jehovah. --joshua . . almighty god, help me to appreciate the sacredness of work while i have it to do. grant that i may be spared the wretchedness that comes from working with fragments from idleness. may i do my part, even if it be in obscurity and the night overtakes me before it is done. amen. january fifteenth molière born . dr. samuel parr born . edward everett died . the sun withholds his generous beam; athwart my soul the shadows stream; the weird winds boisterously blow, and drift the melancholy snow. when i, in sorrow and despair, expect the storm, with tender care he rends the clouds and through the blue the glorious sun breaks forth anew. --m.b.s. so with the wan waste grasses on my spear, i ride forever seeking after god. my hair grows whiter than my thistle plume and all my limbs are loose; but in my eyes the star of an unconquerable praise; for in my soul one hope forever sings, that at the next white corner of the road my eyes may look on him. --g.k. chesterton. he brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me. --psalm . . loving father, if i may be discouraged to-day, strengthen my faith. may i not weary of waiting for thee, but trust in thy promises. amen. january sixteenth edmund spenser died . johann august neander born . edward gibbon died . sir john moore died . but lovely concord, and most sacred peace, doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds; weake she makes strong, and strong thing does increase, till it the pitch of highest praise exceeds. --edmund spenser. perfect good-breeding is the result of nature and not of education; for it may be found in a cottage, and may be missed in a palace. 'tis the genial regard for the feeling of others that springs from an absence of selfishness. --disraeli. can a fig tree, my brethren, yield olives, or a vine figs? neither can salt water yield sweet. --james . . heavenly father, help me to value my thoughts, words, and deeds. if at the close of the day, there may be one who has been wounded by my injustice, may i be willing to make quick atonement. may i avoid the ways and words that hurt; and not only wish rightly and work rightly, but speak to enrich others with tenderness. amen. january seventeenth john ray died . benjamin franklin born . george bancroft died . employ thy time well if thou meanest to gain leisure; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour! leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. --benjamin franklin. there is nothing to gain and everything to lose by despising the example of nature, and making arbitrary rules for oneself. our liberty wisely understood is but a voluntary obedience to the universal laws of life. --amiel. i will meditate on thy precepts, and have respect unto thy ways. --psalm . . my father, help me to understand the power of nature, that i may be willing to obey her laws. i pray that i may so live that my life will proclaim itself without need of boasting or deception. forbid that i should spend my life in perfecting trifles, and have no leisure to enjoy thy great gifts. amen. january eighteenth charles de montesquieu born . john gillies born . daniel webster born . we would leave for the consideration of those who shall occupy our places some proof that we hold the blessings transmitted from our fathers in just estimation; some proof of our attachment to the cause of good government and of civil and religious liberty; some proof of a sincere and ardent desire to promote every thing which may enlarge the understanding and improve the hearts of men. --daniel webster. brother and friend, the world is wide, but i care not whether there be the soothing song of a summer tide or the thrash of a wintry sea, if but through shimmer and storm you bide, brother and friend, with me. --percy c. ainsworth. honor all men. love the brotherhood. fear god. honor the king. -- peter . . almighty god, i thank thee for all the tender influences of life; for all the gentleness and strength that may be given and received through friendship. help me to be careful of what i do, for my sake, and for the sake of those who may follow me. amen. january nineteenth hans sachs died . william congreve died . james watt born . robert e. lee born . edgar allan poe born . i stand amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore, and i hold within my hand grains of the golden sand-- how few! yet how they creep through my fingers to the deep, while i weep--while i weep! o god, can i not save one from the pitiless wave? is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? --edgar allan poe. do not train up your children in hostility to the government of the united states. remember that we are one country now. dismiss from your mind all sectional feeling, and bring them up to be americans. --robert e. lee. wait for jehovah: be strong, and let thy heart take courage; yea, wait thou for jehovah. --psalm . . lord god, i pray that if i have struggled for the wrong, and have worked with weak hands, thou wilt forgive me for my lost strength. give me more light to shine upon my work, upon thy promises, and upon my duties; and with thy wisdom may i search for the truth that is behind every wrong, and for the purpose that is beyond all journeyings. amen. january twentieth eve of saint agnes. david garrick died . john howard died . john ruskin died . nathaniel p. willis born . how like a mounting devil in the heart rules the unreigned ambition! let it once but play the monarch, and its haughty brow glows with a beauty that bewilders thought and unthrones peace forever. putting on the very pomp of lucifer, it turns the heart to ashes. --nathaniel p. willis. temperance, in the nobler sense, does not mean a subdued and imperfect energy; it does not mean a stopping short in any good thing, as love or in faith; but it means the power which governs the most intense energy, and prevents its acting in any way but as it ought. --john ruskin. and thy gentleness hath made me great. --psalm . . gracious father, i pray that i may be willing to profit by the experience of great teachers, and appreciate the value of strong principles. may i too live for the higher ideals of life, and through a sympathetic response add power and virtue to other lives, while gaining strength for my own. amen. january twenty-first miles coverdale died . john fitch born . john c. fremont born . thomas erskine born . thomas jonathan (stonewall) jackson born . so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend. --robert l. stevenson. so to the calmly gathered thought the innermost of life is taught, the mystery dimly understood, that love of god is love of good: that to be saved is only this-- salvation from our selfishness. --john greenleaf whittier. love worketh no ill to his neighbor: love therefore is the fulfillment of the law. and this, knowing the season, that already it is time for you to awake out of sleep: for now is salvation nearer to us than when we first believed. --romans . , . tender father, may i not attempt to serve life for my own gratification. may i not interpret love through vanity, but from reality. make me worth while, that i may be relied upon for my pledges, and needed for my services. amen. january twenty-second andrea del sarto died . francis bacon born . lord george byron born . queen victoria died . father of light! to thee i call, my soul is dark within: thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall, avert the death of sin, thou who canst guide the wandering star, who calm'st the elemental war, whose mantle is yon boundless sky, my thoughts, my words, my crimes forgive; and since i soon must cease to live, instruct me how to die. --lord byron. knowledge, whether it descend from divine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish to oblivion if it were not preserved in books, traditions, conferences, and places appointed. --francis bacon. blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of the prophecy, and keep the things that are written therein. --revelation . . almighty god, i would have thy counsel as i read the words and follow the deeds of helpful lives, that i may be inspired to nobler activities. give me the desire to know more of thy holy word, that i may have a better knowledge of life. amen. january twenty-third john hancock born . william pitt died . charles kingsley died . paul gustave doré died . never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful. welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank him for it, who is the fountain of all loveliness. --charles kingsley. nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege through all the years of this life, to lead, from joy to joy; for she can so impress with quietness and beauty, and so feed with lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, * * * * * nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall e'er prevail against us or disturb our cheerful faith, that all which we behold is full of blessings. --william wordsworth. is not god in the height of heaven? and behold the height of the stars, how high they are! and thou sayest, what doth god know? can he judge through the thick darkness? --job . , . lord god, i pray that i may not overlook thy blessings of beauty while endeavoring to perform my duties. guide me that i may not struggle to be where thou wouldst not have me go. amen. january twenty-fourth charles earl of dorset born . frederick the great born . charles james fox born . the great gods pass through the great time-hall, stately and high; the little men climb the low clay wall to gape and spy; "we wait for the gods," the little men cry, "but these are our brothers passing by." the great gods pass through the great time-hall; who can see? the little men nod by the low clay wall, so tired they be; '"tis weary waiting for gods," they yawn, "there's a world o' men, but the gods are gone." --a.h. begbie. but their eyes were holden that they should not know him. --luke . . my father, may i be careful of getting weary and missing the best through the need of rest. intensify my desire for the songs and glorious ways, that i may not settle into dullness and slumber, while others pass on in the light. i pray for a keener sense of the possessions made possible by the deeds and cares of noble men and women. amen. january twenty-fifth robert burns born . lord frederick leighton died . daniel maclise born . when ranting round in pleasure's ring religion may be blinded: or if she gie a random sting, it may be little minded: but when on life we're tempest-driv'n-- a conscience but a canker, a correspondence fixed wi' heav'n, is sure a noble anchor. --robert burns. be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; do noble things, not dream them, all day long: and so make life, death, and that vast forever one grand sweet song. --charles kingsley. o lord, by these things men live; and wholly therein is the life of my spirit: wherefore recover thou me, and make me to live. --isaiah . . gracious father, grant that i may not be willing to spend my life for trivial needs, for thou dost measure me for what i am, and boldest me for what i lose in waste. be with me in my judgment of what is best, that i may make the most of my life. amen. january twenty-sixth lord george sackville born . benjamin robert haydon born . mary mapes dodge born . general gordon (chinese gordon) killed . ave maria! blessed be the hour, that time, the clime, the spot, where i so oft have felt that moment in its fullest power sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, while swung the deep bell in the distant tower or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, and not a breath crept through the rosy air, and yet the forest leaves seemed stirred with prayer. --lord byron. i am quite happy, thank god, and like lawrence, i have tried to do my duty. --general gordon (just before death). for in the day of trouble he will keep me secretly in his pavilion: in the covert of his tabernacle will he hide me; he will lift me up upon a rock. --psalm . . heavenly father, teach me how to breathe in the sweetness of life. reveal to me the life that will bring peace to the soul. may i not be dismayed, but find the "peace that passeth all understanding," the perfect peace that comes from thee. amen. january twenty-seventh johannes wolfgang mozart born . a.w. von schlegel born . david friedrich strauss born . to keep young, every day read a poem, hear a choice piece of music, view a fine painting, and, if possible, do a good action. man's highest merit always is, as much as possible, to rule external circumstances, and as little as possible to let himself be ruled by them. --goethe. let us not always say, "spite of this flesh to-day i strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole!" as the bird wings and sings, let us cry, "all good things are ours, nor soul helps flesh more now than flesh helps soul!" --robert browning. surely goodness and loving-kindness shall follow me all the days of my life. --psalm . . loving father, help me to foresee that it is what i care for to-day that determines how i will find old age. may i not bring my closing years to weariness and lonesomeness, but may i have the restfulness that comes with communing with thee. amen. january twenty-eighth charlemagne died . sir francis drake died . peter the great died . charles george gordon (chinese gordon) born . he only is advancing in life whose heart is getting softer, whose blood warmer, whose brain quicker, and whose spirit is entering into living peace. and the men who have this life in them are the true lords and kings of the earth--they, and they only. --john ruskin. just where you stand in the conflict, there is your place! just where you think you are useless, hide not your face! god placed you there for a purpose, what e'er it be; think you he has chosen you for it: work loyally. --anonymous. o the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of god! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past tracing out! --romans . . my father, i thank thee that thou hast endowed me with a will; help me to use it aright. may i have the knowledge of what thou dost demand of my soul, that i may do my best with what thou hast given me. help me that i may reach out for the highest ideals of life. amen. january twenty-ninth emanuel swedenborg born . thomas paine born . adelaide ristori born . william mckinley, ohio, twenty-fourth president united states, born . god will keep no nation in supreme place that will not do supreme duty. --william mckinley. reputation is what men and women think of us; character is what god and the angels know of us. --thomas paine. the reward of one duty is the power to fulfill another. --george eliot. let thy hand be upon the man of thy right hand, upon the son of man whom thou madest strong for thyself. so shall we not go back from thee: quicken thou us, and we will call upon thy name. --psalm . , . my father, i pray that i may be just and be given to kindness. may i be conscious of my virtues, and use them to overcome my faults. may i hear clearly thy call that i may be sure of the way as i lead others to duty and happiness. amen. january thirtieth archbishop butler born . walter savage landor born . henri rochefort born . why, why repine, my pensive friend, at pleasures slipped away? some the stern fates will never lend, and all refuse to stay. i see the rainbow in the sky, the dew upon the grass; i see them and i ask not why they glimmer or they pass. with folded arms i linger not to call them back; 'twere vain; in this, or in some other spot, i know they'll shine again. --walter savage landor. when disappointment comes meet it, but do not carry it along with you; nor fetter your spirit by changeless haste. "memory will always pursue some precious instance of itself," which will bring either renewed confidence or resignation. --m. b. s. for thou shalt forget thy misery; thou shalt remember it as waters that are passed away. --job . . gracious father, help me to "lift mine eyes unto the hills" that glorify the discouraging ways. may i appreciate thy great love, and from my limitations find the possibilities that are limitless. amen. january thirty-first cromwell dissolved parliament . charles edward (young pretender) died . franz schubert born . james g. elaine born . nature demands that man be ever at the top of his condition. he who violates her laws must pay the penalty, though he sit on a throne. --james g. elaine. dig channels for the streams of love, where they may broadly run; and love has overflowing streams to fill them every one. for we must share if we must keep the good things from above; ceasing to give, we cease to have-- such is the law of love. --r. c. trench. and thy life shall be clearer than the noonday; though there be darkness, it shall be as the morning. --job . . my father, i would remember that it is mostly from my inspirations that i conceive life. take away hatred and vanity that keep me in faults, and awake in me the thoughts that are responsible for visions that lead to high ideals. amen. february then came old february, sitting in an old wagon, for he could not ride, drawn of two fishes for the season fitting, which through the flood before did softly slide and swim away; yet he had by his side his plow and harness fit to till the ground, and tools to prune the trees, before the pride of hasting prime did make them bourgeon wide. --edmund spenser. february first ben jonson born . john philip kemble born . arthur henry hallam born . george cruikshank died . it is not growing like a tree in bulk, doth make man better be; or standing long an oak, three hundred year, to fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: a lily of a day is fairer far in may, although it fall and die that night-- it was the plant and flower of light. in small proportions we just beauties see; and in short measure life may perfect be. --ben jonson. there are four things which are little upon the earth, but they are exceeding wise: the ants are a people not strong, yet they provide their food in the summer; the conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks; the locusts have no king, yet go they forth all of them by bands; the lizard taketh hold with her hands, yet is she in king's palaces. --proverbs . - . creator of all, lead me to see the light, and instruct me that i may be able to reason. guard me against spectacular endeavors, that i may be genuine. amen. february second candlemas day. nell gwynn born . hannah more born . william henry burleigh born . 'twas doing nothing was his curse-- is there a vice can plague us worse? the wretch who digs the mine for bread, or plows, that others may be fed, feels less fatigue than that decreed to him who cannot think, or read. not all the peril of temptations, not all the conflict of the passions, can quench the spark of glory's flame, or quite extinguish virtue's name. --hannah more. sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! to all the sensual world proclaim, one crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name. --sir walter scott. he went out, and found others standing; and he saith unto them, why stand ye here all the day idle? they say unto him, because no man hath hired us. he saith unto them, go ye also into the vineyard. --matthew . , . eternal god, who hath weighed the mountains and measured the seas, i pray that i may not be satisfied to wait in idleness, and let thy wisdom pass away from me as the days. steady me in my weakness, and reveal to me my strength as i draw near and ask of thee. amen. february third felix mendelssohn-bartholdy born . horace greeley born . frederick william robertson born . sidney lanier born . my soul is sailing through the sea, but the past is heavy and hindereth me. the past hath crusted cumbrous shells that hold the flesh of cold sea-mells about my soul. the huge waves wash, the high waves roll, each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole and hindereth me from sailing. --sidney lanier. to stand with a smile upon your face, against a stake from which you cannot get away--that no doubt is heroic. true glory is resignation to the inevitable. but to stand unchained, with perfect liberty to go away held only by the higher chains of duty, and let the fire creep up to the heart--that is heroism. --f.w. robertson. we are pressed on every side, yet not straitened; perplexed, yet not unto despair; pursued, yet not forsaken; smitten down, yet not destroyed. -- corinthians . , . gracious father, thou knowest what i am and the condition of my life. may i seek thy will for me. grant that i may never struggle for consolation through indulgence and indolence, but in my sorrow and failure may i reach out for thy enduring comfort. amen. february fourth mark hopkins born . w. harrison ainsworth born . jean richepin born . thomas carlyle died . life is not a may-game, but a battle and a march, a warfare with principalities and powers. no idle promenade through fragrant orange groves and green flowery spaces, waited on by coral muses, and the rosy hours; it is a stern pilgrimage through the rough, burning, sandy solitudes, through regions of thick-ribbed ice. --thomas carlyle. for all sweet and pleasant passages in the great story of life men may well thank god; for leisure and ease and health and friendship may god make us truly and humbly grateful; but our chief song of thanksgiving must be always for our kinship with him, with all that such divinity of greatness brings of peril, hardship, toil, and sacrifice. --hamilton mabie. thy bars shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be. --deuteronomy . . my father, help me to choose the road that leads to my work, and may i not fail to reach it, by wandering away from it. keep me in touch with the human side of life, holding in mind that "truth and honesty are the noblest works of god." amen. february fifth sir robert peel born . ole boreman bull born . john muir born . dwight l. moody born . when a great man dies, then has the time come for putting us in mind that he was alive! --thomas carlyle. if i practice one day, i can see the result. if i practice two days, my friends can see it. if i practice three days, the great public can see it. --ole bull. those who say they will forgive but can't forget an injury simply bury the hatchet while they leave the handle out, ready for immediate use. --dwight l. moody. but i hold not my life of any account as dear unto myself, so that i may accomplish my course. --acts . . almighty god, if i am uncertain, and tremble at the crossroads in doubt of the right way, may i wait and be led by thee, and follow on, even if the way be dark and rough. may i be faithful and have thy presence as thou promised at the end. amen. february sixth queen anne of england born . aaron burr born . sir henry irving born . nothing earthly will make me give up my work in despair. i encourage myself in the lord my god and go forward. --david livingstone. to expect defeat is nine tenths of defeat itself. --marion crawford. i do not see how any man can afford, for the sake of his nerves and his nap, to spare any action in which he can partake. --ralph waldo emerson. art is a jealous mistress, she requires the whole man. --michael angelo. watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong. -- corinthians . . almighty god, help me to have true conceptions, that my life may not be secured to needless purposes. may my soul be influenced by high ideals, and my work be the production of truth and not of selfishness. protect me from evil that i may be kept pure and strong for my work. amen. february seventh millard fillmore, new york, thirteenth president united states born . sir thomas more born . charles dickens born . anne radcliffe died . sidney cooper died . let no man turn aside ever so slightly, from the broad path of honor, on the plausible pretense that he is justified by the goodness of his end. all good ends can be worked out by good means. --charles dickens. if evils come not, then our fears are vain; and if they do, fear but augments the pain. --sir thomas more. a human heart knows aught of littleness, suspects no man, compares with no one's ways, hath in one hour most glorious length of days, a recompense, a joy, a loveliness; like eaglet keen, shoots into azure far, and always dwelling nigh is the remotest star. --william ellery channing. teach me thy way, o jehovah; i will walk in thy truth: unite my heart to fear thy name. --psalm . . gracious father, i pray that thou wilt control my impulses, and protect me from false interpretations. may i have wisdom, and search for the high and holy ways. help me to be patient for thy purposes, and may my relations to life be triumphant in thy standards. amen. february eighth samuel butler born . john ruskin born . general sherman born . jules verne born . richard watson gilder born . if you want knowledge, you must toil for it; and if pleasure, you must toil for it. toil is the law. pleasure comes through toil, and not by self-indulgence and indolence. when one gets to love work his life is a happy one. --john ruskin. whatever sceptic could inquire for, for every why he had a wherefore. --samuel butler. through love to light! o wonderful the way, that leads from darkness to the perfect day! from darkness and from sorrow of the night to morning that comes singing o'er the sea. through love to light! through light o god to thee! who art the love, the eternal light of light! --richard watson gilder. we must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work. --john . . my father, i pray that i may not weight my life with worthless efforts. may i be guided to the right work, and through the love of it find strength for my soul. amen. february ninth c.f. volney born . william henry harrison, virginia, ninth president united states, born . anthony hope (hawkins) born . george ade born . a man's own observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health. but it is a safer conclusion to say, "this agreeth not well with me, therefore i will not continue it"; than to say, "i find no offense of this, therefore i may use it." for strength of nature in youth passeth over many excesses, which are owing a man till his age. --francis bacon. though man a thinking being is defined, few use the grand prerogative of mind. how few think justly of the thinking few! how many never think, who think they do! --jane taylor. blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he hath been approved, he shall receive the crown of life. --james . . almighty god, i would learn that while thou art a forgiving lord, nature has no mercy on them that break her laws. forgive me for all my neglect, and help me to see the way in which thou hast through mercy led me. give me the power to endure and the strength to resist temptation. may i seek to understand thy laws, that i may not fail through ignorance. amen. february tenth rev. henry hart milman born . charles lamb born . sir william napier died . never let the most well-intended falsehood escape your lips; for heaven, which is entirely truth, will make the seed which you have sown of untruth to yield miseries a thousandfold. --charles lamb. we cannot command veracity at will; the power of seeing and reporting truly is a form of health that has to be distinctly guarded, and as an ancient rabbi has solemnly said, "the penalty of untruth is untruth." --george eliot. the bat hangs upside down and laughs at a topsy-turvy world. --unknown. the lip of truth shall be established for ever; but a lying tongue is but for a moment. --proverbs . . lord god, give me the will to hold to the truth and the strength to help keep the world true; and may i help others to look up and catch the truth from the purest light. amen. february eleventh mary, queen of england, born . daniel boone born . lydia m. child born . washington gladden born . thomas a. edison born . few, in the days of early youth, trusted like me in love and truth. i've learned sad lessons from the years; but slowly and with many tears; for god made me to kindly view the world that i was passing through. and all who tempt a trusting heart from faith and hope to drift apart, may they themselves be spared the pain of losing power to trust again! god help us all to kindly view the world that we are passing through! --lydia m. child. for ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing; and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. --isaiah . . lord god, i pray that i may not rest my hope in self alone, but know that the greatest joy is in the hope of the world. help me to have faith in mankind; and with a loyal heart and a brave spirit be as kind to the world as i can. amen. february twelfth dr. cotton mather born . peter cooper born . abraham lincoln, kentucky, sixteenth president united states, born . robert charles darwin born . george meredith born . with malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as god gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds, ... to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. --abraham lincoln. the great moral combat between human life and each human soul must be single.... when a soul arms for battle she goes forth alone. --owen meredith. according to the grace of god which was given unto me, as a wise master builder i laid a foundation; and another buildeth thereon. -- corinthians . . almighty god, i thank thee for the courage that comes with a great life. help me to be brave, even if it is only that others may be blest. may i lay a careful foundation and plan to build the best that i can afford. amen. february thirteenth david allan born . maurice de talleyrand-périgord born . richard wagner died . a man is not his hope, nor yet his despair, nor yet his past deed. we know not yet what we have done; still less what we are doing. wait till evening, and other parts of our work will shine than we had thought at noon, and we shall discover the real purport of our toil. --henry d. thoreau. when you make a mistake don't look back at it long. take the reason of the thing into your mind, and look forward. mistakes are lessons of wisdom.... the past cannot be changed. the future is yet in your power. --hugh white. he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with joy, bringing his sheaves with him. --psalm . . my father, help me to survey my life. make me compassionate and considerate, that i may be qualified to promote that which is helpful. may i appreciate that what is worth keeping i can obtain from thee. amen. february fourteenth saint valentine's day. captain james cook killed . jean ernest reynaud born . oh! little loveliest lady mine, what shall i send for your valentine? summer and flowers are far away; gloomy old winter is king to-day; buds will not blow, and sun will not shine: what shall i do for a valentine? i've searched the gardens all through and through for a bud to tell of my love so true; but buds are asleep and blossoms are dead, and the snow beats down on my poor little head: so, little loveliest lady mine, here is my heart for your valentine. --laura e. richards. oh rank is gold, and gold is fair, and high and low mate ill; but love has never known a law beyond its own sweet will! --john g. whittier. beloved, let us love one another: for love is of god. -- john . . loving father, may i not fall to nodding in the balmy air of luxury and miss the messages of love. arouse me, that i may give and take in the treasures of love as they come my way, and that they may not pass unnoticed. amen. february fifteenth galileo galilei born . louis xv born . s. weir mitchell born . sir frederick treves born . the night i know is nigh at hand, the mists lie low on hill and bay, the autumn sheaves are brown and dry, but i have had the day. yes, i have had, dear lord, the day. when at thy call i have the night brief be the twilight as i pass from light to dark, from dark to light. --s. weir mitchell. if thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small--too small to be worth talking about, for the day of adversity is its first real opportunity. --maltbie babcock. nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. --romans . . my father, may my daily work not be the means of separating me from thee, but may i have thee for my companion through my work. forbid that i should ever submit to despair from weakness of body, but that i may be blest and grow strong as my spirit lives in thee. amen. february sixteenth philip melanchthon born . gasper de coligny born . thomas robert malthus born . ernst heinrich haeckel born . thy love shall chant its own beatitudes after its own life working. a child's kiss set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad. a poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; a sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; thou shalt be served thyself by every sense of service which thou renderest. --elizabeth b. browning. ask nothing more of me, sweet; all i can give you i give. heart of my heart, were it more, more would be laid at your feet: love that should help you to live, song that should help you to soar. --algernon charles swinburne. all things therefore whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them. --matthew . . lord god, i pray that i may not neglect the help and happiness that i may give with compassion and love. make me strong in all the senses that answer to the call of humanity. help me to guide and protect little children, and to care for the comforts of the old. amen. february seventeenth kate greenaway born . michael angelo buonarroti died . giordano bruno burned at rome . molière died . rose terry cooke born . frances e. willard died . it is not much to give a gentle word or kindly touch to one gone down beneath the world's cold frown, and yet who knows how great a thing from such a little grows? o, oftentimes, some brother upward climbs and hope again uplifts its head, that in the dust had lain, gives place to morning's light. --e. h. divall. i will seek that which was lost, and will bring back that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick. --ezekiel . . my father, may i not sorrow so that i fail to comfort the sorrowing, and may i not be so happy that i fail to see that others need to be glad. i thank thee for thy providences. may i serve thee in helping others to brighter lives. amen. february eighteenth martin luther died . george peabody born . wilson barrett born . a mighty fortress is our god, a bulwark never failing: our helper he amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing. for still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe; his craft and power are great: and, armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal. --martin luther. let us stand by our duty fearlessly and effectively. i am not bound to win, but i am bound to be true. i am not bound to succeed, but i am bound to live up to the light that i have. --abraham lincoln. jehovah is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my god, my rock, in whom i will take refuge. --psalm . . lord god, help me to lay my life in the rocks of thy foundation, and not in moving sands which are tossed from shore to shore. may i cling to the rock that was cleft for me and trust for thy care. amen. february nineteenth copernicus born . leonard bacon born . w.w. story born . adelina patti born . so mine are these new fruitings rich, the simple to the common brings; i keep the youth of souls who pitch their joy in this old heart of things; full lasting is the song, though he the singer passes; lasting too, for souls not lent in usury, the rapture of the forward view. --george meredith. all deep things are song. it seems, somehow, the very central essence of us, song; as if all the rest were wrappages and hulls! the primal element of us; of us, and all things. --thomas carlyle. ye shall have a song as in the night when a holy feast is kept; and gladness of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe to come unto the mountain of jehovah. --isaiah . . lord god, help me to feel the power of praise. "as words without thoughts never to heaven go," so the highest praises are never sung alone, but rendered with service and love. may i have the heart to sing thy praises far and near, and rejoice in him from whom all blessings flow. amen. february twentieth j.h. voss born . joseph jefferson born . mihaly munkacsy (michael lieb) born . who serves his country well has no need of ancestors. --voltaire. lo, spring comes forth with all her warmth and love, she brings sweet justice from the realms above; she breaks the chrysalis, she resurrects the dead; two butterflies ascend encircling her head. and so this emblem shall forever be a sign of immortality. --joseph jefferson. thou wilt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. --psalm . . lord god, i pray that i may not neglect my soul in trying to fathom immortal life. if i may be hesitating between comfort and work, remind me of the greatness of the place which i started to reach. may i not grow weary of climbing and falter on the stair. breathe upon me thy inspiration and love, that i may continue in faith all the way. amen. february twenty-first edmund william gosse born . karl czerny born . cardinal john h. newman born . jean l.e. meissonier born . alice freeman palmer born . prune thou thy words, the thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng; they will condense within thy soul, and change to purpose strong. --john h. newman. think truly, and thy thoughts shall the world's famine feed; speak truly, and each word of thine shall be a fruitful seed; live truly, and thy life shall be a great and noble creed. --horatio bonar. we ought to love everybody and make everybody love us. then everything else is easy. --alice freeman palmer. then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy healing shall spring forth speedily; and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of jehovah shall be thy rearward. --isaiah . . almighty god, look upon me with pity; so often i have obeyed the thoughts that have been misleading and profitless. make me more careful of what i think and say, and may i learn from my mistakes the forbidden paths. help me to keep my mind in unity with thy will. amen. february twenty-second george washington, virginia, first president united states, born . james russell lowell born . margaret e. sangster born . labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience. --george washington. life is a sheet of paper white whereon each one of us may write his word or two, and then comes night. greatly begin! though thou hast time but for a line, be that sublime. not failure, but low aim is crime. --james russell lowell. god keep us through the common days, the level stretches white with dust, when thought is tired, and hands upraise their burdens feebly since they must; in days of slowly fretting care then most we need the strength of prayer. --margaret e. sangster. make level the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. --proverbs . . lord god, help me to realize the influence of the individual life. and as i would care for my own, may i seek to do for others; and may i not criticize, but help all who are trying to make the world better. amen. february twenty-third samuel pepys born . george f. handel born . george frederick watts born . john keats died . margaret deland born . labor is life! 'tis the still water faileth; idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth: keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth; flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. labor is glory! the flying cloud lightens; only the waving wing changes and brightens, idle hearts only the dark future frightens, play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune. --frances s. osgood. keats palled death, with kisses ghostly, wooed and won him while too young, and the world reveres him mostly, for the songs he might have sung. --samuel a. wood. enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thy habitations; spare not: lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes. --isaiah . . almighty god, i pray for the will to do my finest work. disclose to me if i am being detained by serving selfishness in myself or in others. lead me to what is right for me to do; and may i diligently tarry in it. amen. february twenty-fourth samuel lover born . robert fulton died . george william curtis born . 'tis not to enjoy that we exist, for that end only; something must be done; i must not walk in unreproved delight these narrow bounds, and think of nothing more, no duty that looks further and no care. --william wordsworth. we weave our thoughts into heart-spun plans, and weave secure for a fitful day, but lose in the web of earthly things the pattern of sublimity. shall days spring up as wild vines grow, unheeding where they climb or cling? consider, child, before you sow, and wait not until harvesting. --m.b.s. jehovah is my strength and my shield; my heart hath trusted in him, and i am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will i praise him. --psalm . . loving father, command my judgment for the influences which i permit to come into my life. grant that i may not delay my purposes for the lack of comforts which are so often made more than life. with thy strength may i be steadfast in what i would achieve. amen. february twenty-fifth william seely died . sir christopher wren died . jane goodwin austin born . camille flammarion born . in general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes. all other passions do occasionally good; but wherever pride puts in its word everything goes wrong. --john ruskin. he that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. --william shakespeare. save me alike from foolish pride or impious discontent; at aught thy wisdom hath denied, or aught thy wisdom lent. --alexander pope. a man's pride shall bring him low; but he that is of a lowly spirit shall obtain honor. --proverbs . . heavenly father, i pray that i may not let pride keep me down when it may be mine to be carried to the heights. with tenderness take me out of myself, that i may see how pride deceives, and destroys an humble spirit. help me to master both stubbornness and pride. amen. february twenty-sixth christopher marlowe (baptized ). victor hugo born . lord cromer born . thomas moore died . when i go down to the grave i can say, like so many others, i have finished my work; but i cannot say i have finished my life; my day's work will begin again the next morning. my tomb is not a blind alley; it is a thoroughfare. it closes in the twilight to open in the dawn. --victor hugo. there's nothing bright above, below, from flowers that bloom to stars that glow, but in the light my soul can see some feature of the deity. there's nothing dark below, above, but in its gloom i trace god's love, and meekly wait that moment when his truth shall turn all bright again. --thomas moore. jehovah redeemeth the soul of his servants; and none of them that take refuge in him shall be condemned. --psalm . . lord god, may i not only feel the need of thee when i am burdened with sorrow and care, but may i have need of thee in my pleasures and joys. i thank thee for thy gracious kindness, thy mercy and thy protection. amen. february twenty-seventh henry wadsworth longfellow born . ellen terry born . mary f. robinson born . lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time-- footprints that perhaps another, sailing o'er life's wintry main, a forlorn and shipwrecked brother, seeing, shall take heart again. --henry w. longfellow. they are slaves who fear to speak for the fallen and the weak; they are slaves who will not choose hatred, scoffing, and abuse, rather than in silence shrink from the truth they needs must think; they are slaves who dare not be in the right with two or three. --james russell lowell. even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your father who is in heaven. --matthew . . merciful father, help me to know that my shadow cannot fall without me, and that my footprints cannot be found where i have never trodden. i pray that thou wilt make me so familiar with the right path that it may be mine to have the privilege of leading others to the right places. amen. february twenty-eighth montaigne born . mary lyon born . sir john tenniel born . soul, rule thyself; on passion, deed, desire, lay thou the laws of thy deliberate will. stand at thy chosen post, faith's sentinel: though hell's lost legions ring thee round with fire, learn to endure. --arthur symonds. the confidence in another man's virtue is no slight evidence of a man's own, and god willingly favors such a confidence. --montaigne. though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, even then will i be confident. --psalm . . my father, may i ever be kept in remembrance of my virtue, and may i be sensitive to its strength. as i go on my way, keep me within control of the impetuous desires of my nature, and in call of the duties and obligations of my daily life. amen. february twenty-ninth anne lee born . g.a. rossini born . john landseer died . happy is he and more than wise who sees with wondrous eyes and clean this world through all the gray disguise of sleep and custom in between. --g.k. chesterton. in the morning, when thou findest thyself unwilling to rise, consider with thyself presently, if it is to go about a man's work that i am stirred up. or was i made for this, to lay me down, and make much of myself in a warm bed. --marcus aurelius. arise and be doing, and jehovah be with thee. -- chronicles . . gracious father, help me to take of the wealth of my day, while it is in season, and accessible. may i not be ignorant of the abundance in which i live, and be found in overwhelming regret. forgive me for all that i have missed in life, and make me more watchful of that which is to come. amen. march spring still makes spring in the mind, when sixty years are told; love makes anew this throbbing heart, and we are never old. over the winter glaciers, i see the summer glow, and through the wild-piled snowdrift the warm rosebuds below. --ralph waldo emerson. march first alexander balfour born . frederick françois chopin born . augustus saint-gaudens born . william dean howells born . thy soul shall enter on its heritage of god's unuttered wisdom. thou shalt sweep with hand assured the ringing lyre of life, till the fierce anguish of its bitter strife, its pain, death, discord, sorrow, and despair, break into rhythmic music. thou shalt share the prophet-joy that kept forever glad god's poet-souls when all a world was sad. enter and live! thou hast not lived before. --s. weir mitchell. return unto thy rest, o my soul; for jehovah hath dealt bountifully with thee. for thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. --psalm . , . almighty god, grant that i may never be so discouraged that i feel my life has been spent. help me to so live, that i may not follow into hopeless days, but look for the bright and beautiful in to-morrow. forgive me for all that i have asked for and accepted through willful judgment, and make me more careful in selecting my needs. amen. march second juvenal born a.d. . john wesley died . horace walpole died . nature never says one thing, wisdom another. --juvenal. by all means, use some times to be alone; salute thyself--see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest, for 'tis thine own, and tumble up and down what thou findest there. --william wordsworth. lonesomeness is part of the cost of power. the higher you climb, the less can you hope for companionship. the heavier and the more immediate the responsibility, the less can a man delegate his tasks or escape his own mistakes. --shailer mathews. but thou, when thou prayest, enter into thine inner chamber, and having shut thy door, pray to thy father who is in secret, and thy father who seeth in secret shall recompense thee. --matthew . . my father, i pray that thou wilt take care of my thoughts when i am alone and tired, and keep them strong and clean. grant that while i commune with thee i may yield to my needs and be restored with keener energy for worthier deeds. may i ask of thy wisdom every day. amen. march third edmund waller born . george herbert died . christine nilsson born . pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high, so shalt thou humble and magnanimous be; sink not in spirit: who aimeth at the sky, shoots higher than he that means a tree. --george herbert. we and god have business with each other; and in opening ourselves to his influence our deepest destiny is fulfilled. --william james. while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. -- corinthians . . almighty god, help me to remember that "the power of character is the highest point of success," and that thou hast put within reach of all the choice ideals of life. may i have the desire to cultivate strong purposes, and strive for high endeavors, that i may not aim for the low. amen. march fourth casimer pulaski born . sir henry raeburn born . e.w. bull, originator concord grape, born . alexander graham bell born . it is perfectly obvious that men do necessarily absorb, out of the influences in which they grow up, something which gives a complexion to their whole after-character. --anthony froude. all common things, each day's events that with the hour begin and end, our pleasures and our discontents are rounds by which we may ascend. --henry w. longfellow. our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt. i --shakespeare. and david put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the philistine in his forehead; and the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell upon his face to the earth. -- samuel . . my father, i would remember that my life may decline from the neglect of small things; for as thou dost nourish the wheat from flakes of snow, and supply the springs from drops of rain, so thou wilt strengthen my soul from every little blessing. i pray that i may not forget to watch my habits, and keep track of the hours that culture and sustain my life. amen. march fifth correggio died . howard pyle born . arthur foote born . when i have the time so many things i'll do, to make life happier and more fair for those whose lives are crowded now with care, i'll help to lift them from their low despair when i have time. when i have time the friend i love so well shall know no more the weary, toiling days; i'll lead his feet in pleasant paths always, and cheer his heart with words of sweetest praise, when i have time. now is the time! speed, friend; no longer wait to scatter loving smiles and words of cheer to those around whose lives are drear; they may not need you in the far-off year: now is the time. --unknown. behold now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. -- corinthians . . lord god, teach me this day to know that the veriest trifle often keeps happiness alive, and that the smallest trifle often may kill it. i pray that now thou wilt put within my heart that touch of love, which brings consideration for others, and the care that brings the greatest happiness. amen. march sixth michael angelo buonarroti born . elizabeth barrett browning born . george du maurier born . beloved, let us love so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our work: and both commended for the sake of each by all true workers and true lovers born. --elizabeth b. browning. earth saddens, never shall remove, affections purely given; and e'en that mortal grief shall prove the immortality of love, and heighten it with heaven. --elizabeth b. browning. and if i bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if i give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing. -- corinthians . . loving father, i pray that i may not try to change the standard of love by grafting on my own selfishness and infirmities. may i remember that it is mostly for gratification that love is held to the base in life; may i follow it to the summits, where it is divine. amen. march seventh sir thomas wilson died . sir edwin landseer born . luther burbank born . earth gets its price for what it gives us; the beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, the priest has his fee who comes and shrives us, we bargain for the graves we lie in; at the devil's booth are all things sold, each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; for a cap and bells our lives we pay, bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking; 'tis heaven alone that is given away, 'tis only god may be had for the asking. --james russell lowell. we are our own fates. our own deeds are our doomsmen. man's life was made not for men's creeds, but men's actions. --owen meredith. the free gift of god is eternal life. --romans . . gracious father, may the world speak to me of thy love, and of thy gifts of peace and power, which it freely offers. may i not pass by its great values, and prefer to purchase at a great cost my indolence and dissipation. --amen. march eighth dr. john fothergill born . c.p. cranch born . anna letitia barbauld died . o boundless self-contentment voiced in flying air-born bubbles! o joy that mocks our sad unrest, and frowns our earth-born troubles! the life that floods the happy fields with song and light and color, will shape our lives to richer states and heap our measures fuller. --c.p. cranch. one may secure and preserve that repose in the turbulence of a great city--as shakespeare surely found and preserved it in the london of the sixteenth century. for repose does not depend on external conditions; it depends on sound adjustment to tasks, opportunities, pleasures, and the general order of life. --hamilton mabie. that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in godliness and gravity. -- timothy . . gracious father, help me to understand that peace cannot abide in misery, nor can it stay with every mood. may i be able to overcome the depression that may keep me in sadness and isolation, and have delight in the gladness of friends, and live in the peace of strong resolutions. amen. march ninth americus vespucius born . lewis gonzaga born . comte de mirabeau born . william cobbett born . edwin forrest born . yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, and blanch not at thy chosen lot; the timid good may stand aloof, the sage may frown--yet faint thou not; nor heed the shaft too surely cast, the foul and hissing bolt of scorn; for with thy side shall dwell, at last, the victory of endurance born. --william c. bryant. you cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself into one. --james anthony froude. can thy heart endure, or can thy hands be strong, in the days that i shall deal with thee? --ezekiel . . loving father, search me, and if there be any evil ways in me, correct them, and lead me into the ways everlasting. i pray that i may not be deformed from selfishness, but with a lowly and expectant heart run with patience and triumph the race that is set before me. amen. march tenth bishop duppa born . professor playfair born . charles loyson (père hyacinthe) born . so he died by his faith. that is fine-- more than the most of us do. but stay. can you add to that line that he lived for it too? it is easy to die. men have died for a wish or a whim-- from bravado or passion or pride. was it hard for him? but to live: every day to live out all the truth that he dreamt, while his friends met his conduct with doubt, and the world with contempt. was it thus that he plodded ahead, never turning aside? then we'll talk of the life that he led. never mind how he died. --ernest crosby. for i have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the lord jehovah: wherefore turn yourselves, and live. --ezekiel . . almighty god, help me to live an upright life. give me courage to abandon useless customs, and seeming duties that keep me from perfecting my life. amen. march eleventh torquato tasso born . alexander mackenzie died . henry drummond died . there is nothing that is puerile in nature; and he who becomes impassioned of a flower, a blade of grass, a butterfly's wing, a nest, a shell, wraps around a small thing that always contains a great truth. to succeed in modifying the appearance of a flower is insignificant in itself, if you will; but reflect upon it for however short a while and it becomes gigantic. --maurice maeterlinck. o world, as god has made it! all is beauty: and knowing this, is love, and love is duty: what further may be sought for or declared? --robert browning. consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: yet i say unto you, that even solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. --matthew . , . creator of all, i do know that if i may hold myself close enough, i can hear restful music through the breeze, and find secrets in the flowers and leaves. i rejoice that thou hast made the woods and rivers that thou dost love, so i too might possess them, and not be a tenant of them only. may i look and study deeper the things which bring me closer to thee. amen. march twelfth cesare borgia killed . bishop buckley born . simon newcomb born . among the happiest and proudest possessions of a man is his character. it is a wreath, it is a bank in itself. what is the essence and life of character? principle, integrity, independence. --bulwer lytton. no great genius was ever without some mixture of madness, nor can anything grand or superior to the voice of common mortals be spoken except by the agitated soul. --aristotle. handsome is that handsome does. --oliver goldsmith. since thou hast been precious in my sight, and honorable, and i have loved thee; therefore will i give men in thy stead, and peoples instead of thy life. --isaiah . . lord god, forbid that i should try to supplant character with manners and worldly goods. may i remember that thou seest me, and knowest me, and i need no shield from thee. help me that i may be found acceptable while thou dost search me to the depths of the soul. amen. march thirteenth joseph priestley born . esther johnson (stella) born . regina maria roche died . if stores of dry and learned lore we gain we keep them in the memory of the brain; names, things, and facts--whate'er we knowledge call, there is the common ledger for them all; and images on this cold surface traced make slight impressions and are soon effaced. but we've a page more glowing and more bright on which our friendship and our love to write; that these may never from the soul depart, we trust them to the memory of the heart. there is no dimming--no effacement here; each pulsation keeps the record clear; warm golden letters all the tablet fill, nor lose their luster till the heart stands still. --daniel webster. i often wonder why it is that we are not all kinder than we are. how much the world needs it! how easily it is done! how instantaneously it acts! how infallibly it is remembered! --henry drummond. cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days. --ecclesiastes . . my father, thou hast taught me through the gifts of life, that there is no labor or price too dear to pay for love. i pray to love thee more that i may have more love to bestow on others. amen. march fourteenth thomas h. benton born . johann strauss born . victor emmanuel born . rivers to the ocean run, nor stay in all their course; fire ascending seeks the sun; both speed them to their source; so a soul that's born of god, pants to view his glorious face, upward tends to his abode, to rest in his embrace. --robert seagrave. as the bird trims her to the gale i trim myself to the storm of time; i man the rudder, reef the sail, obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime; lowly faithful, banish fear, the port well worth the cruise is near and every wave is charmed. --ralph waldo emerson. as the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, o god. --psalm . . my father, i pray that if i meet with difficulty, i may not go backward, nor stand still, and fear to go forward. unfold to me the depth and breadth of the ideal and beautiful, that i may not be content to succeed in the shallowness of life: but may i aspire to the height of the soul, even if i fail to acquire great things. amen. march fifteenth julius cæsar killed b.c. . peasants war began . andrew jackson, north carolina, seventh president united states, born . john davenport died . i will take the responsibility! --andrew jackson. what ought to be possible for everyone is to arrive at a sort of harmony of life, to have definite things that they want to do.... the people whom it is hard to fit into any scheme of benevolent creation are the vague, insignificant, drifting people, whose only rooted tendency is to do whatever is suggested to them. --arthur c. benson. heard are the voices, heard are the sages, the worlds, and the ages; choose well! your choice is brief and endless. --goethe. only be strong and very courageous, to observe to do according to all the law.... --joshua . . gracious father, i pray that thou wilt free me from evil thoughts before they become a habit. create in me that freedom which makes me not ashamed to acknowledge the wrong, and which will enable me to stand for the right. quicken my thoughts, that they may keep my heart inspired. amen. march sixteenth james madison, virginia, fourth president united states, born . caroline lucretia herschel born . alexander watts born . if we live truly we shall see truly. it is as easy for the strong man to be strong as it is for the weak to be weak. when we have new perception we shall gladly disburthen the memory of the hoarded treasures as old rubbish. when a man lives with god his voice shall be as sweet as the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the corn. --ralph waldo emerson. the tissue of the life to be, we weave with colors all our own, and in the field of destiny we reap as we have sown. --raphael. now when they beheld the boldness of peter and john, and had perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marveled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with jesus. --acts . . lord god, quiet me if i am not calm, that my soul may be able to contemplate and have an opportunity to grow. help me, that i may be able even in discouragements to have the true perception of life. amen. march seventeenth saint patrick's day. ebenezer elliott born . dr. thomas chalmers born . moncure d. conway born . clara morris born . what is really wanted is to light up the spirit that is within a child. in some sense and in some effectual degree there is in every child the material of good work in the world; and in every child, not only in those who are brilliant, not only in those who are quick, but in those who are stolid, and even in those who are dull. --william gladstone. if you make children happy now, you will make them happy twenty years hence by the memory of it. --kate douglas wiggin. and these words, which i command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. --deuteronomy . , . lord god, may i be diligent for the progress of little children. show me how i may minister unto them; and grant that i may be able to see the necessity of giving, more than i do the pleasure of receiving. amen. march eighteenth william byrd died . john c. calhoun born . grover cleveland, new jersey, twenty-second president united states, born . my minde to me a kingdom is: such perfect joy therein i finde as far exceeds all earthly blisse that god or nature hath assignede. --william byrd. teach your proud will to make those nobler choices which bring to soul and heart enduring health. deafen your ears to those contending voices, look in your heart, learn your own being's wealth. its resources vast, its undiscovered treasure waiting for these same idle hands to mine. learn that the grandest of nature's creations may not be bounded by man's limitations. --rose e. cleveland. but he is in one mind, and who can turn him? and what his soul desireth, even that he doeth. --job . . almighty god, grant that i may never succumb to the controlling influences of the body, and lose the power of my mind. may i guard the dictates of my heart and keep my mind in command to obey thy will. amen. march nineteenth david livingstone born . alice french (octave thanet) born . william jennings bryan born . isn't it interesting to get blamed for everything? but i must be thankful in feeling that i would rather perish than blame another for my misdeeds and deficiencies. --david livingstone. criticism is helpful. if a man makes a mistake, criticism enables him to correct it; if he is unjustly criticized, the criticism helps him. i have had my share of criticism since i have been in public life, but it has not prevented me from doing what i thought proper to do. --william jennings bryan. for himself hath said, i will in no wise fail thee, neither will i in any wise forsake thee. so that with good courage we say, the lord is my helper; i will not fear. --hebrews . , . loving father, i thank thee that thou art the same yesterday, to-day, and forever; and i am glad i cannot receive from thee the slights and wounds that i may give or receive from my friends. may i be considerate and more forgiving, and by my sincerity be worthy of the purpose which i pursue. amen. march twentieth publius ovidius (ovid) born b.c. . sir isaac newton died . karl august nicander born . henrik ibsen born . whoever is not with me in the essential things of life, him i no longer know--i owe him no consideration. --henrik ibsen. only he who lives in truth finds it. the deepest truth is not born of conscious striving, but comes in the quiet hour when a noble nature gives itself into the keeping of life, to suffer, to feel, to think, and to act as it is moved by a wisdom not its own. --hamilton mabie. forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, i press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high calling of god. --philippians . , . lord god, i thank thee for the silent ways of revelation which bring hopeful communion with thee. help me to be composed, that my life may not create a noise and my soul miss the messages that come from the depths of truth and love. amen. march twenty-first johann sebastian bach born . archbishop cranmer burnt at oxford . jean paul richter born . henry kirke white born . go through life with soft influences breathing around thee. keep thy heart high above the many-colored mist of earth and above its storm clouds. --jean paul richter. recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out. --jean paul richter. come, disappointment, come! thou art not stern to me; sad monitress! i own thy sway, a votary sad in every day, i bend my knee to thee, from sun to sun my race will run; i only bow, and say, my god, thy will be done! --henry kirke white. if i say, i will forget my complaint, i will put off my sad countenance, and be of good cheer. --job . . gracious father, help me to respond cheerfully when called upon to give. may i never repent of tenderness which others fail to appreciate, but may i be glad of all that i give and for all i receive. amen. march twenty-second sir anthony vandyke born . caroline sheridan norton born . johann goethe died . dr. farrar, dean of canterbury, died . rosa bonheur born . red love still rules the day, white faith enfolds the night, and hope, green-mantled, leads the way by the walls of the city of light. therefore i walk as one who sees the joy shine through of the other life behind our life, like the stars behind the blue. --dean farrar. there can be no greater delight than is experienced by a man who, by his own unaided resources, frees himself from the consequences of error: heaven looks down with satisfaction upon such a spectacle. --goethe. thine eyes shall see the king in his beauty: they shall behold a land that reacheth afar. --isaiah . . lord god, help me to remember that i may not only be forgiven for my transgression, but with thy help i may be led away from the wrong. may i be content to follow where thou dost lead. amen. march twenty-third pierre savant la place born . schuyler colfax born . richard a. proctor born . silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together; that at length they may emerge, full-formed and majestic, into the daylight of life.... nay, in thy own mean perplexities, do thou thyself but hold thy tongue for one day; on the morrow how much clearer are thy purposes and duties! --thomas carlyle. deliberate much before you say and do anything; for it will not be in your power to recall what is said or done. --epictetus. set a watch, o jehovah, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips. --psalm . . my lord, make me a lover of the truth. make me careful of my thoughts, and the words i would speak, that i may not think selfishly and speak cruelly, but keep myself holy unto thee. amen. march twenty-fourth queen elizabeth died . fanny crosby born . henry w. longfellow died . sir edwin arnold died . every quivering tongue of flame seems to murmur some great name, seems to say to me "aspire!" no endeavor is in vain; its reward is in the doing, and the rapture of pursuing is the prize of vanquished gain. --henry w. longfellow. never be sad or desponding if thou hast faith to believe; grace for the duties before thee ask of thy god and receive. --fanny crosby. i spread forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a weary land. --psalm . . almighty god, make me conscious of my weaknesses, and make me ashamed of my indulgences. give me a victory over self; and may i consider more what i put in my life. may i be eager for that which will inspire me for greater aspirations. amen. march twenty-fifth archbishop john williams born . joachim murat born . anna seward died . how awful is the thought of the wonders underground, of the mystic changes wrought in the silent, dark profound! how each thing upward tends by necessity decreed, and the world's support depends on the shooting of a seed! the summer's in her ark, and this sunny-pinioned day is commissioned to remark whether winter holds her sway: go back, thou dove of peace, with myrtle on thy wing, say that floods and tempests cease, and the world is ripe for spring. --horace smith. i should never have made my success in life if i had not bestowed upon the least thing i have ever undertaken the same attention and care that i have bestowed upon the greatest. --charles dickens. gather up the broken pieces which remain over, that nothing be lost. --john . . loving father, cause me to learn from nature that to have perfection i must be attentive at the beginning of growth. help me to select with care the soil wherein i plant; and to weed and cultivate my life that it may grow to beauty and usefulness. amen. march twenty-sixth konrad von gesner born . w. e. h. lecky born . gustave guillaumet born . walt whitman died . every man takes care that his neighbor shall not cheat him, but a day comes when he begins to care that he do not cheat his neighbor. then all goes well. he has changed his market-cart into a chariot of the sun. --ralph waldo emerson. he that is unacquainted with the nature of the world must be at a loss to know where he is. and he that cannot tell the ends he was made for is ignorant both of himself and the world too. --marcus aurelius. give diligence to present thyself approved unto god, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, handling aright the word of truth. -- timothy . . almighty god, may i not only approve of justice and kindness, but practice it. grant that i may be attentive to the call of work and steadfast in completing it. may i be sincere to those who are dear to me, and never falter in my support to those who are dependent upon me. amen. march twenty-seventh alfred vigny born . general a. w. greely born . sir gilbert scott died . it takes great strength to bring your life up square with your accepted thought and hold it there: resisting the inertia that drags it back from new attempts, to the old habit's track. it is so easy to drift back, to sink. so hard to live abreast of what you think. --charlotte perkins stetson. if a person had delivered up your body to anyone whom he met in his way, you would certainly be angry. and do you feel no shame in delivering up your own mind to be disconcerted and confounded by anyone who happens to give you ill language. --epictetus. wherefore, o king agrippa, i was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision. --acts . . my father, my soul sinks with shame when i think of the great moments that i have given over to mean little things. help me that i may reckon more on the value of time, and live not to tolerate life, but to have a great need for it, that day by day i may have a deeper consciousness of its appropriate use. amen. march twenty-eighth santi d'urbino raphael born . sir thomas smith born . margaret (peg) woffington died . they may not need me, yet they might; i'll let my heart be just in sight-- a smile so small as mine might be precisely their necessity. --unknown. you hear that boy laughing?--you think he's all fun; but the angels laugh too at the good he has done; the children laugh loud as they troop to his call, and the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all. --oliver wendell holmes. let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other. --ephesians . . lord god, i pray that i may be fair, and not pass judgment on those whom i like or those whom i dislike, and so bring unhappy regrets. may i remember that, though hasty judgment often may be temporary, the gain or loss of a friend may be permanent. amen. march twenty-ninth dr. john lightfoot born . john tyler, virginia, tenth president united states, born . amelia barr born . the year's at the spring and the day's at the morn; the hillside's dew-pearled; the lark's on the wing: the snail's on the thorn; god's in his heaven: all's well with the world. --robert browning. dear lord and father of mankinds forgive our feverish ways; reclothe us in our rightful mind; in purer lives thy service find, in deeper reverence praise. --john g. whittier. in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength. --isaiah . . lord god, i beseech thee to give me the strength which endures. grant that i may have the ceaseless content which is secured by choosing and continuing in the right way. from the wealth of each day renew my hope, and quiet my soul with the calm of thy peace. amen. march thirtieth sir henry wotton born . archbishop somner born . john fiske born . john constable died . i said, "let us walk in the field." he said, "nay walk in the town." i said, "there are no flowers there." he said, "no flowers but a crown." i said, "but the air is thick, and the fogs are veiling the sun." he answered, "yet souls are sick and souls in the dark undone." i cast one look at the field, then set my face to the town. he said: "my child, do you yield? will ye leave the flowers for the crown?" then into his hand went mine and into my heart came he, and i walked in a light divine the path i had feared to see. --george macdonald. now therefore amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of jehovah your god. --jeremiah . . eternal god, teach me the way of a complete and unbroken trust. in my disappointments, and in my devotions, may my faith and hope be as immortal as my soul. may i listen for thy voice and answer thy call. amen. march thirty-first ludwig von beethoven died . joseph francis haydn born . andrew lang born . charlotte brontë died . the great being unseen, but all-present, who in his beneficence desires only our welfare, watches the struggle between good and evil in our hearts, and waits to see whether we obey his voice, heard in the whispers of conscience, or lend an ear to the spirit evil, which seeks to lead us astray. rough and steep is the path indicated by divine suggestion; mossy and declining the green way along which temptation strews flowers. then conscience whispers, "do what you feel is right, obey me, and i will plant for you firm footing." --charlotte brontë. god help us do our duty, and not shrink, and trust in heaven humbly for the rest. --owen meredith. i call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that i have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse: therefore choose life. --deuteronomy . . my father, as i review my life i am impressed how accurately my deeds have copied my thoughts. and though i have failed the so often, yet i pray that thou wilt accept my yearnings, to think and work for the best in every day. amen. april god's april is coming up the hill, and the noisy winds are quieting down, subdued by the fragrance of the wild flowers on the way. lest we miss the richness of life, while pursuing the world, god continues to pour out precious fragrance from his storehouse, and unconsciously, our souls are lulled to peace through the sweetness of april days. --m.b.s. april first all fools' day. william harvey born . prince von bismarck born . edwin a. abbey born . agnes repplier born . it is a peculiar quality of a fool to perceive the faults of others, and to forget his own. --cicero. a man may be as much a fool from the want of sensibility as the want of sense. --mrs. jameson. he that knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool: shun him. --arabian maxim. seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? there is more hope of a fool than of him. --proverbs . . almighty god, grant that i may be spared the allurements of deceptive happiness which leaves weary days. i ask for wisdom that i may not speak foolishly, think foolishly, or act foolishly; and may i not be detained by the foolishness of others, but pursue my work, whether it be far or near. amen. april second charlemagne born . thomas jefferson, virginia, third president united states, born . hans andersen born . frederic a. bartholdi born . emile zola born . when a man assumes a public trust he should consider himself public property. --thomas jefferson. we hold these truths to be self-evident--that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. --declaration of independence. breathes there the man with soul so dead who never to himself hath said, this is my own, my native land! whose heart hath ne'er within him burned as home his footsteps he hath turned from wandering on a foreign strand? --sir walter scott. render therefore unto cæsar the things that are cæsar's. --matthew . . my lord, i thank thee for the wisdom and love that is spoken through the lives of strong men and women. grant that i may be willing to learn of them, and gladly serve where i am needed, remembering that thou art lord of all. amen. april third george herbert born . washington irving born . edward everett hale born . john burroughs born . sum up at night what thou hast done by day and in the morning what thou hast to do: dress and undress thy soul: mark the decay and growth of it; if with thy watch that too be dowl, then wind up both; since we shall be most surely judged, make thy accounts agree. --george herbert. to look up and not down, to look forward and not back, to look out and not in, and to lend a hand. --edward e. hale. there is a healthy hardiness about real dignity that never dreads contact and communion with others, however humble. --washington irving. i put on righteousness, and it clothed me: my justice was as a robe and a diadem. --job . . my lord, i pray that i may always be found clothed in love and kindness. make me worthy to minister to those who may be dependent on me, and whether they be rich or poor, high or low, may i try to help them. amen. april fourth oliver goldsmith died . dorothea dix born . james freeman clarke born . "the greatest object in the universe," said a certain philosopher, "is a good man struggling with adversity"; yet there is still a greater, which is the good man who comes to relieve it. --oliver goldsmith. yet i believe that somewhere, soon or late, a peace will fall upon the angry reaches of my mind; a peace initiate in some heroic hour when i behold a friend's long-quested triumph, or unbind the tressed gold from a child's laughing face. i still believe-- so much believe. --j. drinkwater. but whoso hath the world's goods, and beholdeth his brother in need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how doth the love of god abide in him? -- john . . almighty god, may i have a liberal heart. grant that i may feel the needs of thy children in all lands; and may i be willing to give of thy blessings, as i am ready to receive them. may my tribute be not only of tender thoughts and kind words, but may i give of myself, and of what i have, as thou hast through love and wisdom done for me. amen. april fifth elihu yale born . sir henry havelock born . frank stockton (francis) born . algernon charles swinburne born . as morning hears before it run the music of the mounting sun, and laughs to watch his trophies won from darkness, and her hosts undone, and all the night becomes a breath, nor dreams that fear should hear and flee the summer menace of the sea, so hear our hope what life may be, and know it not for death. --algernon charles swinburne. i came from god, and i'm going back to god, and i won't have any gaps of death in the middle of my life. --george macdonald. the hope of the righteous shall be gladness; but the expectation of the wicked shall perish. --proverbs . . lord god, teach me the way and show me the light of the eternal day; and may the vision fill my soul as i take courage and follow it. may i not be fearful of what may be provided, but remember that before the creation of life thou didst have a purpose in death. may i be trustful. amen. april sixth albert dürer died . james mill born . jean baptiste rousseau born . even if the sacrifices which are made to duty and virtue are painful to make, they are well repaid by the sweet recollections which they leave at the bottom of the heart. --jean b. rousseau. i am the man of a thousand loves, a thousand loves have i; and all my loves are white-winged doves, that into my soul would fly. i am the man of a thousand friends of tuneful memory; and each of them spends the delicate ends of a brilliant day with me. and all my gifts are magical words that sing sweet songs to me; and the sensitive words are caroling birds in the garden of imagery. --edwin leibfreed. be thou faithful unto death, and i will give thee the crown of life. --revelation . . loving father, i bless thee for thy love and ministry. may i enter into a broader conception of sharing thy gifts. may i not seek thy blessings to keep, but to use for renewed inspiration. amen. april seventh saint francis xavier born . william wordsworth born . william ellery channing born . my heart leaps up when i behold a rainbow in the sky: so was it when my life began; so is it now i am a man; so be it when i shall grow old, or let me die! the child is father of the man; and i could wish my days to be bound each to each by natural piety. --william wordsworth. a self-controlled mind is a free mind, and freedom is power. i call that mind free which jealously guards its intellectual rights and powers. i call that mind free which resists the bondage of habit, which does not live on its old virtues, but forgets what is behind, and rejoices to pour itself forth in fresh and higher exertions. --william ellery channing. that ye be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, that after god hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth. --ephesians . , . lord god, give me the power to control my mind and heart, that i may not be a slave to habits that may keep me from eternal love and blessedness. may i have sympathy and compassion for others, and cherish thy tenderness and mercy as i hold it in my daily life. amen. april eighth petrarch crowned . william herbert, earl of pembroke, born . david rittenhouse born . if i can stop one heart from breaking, i shall not live in vain; if i can ease one life from aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, i shall not live in vain. --emily dickinson. the most solid comfort one can fall back upon is the thought that the business of one's life is to help in some small way to reduce the sum of ignorance, degradation, and misery on the face of this beautiful earth. --george eliot. make full my joy, that ye be of the same mind, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind; doing nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind each counting other better than himself. --philippians . , . my father, take away the spirit, if i may be inclined to keep the best, and to be always seeking my portion. may i have the desire to share with those who have less, and to give to those who may have more, whether it be of bread or love. amen. april ninth fisher ames born . john opie died . dante gabriel rossetti died . gather a shell from the strown beach and listen at its lips; they sigh the same desire and mystery, the echo of the whole sea's speech. and all mankind is this at heart-- not anything but what thou art: and earth, sea, man are all in each. --dante gabriel rossetti. and as, in sparkling majesty, a star gilds the bright summit of some glory cloud; brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar; so when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, sweet hope! celestial influence round me shed, waving the silver pinions o'er my head. --john keats. now the god of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, in the power of the holy spirit. --romans . . almighty god, may i ever know the generous glow that comes with an overwhelming desire to cultivate the soul. with hope may i find the way through the darkness that leads to immortality, even if i may have to experience the weariness that may accompany it. amen. april tenth hugo grotius born . william hazlitt born . general lew wallace born . general william booth born . the essence of happy living is never to find life dull, never to feel the ugly weariness which comes of overstrain; to be fresh, cheerful, leisurely, sociable, unhurried, well-balanced. it seems to me impossible to be these things unless we have time to consider life a little, to deliberate, to select, to abstain. --arthur c. benson. four things come not back--the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, the neglected opportunity. --william hazlitt. wherefore, brethren, give the more diligence to make your calling and election sure. -- peter . . my father, may i not miss my work through indifference and feel it is thy neglect of me. may i be reminded that the enrichment of life comes through persistency and being consistent, and may not be found on the idle paths of extravagant ways. help me to take up my work with a willing spirit and give my best to it. amen. april eleventh george canning born . edward everett born . donald g. mitchell (ik marvel) born . the safe path to excellence and success in every calling, is that of appropriate preliminary education, diligent application to learn the art of assiduity and practicing it. --edward everett. that nothing walks with aimless feet; that not one life shall be destroyed, or cast as rubbish to the void, when god hath made the pile complete. behold, we know not anything: i can but trust that good shall fall at last--far off--at last, to all, and every winter change to spring. --alfred tennyson. and we desire that each one of you may show the same diligence unto the fullness of hope even to the end: that ye be not sluggish, but imitators of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises. --hebrews . , . lord god, help me in all my circumstances, and be with me in my daily work. help me in my efforts, as i endeavor to attain, and may my will be hid in thine. amen. april twelfth edward young died . edward bird born . henry clay born . i would rather be right than be president. --henry clay. who does the best his circumstances allow does well, acts nobly; angels could no more. --edward young. pedigree haz no more to do in making a man aktually grater than he iz than a pekok's feather in his hat haz in making him aktually taller. when the world stands in need of an arestokrat, natur pitches one into it, and furnishes him papers without enny flaw in them. --josh billings. cast not away therefore your boldness, which hath great recompense of reward. for ye have need of patience, that, having done the will of god, ye may receive the promise. --hebrews . , . lord god, help me to select with care the site, the plans, and the foundation of my life. may i use the best material; and may it be worthy of a permanent home. amen. april thirteenth madame jeanne guyon born . dr. thomas beddoes born . james harper born . if there were dreams to sell, merry and sad to tell, and the crier rang the bell, what would you buy? a cottage lone and still with bowers nigh, shadowy, my woes to still, until i die. such pearl from life's fresh crown fain would i shake me down, were dreams to have at will this would best heal my ill, this would i buy. --thomas lovell beddoes. i pray you, bear me hence from forth the noise and rumor of the field where i may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires. --william shakespeare. come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile. --mark . . lord god, help me to bear in mind that to step aside and safeguard the mind in contemplation is a safe guard to the soul. amen. april fourteenth dr. george gregory born . george frederic handel died . horace bushnell born . flower in the crannied wall, i pluck you out of the crannies-- hold you here, root and all, in my hand, little flower--but if i could understand what you are, root and all, and all in all, i should know what god and man is. --alfred tennyson. so much is history stranger than fiction, and so true it is nature has caprices which art dares not imitate. --thomas macaulay. nature is the face of god. he appears to us through it, and we can read his thoughts in it. --victor hugo. many, o jehovah my god, are the wonderful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward. --psalm . . eternal god, i thank thee for the seasons which bring abundance and beauty. i thank thee for thy loving care, which is over all and forever. may i behold thy works and make thee a very present help for all my needs, and perceive the joy of thy love through the greatness of the earth. amen. april fifteenth emile souvestre born . john lothrop motley born . henry james born . abraham lincoln died . two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the last third in repentance. --emile souvestre. and, having thus chosen our course, let us renew our trust in god and go forward without fear and with manly hearts. --abraham lincoln. the barriers are not erected which shall say to aspiring talent, "thus far and no further." --beethoven. be strong and of good courage. --joshua . . almighty god, i pray that i may always be alive to my opportunities, but may i never leave others impoverished by taking advantage of them. may my prosperity be conducted with my eyes open, guarding what i give and receive, that my possessions may remain valuable through life. amen. april sixteenth charles montagu, earl of halifax, born . charles w. peale born . sir john franklin born . weary of myself and sick of asking what i am, and what i ought to be, at the vessel's prow i stand, which bears me forward, forward, o'er the starlit sea o air-born voice! long since severely clear, a cry like thine in my own heart i hear. resolve to be thyself: and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery. --matthew arnold. this above all to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou can'st not then be false to any man. --william shakespeare. let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight before thee. make level the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. --proverbs . , . my father, give me a sense of nearness to thee when i may be faltering from weariness in well doing. may i hold to my determinations. help me to know what is useless, that i may not give unnecessary energy, and to know what is worth while, that i may acquire strength through the power of truth. amen. april seventeenth bishop benjamin hoadley died . benjamin franklin died . william g. simms born . shall i ask the brave soldier who fights at my side, in the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree? shall i give up the friend i have valued and tried, if he kneel not before the same altar as me? --thomas moore. i met a little elf-man once, down where the lilies blow. i asked him why he was so small and why he didn't grow. he slightly frowned, and with his eye he looked me through and through. "i'm quite as big for me," said he "as you are big for you." --john kendrick bangs. woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight! --isaiah . . loving father, grant that i may not barter love with formalities, nor sacrifice love for customs. but, may i have a fellowship that is true and sincere, and that may be counted on, though all and for all. amen. april eighteenth lord jeffreys died . george henry lewes born . sir francis baring born . nor can i count him happiest who has never been forced with his own hand his chains to sever, and for himself find out the way divine; he never knew the aspirer's glorious pains, he never earned the struggler's priceless gains. --james russell lowell. there is not time for hate, o wasteful friend. put hate away until the ages end. have you an ancient wound? forget the wrong-- out in my west a forest loud with song towers high and green over a field of snow, over a glacier buried far below. --edwin markham. fight the good fight of the faith, lay hold on the life eternal, whereunto thou wast called, and didst confess the good confession in the sight of many witnesses. -- timothy . . lord god, help me to realize the power of my life. i feel ashamed and alarmed when i think of the grievous wrongs i may have done for greed. may i have delight in the struggles i have made for the ways of righteousness. make me careful to avoid the things that debase life. may i aspire for the highest and best. amen. april nineteenth roger sherman born . lord byron died . lord beaconsfield (disraeli) died . charles darwin died . the secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes. --disraeli. one sees, and the other does not see; one enjoys an unspeakable pleasure, and the other loses that pleasure which is as free to him as the air.... the whole outward world is the kingdom of the observant eye. he who enters into any part of that kingdom to possess it has a store of pure enjoyment in life which is literally inexhaustible and immeasurable. his eyes alone will give him a life worth living. --charles w. eliot. having eyes, see ye not? --mark . . my father, help me to realize that i cannot feel the joy that breathes through the early morning unless i am with it. may i see distinctly the glory of to-day. help me to be watchful and keep my spirit awake, that i may receive thy revelations. amen. april twentieth marcus aurelius born . elizabeth barton (maid of kent) executed sir francis t. baring born . alice cary born . do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. death stands at your elbow. be good for something while you live and it is in your power. --marcus aurelius. and o, my heart, my heart, be careful to go strewing in and out the way with good deeds, lest it come about that when thou shalt depart, no low lamenting tongue be found to say, the world is poorer since thou went'st away --alice cary. a good man prolongs his life; to be able to enjoy one's past life is to live twice. --martial. the righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance. --psalm . . heavenly father, thou hast made my life dear; forgive me if i have made dearer the things that i have put around it. many days have been used for costly things that have faded and are laid aside. may i realize the meaning of days that have been lost. make me more concerned for what i put in the days to come. amen. april twenty-first peter f. abelard died . friedrich fröbel born . reginald heber born . james martineau born . charlotte brontë born . henry shaw (josh billings) born . education should lead and guide man to clearness concerning himself and in himself, to peace with nature, and to unity with god. --friedrich fröbel. when spring unlocks the flowers, to paint the laughing soil; when summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil; when winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood, in god the earth rejoiceth still, and owns its maker good. --reginald heber. a memory without a blot or contamination must be an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment. --charlotte brontë. for ye are all sons of light, and sons of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. -- thessalonians . . lord of light, thou art the light of my life. may i make thee the joy and light of my soul. call me to where it is clear and high, that i may see above the mist. may i not weary in climbing to reach thee in the high places. amen. april twenty-second henry fielding born . immanuel kant born . philip james bailey born . we live in deeds, not years: in thoughts, not breaths: in feelings, not in figures on a dial. we should count time by heart-throbs. he most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. --philip james bailey. men cease to interest us when we find their limitations. the only sin is limitation. as soon as you once come up with a man's limitations it is all over with him. --ralph waldo emerson. but he that looketh into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and so continueth, being not a hearer that forgeteth but a doer that worketh, this man shall be blessed in his doing. --james . . lord god, help me to break away from habits that fasten me in the ruts of life. draw me out to thy broad way, where there are no limits to thy wonderful works, that i may expand my life. amen. april twenty-third william shakespeare born , died . cervantes died . j.m.w. turner born . james buchanan, pennsylvania, fifteenth president united states, born . james anthony froude born . thomas nelson page born . edwin markham born . my crown is in my heart, not on my head: not decked with diamonds and indian stones, nor to be seen. my crown is called content. a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. --william shakespeare. at the heart of the cyclone tearing the sky and flinging the clouds and the towers by is a place of central calm: so here in the roar of mortal things, i have a place where my spirit sings, in the hollow of god's palm. --edwin markham. rest in jehovah, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way. --psalm . . almighty god, my heart beats quicker and the desire for thy care grows stronger when i remember thy promises are given for all eternity. may i be grateful and contented with thy love and care. amen. april twenty-fourth edmund cartwright born . anthony trollope born . arthur christopher benson born . by religion i mean the power, whatever it be, which makes a man choose what is hard rather than what is easy; what is lofty and noble rather than what is mean and selfish; that puts courage into timorous hearts and gladness into clouded spirits. --arthur c. benson. for all noble things the time is long and the way rude.... for every start and struggle of impatience there shall be so much attendant failure.... but the fire which patience carries in her own hand is that truly stolen from heaven--unquenchable incense of life. --john ruskin. but they that wait for jehovah shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint. --isaiah . . my father, i pray that i may not be indifferent to the call of my soul. may i not seek to serve the disappearing and neglect to make life worthy. acquaint me with the permanent values of life. make clear the way of strength, that i may not be misled by ease and carried to weakness. may my life be ennobled by the power of my possessions. amen. april twenty-fifth oliver cromwell born . john keble born . alexander duff born . guglielmo marconi born . mrs. burton harrison (constance cary) born . samuel wesley died . truly god follows us with encouragements: let him not lose his blessing upon us! they come in season, and with all the advantages of heartening, as if god should say, "up and be doing, and i will stand by you and help you!" there is nothing to be feared but our own sin and sloth. --oliver cromwell. sun of my soul, thou saviour dear, it is not night if thou be near; o may no earthborn cloud arise to hide thee from thy servants' eyes. --john keble. for jehovah god is a sun and a shield: jehovah will give grace and glory; no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. --psalm . . my father, may i not err in choosing thy benefits, nor fail from the neglect to use them. make me appreciative of all thy gifts, and, through thy wisdom and power, may i find the best use for them. amen. april twenty-sixth david hume born . daniel defoe died . charles f. browne (artemus ward) born . how strange a chequer-work of providence is the life of man! and by what secret different springs are the affections hurried about, as different circumstances present! to-day we love what to-morrow we hate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear; nay, even tremble at the apprehension of. --daniel defoe. now don't do nothin' which isn't your fort, for ef you do you'll find yourself splashin' round in the kanawl, figgeratively speakin'. --artemus ward. now there are diversities of gifts, but the same spirit. and there are diversities of ministrations, and the same lord. and there are diversities of workings, but the same god, who worketh all things in all. -- corinthians . - . lord forbid that i should fear to change for the better or be so pleased with myself and the things which surround me that i feel no need for a higher life. make me dissatisfied if i am not trying to grow in truth and to live in noble deeds. amen. april twenty-seventh samuel morse born . lajos kossuth born . herbert spencer born . ulysses s. grant, ohio, eighteenth president united states, born . ralph waldo emerson died . people who are dishonest, or rash, or stupid will inevitably suffer the penalties of dishonesty, or rashness, or stupidity. --herbert spencer. abide in the simple and noble regions of thy life; obey thy heart. --ralph waldo emerson. well, then, we must cut our way out. --general grant. wherefore take up the whole armor of god, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand. --ephesians . . loving father, help me to live a simple and noble life. grant that i may have the blessedness that comes through peace, and escape the misery that comes from cruelty and untruth. through my life may what i reap show that i have been careful in choosing and cultivating what i have sown. amen. april twenty-eighth charles cotton born . james monroe, virginia, fifth president united states, born . anthony ashley, earl of shaftesbury, born . during a long life i have proved that not one kind word ever spoken, not one kind deed ever done, but sooner or later returns to bless the giver, and becomes a chain, binding men with golden bands to the throne of god. --earl of shaftesbury. there's many a time when the bitterest thing is said without reason, and god knows the courage it takes to suffer the sting, by hiding the wounds that the heart shows. there's many a sob we bravely keep down for the sake of old times revered so, there's many a head with thorns for a crown where kisses would soon make the heart glow. --edwin leibfreed. so shalt thou know wisdom to be unto thy soul; if thou hast found it, then shall there be a reward, and thy hope shall not be cut off. --proverbs . . my father, if i am to-day without happiness, may i go in search of it. help me to remember that the will thou hast given me to overcome evil with good i may use to overcome misery with happiness. make me careful that i may not be trapped by selfishness as i look for joy. may i delight in the sweet sensations that are felt in having consideration for others, and may i make kindness a daily habit. amen. april twenty-ninth michel ruyter died . abbe charles de st. pierre died . matthew vassar born . edward rowland sill born . never yet was a springtime, late though lingered the snow, that the sap stirred not at the whisper of the south wind, sweet and low; never yet was a springtime when the buds forgot to blow. ever the wings of the summer are folded under the mold; life that has known no dying, is love's, to have and to hold, till, sudden, the burgeoning easter! the song! the green and the gold![ ] --margaret e. sangster. in tracing the shade, i shall find out the sun. --owen meredith. all chastening seemeth for the present to be not joyous but grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto them that have been exercised thereby, even the fruit of righteousness. --hebrews . . almighty god, grant that as the fulfillment of the green comes to the withered grass, so thy restoring may come to me with the glory of life that comes in the resurrection of the soul. i trust thee to bring me out of winter's seal, that i may help make the spring. amen. [footnote : from easter bells. copyright, , by harper & brothers.] april thirtieth chevalier de bayard killed . sir john lubbock born . james montgomery died . david livingstone died . we scatter seeds with careless hands, and dream we ne'er shall see them more; but for a thousand years their fruit appears in weeds that mar the land. --john keble and there came up a sweet perfume from the unseen flowers below, like the savor of virtuous deeds, of deeds done long ago. --mrs. southey. mary therefore took a pound of ointment of pure nard, very precious, and anointed the feet of jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odor of the ointment. --john . . my father, i pray that it may be mine to have the recollection of happy deeds, and not the memory of unkept promises. help me to remember that one act is worth a thousand intentions, and that memory is the storehouse that supplies old age. make me careful of my memory, that it may not be burdened. amen. may i cannot see what flowers are at my feet, nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, but, in the embalmed darkness, guess each sweet wherewith the seasonable month endows the grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild; white hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; fast-fading violets covered up in leaves; and mid-may's wildest child, the coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. --john keats. such a starved bank of moss till that may morn, blue ran the flash across: violets were born. --robert browning. may first arbor day. joseph addison born . arthur, duke of wellington, born . if you wish to succeed in life, make perseverance your bosom friend, experience your wise counselor, caution your elder brother, and hope your guardian genius. --joseph addison. he who plants a tree, he plants love; tents of coolness spreading out above wayfarers, he may not live to see. gifts that grow are best; hands that bless are blest; plant-life does the rest! heaven and earth help him who plants a tree, and his work his own reward shall be. --lucy larcom. and he shall be like a tree planted by the streams of water, that bringeth forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also doth not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. --psalm . . my creator, give me joyful eyes for joyful nature. may i be alive to the gentle influences of a may day which bring new experiences to all who may receive them: and may i serve thee by unfolding to others the love of truth, the love of good, and the love of beauty. amen. may second leonardo da vinci died . robert hall born . jerome k. jerome born . william henry hudson born . without a false humility; for this is love's nobility,-- not to scatter bread and gold, goods and raiment bought and sold; but to hold fast his simple sense, and speak the speech of innocence, and with hand and body and blood, to make his bosom-counsel good. he that feeds man serveth few; he serves all who dares be true. --ralph waldo emerson. small service is true service while it lasts: of humblest friends scorn not one: the daisy, by the shadow it casts, protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun. --william wordsworth. surely then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot; yea, thou shalt be steadfast, and shalt not fear. --job . . heavenly father, i would be thankful for the blessings i am inclined to forget. give me a heart of gratitude, and forbid that i should hold my friends for material gain or selfish ends. may i through the truthfulness of my lips, and the honor of my acts, be a necessary friend. amen. may third niccolo machiavelli born . thomas hood died . jacob riis born . the longing for ignoble things; the strife for triumph more than truth; the hardening of the heart that brings irreverence for the dreams of youth; all these must first be trampled down beneath our feet, if we would gain in the bright fields of fair renown the right of eminent domain. --john keble. one lesson, and only one, history may be said to repeat with distinctness; that the world is built somehow on moral foundations; that in the long run, it is well with the good; in the long run it is ill with the wicked. --james anthony froude. no soldier on service entangleth himself in the affairs of this life; that he may please him who enrolled him as a soldier. and if also a man contend in the games, he is not crowned, except he have contended lawfully. -- timothy . , . gracious father, may my heart be mindful of thee, that i may discover the truth and possess it. steady me in my affections and save me from wandering impulses; and may i help to put wrong down and uplift humanity. amen. may fourth frederick edwin church born . isaac barrow died . john james audubon born . horace mann born . thomas henry huxley born . the chess board is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules of the game we call the laws of nature. my metaphor will remind some of you of the famous picture in which retzsch has depicted satan playing chess with man for his soul. substitute for the mocking fiend in that picture a calm, strong angel, who is playing "for love," as we say, and would rather lose than win, and i should accept it as an image of human life. --thomas henry huxley. riches and nobility fade together. o, my god! be thou praised for having made love for all time, and immortal as thyself. --george sand. he hath given food unto them that fear him: he will ever be mindful of his covenant. the works of his hands are truth and justice; all his precepts are sure. --psalm . , . father of life, i know i cannot hold youth. i may have prosperity or poverty. i thank thee that thou hast taught me that love may be kept changeless through all. amen. may fifth napoleon bonaparte died . empress eugenie born . bret harte died . as i stand by the cross, on the lone mountain's crest, looking over the ultimate sea, in the gloom of the mountain a ship lies at rest, and one sails away from the lea; one spreads its white wings on the far-reaching track, with pennant and sheet flowing free; one hides in the shadow with sails laid aback-- the ship that is waiting for me. but lo! in the distance the clouds break away, the gate's glowing portals i see, and i hear from the outgoing ship in the bay the song of the sailors in glee. so i think of the luminous footprints that bore the comfort o'er dark galilee, and wait for the signal to go to the shore to the ship that is waiting for me. --bret harte. yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. --psalm . . eternal god, i praise thee, that "thy love is broader than the measure of man's mind," and that through all my years i may hide myself in thee, trusting thee to the end. amen. may sixth plato born b.c. . robespierre born . general andrea messena born . hard ye may be in the tumult, red to your battle hilts; blow give blow in the foray, cunningly ride in the tilts. but tenderly, unbeguiled-- turn to a woman a woman's heart, and a child's to a child. test of the man if his worth be in accord with the ultimate plan that he be not, to his marring, always and utterly man. that he may bring out of the tumult, fetter and undefiled, to woman the heart of a woman-- to children the heart of a child.[ ] --o. henry. a man's concern is only whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong--acting the part of a good man or a bad. --plato. a faithful man shall abound with blessings. --proverbs . . almighty god, i pray that i may seek sincerely those whom i approach with sympathy, and by my honor may they feel the same sincerity for me. amen. [footnote : special permission cosmopolitan magazine, new york.] may seventh correggio born . robert browning born . johannes brahms born . lord rosebery (archibald primrose) born . so, take and use thy work: amend what flaws may lurk, what strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim! my times be in thy hand! perfect the cup as planned! let age approve of youth, and death complete the same! --robert browning. no matter how often defeated, you are born to victory. the reward of a thing well done is to have done it. --ralph waldo emerson. when i hear a young man spoken of as giving promise of high genius, the first question i ask about him is always--does he work? --john ruskin. ye therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly father is perfect. --matthew . . o god, i pray that thou wilt search me, and in the silent moments show me myself without obstruction. breathe upon me thy awakening breath, that i may be revived to nobler activities. amen. may eighth rev. william jay born . françois mignet born . louis gottschalk born . john stuart mill died . a profound conviction raises a man above the feeling of ridicule. --john stuart mill. a garden is a lonesome thing, god wot! rose plot, fringed pool, ferned grot-- the veriest school of peace; and yet the fool contends that god is not-- not god! in the gardens! when the eve is cool? nay but i have a sign; 'tis very sure god walks in mine. --thomas e. brown. jehovah bless thee, and keep thee: jehovah make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. --numbers . , , . my father, may this be a day of usefulness. make me sure of myself, that i may not spend my days in questioning, but accept with gratefulness thy love and tender care. make me worthy to be called thy child. amen. may ninth john brown (ossawattomie) born . johann schiller died . j.m. barrie born . have love! not love alone for one, but man as man thy brother call: and scatter like the circling sun thy charities on all. --johann schiller. he spoke, and words more soft than rain brought the age of gold again: his action won such reverence sweet, as hid all measure of the feat. --ralph waldo emerson. that their hearts might be comforted, they being knit together in love. --colossians . . gracious lord, i pray that i may not only be known to those who are my own, but may i consider all mankind. may those who need me find me through my gentleness, and may they be assured by quiet confidence and faith. amen. may tenth rouget de l'isle born . jared sparks born . james bryce born . sir henry stanley died . for four months and four days i lived with david livingstone in the same house, or in the same boat, or in the same tent, and i never found a fault in him. i am a man of quick temper, and often without sufficient cause, i dare say, have broken the ties of friendship; but with livingstone i never had cause for resentment, but each day's life with him added to my admiration for him. --sir henry stanley. in speech right gentle, yet so wise: princely of mien, yet softly mannered; modest, deferent, and tender-hearted, though of a fearless blood. --edwin arnold. ye are the light of the world. a city set on a hill cannot be hid. --matthew . . almighty god, help me to aspire, that my life may tend toward the ideal. may i be persuaded that i cannot be that which i do not possess, nor can i live in that which i do not know. help me to put the best in what i do, that i may not feel i have failed, even though it may not seem to be a success. amen. may eleventh baron münchhausen born . william pitt, earl of chatham, died . jean léon gérôme born . and methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two; and the world has room for love, and death, and thunder and dew; and all the sinews of hell slumber in the summer air; and the face of god is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair. beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain; and out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain. --robert louis stevenson. it is more shameful to be distrustful of our friends than to be deceived by them. --la rochefoucauld. thou shalt rejoice in all the good which jehovah thy god hath given unto thee. --deuteronomy . . lord god, may i comprehend the sacredness of friendship. i thank thee for my friends, and for all the beautiful influences which they bring to my life. may i never hold friendship without the sincerity to return it. correct my faults, and cause me to learn the secret of cheerful endurance, that i may be steadfast. amen. may twelfth robert fielding died . james sheridan knowles born . dante gabriel rossetti born . jules massenet born . look in my face; my name is might-have-been; i am also called no-more, too-late, farewell; unto thine ear i hold the dead sea-shell cast up thy life's foam-fretted feet between; unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen which had life's form and love's, but by my spell is now a shaken shadow intolerable, of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen. --dante gabriel rossetti. let me not pass my work at morn and then at eve, find for what purpose i was born-- just as i leave. --m.b.s. we must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work. --john . . lord god, i do earnestly pray that thou wilt give me strength to break away, if i may be trying to free myself from habits that mar my character. may i not lose courage and fall back in the old ways, but by faith be led where i should go. amen. may thirteenth carolus linnæus (karl von linné) born . alphonse daudet born . sir arthur sullivan born . i heard a voice in the darkness singing (that was a valiant soul i knew), and the joy of his song was a wild bird winging swift to his mate through a sky of blue. and his song was of love and all its bringing and of certain day when the night was through; i raised my eyes where the hope was springing, and i think in his heaven god smiled too (that was a valiant soul i knew). --j. stalker. the soul aids the body, and at certain moments raises it. it is the only bird which bears upward its own cage. --victor hugo. but desire earnestly the greater gifts. -- corinthians . . gracious lord, i rejoice that thou dost know the depths of my soul, and that i may call upon thee to supply its needs. make me worthy that i may not be kept from the springs of joy where my soul may be refreshed, and where i may gather hope and encouragement for the greater loves of life. amen. may fourteenth john dutton born . gabriel d. fahrenheit born . robert owen born . henry grattan died . they that wander at will where the works of the lord are revealed, little guess what joy can be got from a cowslip out of the field. --alfred tennyson. move onward serenely, cast aside regret, cleanse and purify life, only be undismayed and hopeful, as you turn page after page of the revelation of god. --arthur c. benson. thou wilt show me the path of life: in thy presence is fullness of joy; in thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. --psalm . . my father, i thank thee that nature reveals thy power as she unfolds her beauty and wonder to the searching eye. guide me that i may see in the little flower the smile of welcome, the look of kindness, and the beauty of hope which it renders to all; and may i learn from it thy protection in the smallest things of life. amen. may fifteenth ephraim chambers died . florence nightingale born . michael w. balfe born . edmund keane died . daniel o'connell died . light human nature is too lightly lost and ruffled without cause, complaining on, restless with rest, until being overthrown, it learneth to lie quiet. --elizabeth barrett browning. was the trial sore? temptation sharp? thank god a second time! why comes temptation but for a man to meet and master and make crouch beneath his foot, and so be pedestaled in triumph? pray "lead us into no such temptations, lord!" yea, but, o thou whose servants are the bold, lead such temptations by the head and hair, reluctant dragons, up to who dares fight that so he may do battle and have praise. --robert browning. therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things that were heard, lest haply we drift away from them. --hebrews . . almighty god, if i am overwhelmed by the tides of temptation and discouragement, let me not drift away to sea, but anchor and take harbor in thee. may i not be afraid to trust in thy protection, but calmly wait and watch for thy deliverance. amen. may sixteenth sir william patty born . honore de balzac born . william h. seward born . felicia hemans died . favored of heaven! o genius! are they thine, when round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine; while rapture gazes on thy radiant way, 'midst the bright realms of clear mental day? no! sacred joys! 'tis yours to dwell enshrined, most fondly cherished, in the purest mind. --felicia hemans. genius is intensity. --honore balzac. but what if i fail of my purpose here? it is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and, baffled, get up and begin again-- so the chase takes up one's life, that's all. --robert browning. be urgent in season, out of season. -- timothy . . my lord, my life makes me conscious of weakness, and my memory brings regret; forgive me for the lost strength i neglected to develop. in thy compassion encourage me to be more watchful of my power, that i may usefully increase it, and not willfully deplete it. may i learn the need of constancy in well-doing. amen. may seventeenth heloise died . matthew parker died . edwin jenner born . the weakest among us has a gift, however seemingly trivial, which is peculiar to him, and which worthily used, will be a gift to his race forever. --john ruskin. not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come from god who is our home. --william wordsworth. a weak mind sinks under prosperity as well as under adversity. a strong and deep mind has two highest tides--when the moon is at full, and when there is no moon. --julius hare. thou hast granted me life and lovingkindness; and thy visitation hath preserved my spirit. --job . . almighty god, i pray that i may have a true appreciation of the quality of life. reveal to me my responsibilities and help me to make them my opportunities. keep me in search of thoughts and deeds that will increase the delight of my soul. amen. may eighteenth francis mahony (father prout) died . mrs. johnson (stella) born . john wilson (christopher north) born . longing is god's fresh heavenward will, with our poor earthly striving; we quench it, that we may be still content with merely living. but would we learn that heart's full scope which we are hourly wronging, our lives must climb from hope to hope, and realize our longing. --james russell lowell. pretexts are not wanted when one wishes a thing. --goldoni. friendship is for all aid and comfort through all the relations of life and death--for serene days and graceful gifts and country rambles; but also for rough roads, and hard fare, shipwreck, poverty, and persecution. --ralph waldo emerson. strive to enter in by the narrow door. --luke . . eternal god, i pray that thou wilt graciously restore my spirits if i may have settled into despondency over my disappointments. may i have the will to rise above them, and patiently strive for renewed hope. amen. may nineteenth james boswell died . johann gottlieb fichte born . william e. gladstone died . tired! well, what of that? didst fancy life was spent on beds of ease, fluttering the rose-leaves scattered by the breeze? come! rouse thee, work while it is called to-day! coward, arise--go forth upon the way! lonely! and what of that? some one must be lonely; 'tis not given to all to feel a heart responsive rise and fall, to blend another life into its own; work may be done in loneliness; work on. dark! well, what of that? didst fondly dream the sun would never set? dost fear to lose thy way? take courage yet, learn thou to walk by faith and not by sight, thy steps will be guided, and guided right. --unknown. and let us not be weary in well-doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. --galatians . . my father, if thou wert far off i could not reach thee in time, for i falter so much and need thee so often. i pray that thou wilt keep so near that i can feel thy love and strength breathing within me. amen. may twentieth elizabeth g. fry born . john stuart mill born . alfred domett born . rudolf h. lotze born . marquis de lafayette died . nature has written a letter of credit upon some men's faces which is honored wherever presented. you cannot help trusting such men; their very presence gives confidence. there is a "promise to pay" in their faces which gives confidence, and you prefer it to another man's indorsement. character is credit. --william m. thackeray. henry drummond has told us how in the heart of africa he came across men and women who remembered the only white man they ever saw before--david livingstone; and as you cross his footsteps in the dark continent men's faces light up as they speak of the kind doctor who passed there years ago. they could not understand him; but they felt the love that beat in his heart. who is wise and understanding among you? let him show by his good life his works in meekness of wisdom. --james . . my lord, inspire me with kind words and thoughtful deeds, that i may share the yearnings and sympathy of others. may my life show that i am dependable, and may none be left lonely to-day because of my forgetfulness. amen. may twenty-first albrecht dürer born . fernando de soto died . alexander pope born . self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake as the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; the center moved, a circle straight succeeds, another still, and still another spreads; friend, parent, neighbor, first it will embrace, its country next, and next, the human race. --alexander pope. a gentleman is one who understands and shows every mark of deference to the claim of self-love in others, and exacts it in return from them. --william hazlitt. but he knoweth the way that i take; when he hath tried me, i shall come forth as gold. my foot hath held fast to his steps; his way have i kept, and turned not aside. --job . . lord god, teach me how secret actions make or destroy my life. show me the deep lines made by sorrow and discontent that cannot be effaced. may i look toward the corrections of life and not on my imperfections, that my life may be a helpful influence. amen. may twenty-second newman hall born . wilhelm richard wagner born . maria edgeworth died . victor hugo died . who cares for the burden, the night, and the rain, and the long, steep, lonesome road, when at last through the darkness a light shines plain, when a voice calls "hail," and a friend draws rein, with an arm for the stubborn load? for life is the chance of a friend or two this side of the journey's goal. though the world be a desert the long night through, yet the gay flowers bloom and the sky shows blue when a soul salutes a soul. --unknown. in all misfortune the greatest consolation is a sympathizing friend. --cervantes. they help every one his neighbor; and every one saith to his brother, be of good courage. --isaiah . . loving father, may i lay hold upon the highest standards of friendship and so be qualified to be a friend. may those who call and lean on me feel secure in my support. may none ever be ashamed to call me friend. grant that those whom i love may keep faith with me. amen. may twenty-third thomas hood born . margaret fuller ossoli born . henrik ibsen died . dr. john campbell died . chance cannot touch me! time cannot hush me! fear, hope, and longing, at strife; sink as i rise, on, on, upward forever, gathering strength, gaining breath-- naught can sever me from the spirit of life. --margaret fuller. but evil is wrought by want of thought, as well as want of heart. --thomas hood. for i reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward. --romans . . heavenly father, cause the newness of life to continue to flow through my heart, that i may not be fatigued, as i struggle with discouragements. release me from hopeless cares that i have made mine, thinking they were thine. may i trust in the boundless limit of thy mercy, and rejoice in the world of living light. amen. may twenty-fourth jean paul marat born . stephen girard born . sir robert adair born . queen victoria born . caroline fox born . i see my way as birds their trackless way. i shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, i ask not: but unless god send his hail or blinding fireballs, sleet, or stifling snow, in some time, his good time, i shall arrive: he guides me and the bird. --robert browning. to live in the presence of great truths and eternal laws--that is what keeps a man patient when the world ignores him, and calm and unspoiled when the world praises him. --honore balzac. but whoso putteth his trust in jehovah shall be safe. --proverbs . . lord jehovah, all goodness, tenderness, and forbearance that are in my life have come from thee. may i not lose them in self, but by them make possible happiness and endurance for others. amen. may twenty-fifth ralph waldo emerson born . edward bulwer-lytton (george) born . dr. william paley died . william henry channing born . hast thou named all the birds without a gun? loved the wild rose, and left it on the stalk? at rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? unarmed faced danger with a heart of trust? and loved so well a high behavior, in man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, nobility more noble to repay? o, be my friend and teach me to be thine! --ralph waldo emerson. what the superior man seeks is in himself; what the small man seeks is in others. --confucius. make no friendship with a man that is given to anger; and with a wrathful man thou shalt not go. --proverbs . . lord god, may i live for the pure and upright, and have the blessedness of a rejoicing heart. may i yearn for the secrets of nature. grant that my life may not seek destruction, but tenderly find and protect life. amen. may twenty-sixth the venerable bede died . count nicolas ludwig zinzendorf born . capel lofft died . let us disengage ourselves from care about the passing things of time; let us soar above our worldly possessions. the bee does not less need its wings when it has gathered an abundant store, for if it sink in the honey, it dies. --saint augustine. perhaps if we could penetrate nature's secrets, we should find that what we call needs are more essential to the well-being of the world than the most precious grain or fruit. --nathaniel hawthorne. we trust the lord in faith serene, a ladder he hath given; the lower rounds in earth are seen, the higher reach to heaven. --thomas brevior. is not the life more than the food, and the body than the raiment? --matthew . . almighty god, i bless thee for the privilege of a great life. may i not be satisfied to rest with idle hands in youth and make age regretful because i have lived a useless life: but with a clear eye and an exalted mind may i choose the "durable satisfactions" that may be mine. amen. may twenty-seventh alighieri dante born . john calvin died . julia ward howe born . noah webster died . john kendrick bangs born . to your judgments give ye not the reins with too much eagerness, like him who ere the corn be ripe, is fain to count the grains: for i have seen the briar through the winter snows look sharp and stiff--yet on a future day high on its summit bear the tender rose: and ship i've seen, that through the storm hath passed, securely bounding o'er the watery way, at entrance of the harbor wrecked at last. --dante, translated by wright. in the beauty of the lilies christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: as he died to make men holy, let us die to make them free, while god is marching on. --julia ward howe. trust in jehovah with all thy heart, and lean not upon thine own understanding. --proverbs . . lord god, help me to know my ability, that i may not attempt with weakness that which requires strength to undertake; and make me stable that i may not relax vigilance even though victory seems assured. amen. may twenty-eighth william pitt born . thomas moore born . louis agassiz born . the bird let loose in eastern skies, when hastening fondly home, ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies where idle warblers roam; but high she shoots through air and light, above all low delay, where nothing earthly bounds her flight, nor shadow dims her way. --thomas moore. remember, the essence of religion is, a heart void of offense toward god and man; not subtle speculative opinions, but an active principle of faith. --william pitt. and hope putteth not to shame; because the love of god hath been shed abroad in our hearts. --romans . . god of mercy, reveal to me the hallowed life. may i be reminded that, while i may save and keep the dust from things that perish, my life, though unkept and undeveloped, tells in itself the value and need of the most watchful care. amen. may twenty-ninth patrick henry born . joseph fouche born . josephine died . gerald massey born . is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? forbid it, almighty god. i know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death. --patrick henry. though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes with smiling features glisten; for lo! our day bursts up the skies, lean out your souls and listen! the world is following freedom's way, and ripening with her sorrow; take heart! who bears the cross to-day shall wear the crown to-morrow. --gerald massey. for god gave us not a spirit of fearfulness; but of power and love and discipline. -- timothy . . lord god, may i never feel that i have a right to sell thy joys, nor the privilege of giving away my burdens. grant that i may not forsake my principles, but may i keep the way clear that memory may find an unruffled rest. amen. may thirtieth decoration day. joan d'arc burned at rouen . alexander pope died . voltaire died . alfred austin born . here is the nation god has builded by our hands. what shall we do with it? who stands ready to act again and always in the spirit of this day of reunion and hope and patriotic fervor? the day of our country's life has but broadened into morning. do not put uniforms by. put the harness of the present on. lift your eyes to the great tracts of life yet to be conquered in the interest of righteous peace, of that prosperity which lies in a people's hearts and outlasts all wars and errors of men. --woodrow wilson. cover them over with beautiful flowers: deck them with garlands these brothers of ours; lying so silent, by night and by day, sleeping the years of their manhood away; * * * * * give them the laurels they lost with their life. --will carleton. greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. --john . . my father, as i pause this day to think of the brave men and women who have given their lives for the sake of others, may i be thankful for them. may i remember that noble deeds and kind words are never lost, but that self may block the way to justice. o father, make war to cease! and lead us to victories that are won through peace. amen. may thirty-first ludwig tieck born . joseph haydn died . walt whitman born . passage, immediate passage! the blood burns in my veins! away, o soul! hoist instantly the anchor! out the hawser--haul out--shake out every sail! have we not stood here like trees in the ground long enough? have we not groveled here long enough eating and drinking like mere brutes? have we not darkened and dazed ourselves with books long enough? sail forth--steer for the deep waters only, reckless, o soul, exploring, i with thee, and thou with me, for we are bound where mariner has not dared to go, and we will risk the ship, ourselves and all. --walt whitman. be strong and of good courage, fear not, nor be affrighted at them: for jehovah thy god, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. --deuteronomy . . my father, give me joyful courage to squarely face my life. help me to know that i cannot vanquish life by evading duties, nor encircling myself with indulgences. if i may be blind to my situation, restore my sight that i may make ready a worthy passage with thee. amen. june there lives a glory in these sweet june days such as i found not in the days gone by, a kindlier meaning in the unclouded sky, a tenderer whisper in the woodland ways; and i have understanding of the lays, the birds are singing, forasmuch as i have learned how love avails to satisfy a man's whole heart, and fills his lips with praise. --percy c. ainsworth june first nicolas poussin born . sir christopher marlowe died . sir david wilkie died . hugo münsterberg born . in every act of ours, in every feeling and every volition and every thought, we are conscious of a self which expresses its aims and meanings. every idea of ours points beyond itself, every volition binds us in decision, and every experience gets meaning by our attitudes. the most immediate task which life demands from us in the understanding of ourselves and of others is, therefore, to interpret our ideas, to draw the consequences of our will, to appreciate the attitudes, to measure them by higher standards. --hugo münsterberg. and god said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness. --genesis . . my creator, i pray that i may not only have the desire to know life, but the assurance to live it. help me to understand that my earthly possessions are not the measure of my life, nor my body the boundary of my living. may i reach for the high standards that are free, without limit, to all. amen. june second ethelbert baptized . john randolph born . thomas hardy born . in battle or business, whatever the game, in law or in love, it is ever the same: in the struggle for power, or scramble for pelf, let this be your motto: "rely on yourself." --john g. saxe. labor is necessary to excellence. this is an eternal truth, although vanity cannot be taught to believe or indolence to heed it. --john randolph. but let each man prove his own work, and then shall he have his glorying in regard of himself alone, and not of his neighbor. --galatians . . almighty god, i regret the hours of indiscretion and waste; through thy forgiveness may i have thy help over past wrongs. may i have a deeper conception of a profitable life, that i may hereafter live by it. amen. june third sydney smith born . dr. john gregory born . richard cobden born . jefferson davis born . norman macleod born . certainly, let the board be spread and let the bed be dressed for the traveler; but let not the emphasis of hospitality lie in these things. honor to the house where they are simple to the verge of hardship, so that there the intellect is awake and reads the law of the universe, the soul worships truth and love, honor and courtesy flow into all deeds. --ralph waldo emerson. kind actions, and good wishes, and pure thoughts no mystery is here: here is no boon for high--yet not for low: the smoke ascends to heaven as lightly from the cottage hearth as from the haughtiest palace. --william wordsworth. given to hospitality. --romans . . gracious father, i beseech thee to give me wisdom for kind thoughts and deeds. teach me true hospitality, that i may be gracious in my own home and appreciative in the home of others. may i not temper my hospitality for certain reasons, but have a genuine welcome for all. amen. june fourth george iii born . lord edward fitzgerald died . general garnet wolseley born . this is the gospel of labor--ring it, ye bells of the kirk-- the lord of love came down from above to live with the men who work. this is the rose he planted, here in the thorn-cursed soil; heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of earth is toil. --henry van dyke no man is born into the world whose work is not born with him. there is always work and tools to work withal, for those who will; and blessed are the horny hands of toil. --james russell lowell. six days thou shalt do thy work, and on the seventh day thou shalt rest. --exodus . . my father, i pray for the love of work, and the desire to cultivate life. stir me, that i may be ambitious. may i not stare at life in an everyday way and forget that others are watching for the surprises. help me to be considerate and kind in all that i do. amen. june fifth socrates born b.c. . dr. adam smith born . karl maria von weber died . o. henry died . you think that upon the score of foreknowledge and divining i am infinitely inferior to the swans. when they perceive approaching death they sing more merrily than before, because of the joy they have in going to the god they serve. --socrates. o yet we trust that somehow good will be the final goal of ill, to pangs of nature, sins of will, defects of doubt, and taints of blood; that nothing walks with aimless feet; that not one life shall be destroyed, or cast as rubbish to the void, when god hath made the pile complete. --alfred tennyson. how precious is thy lovingkindness, o god! and the children of men take refuge under the shadow of thy wings. --psalm . . eternal god, forbid that i should try to set up thy judgment-seat in so small a place as self, and attempt to render decisions for thee. my soul lives anew as i think of thy love, and that there is no place where thy mercy can be withheld from me. amen. june sixth diego r. velasquez born . pierre corneille born . nathan hale born . sir john stainer born . these stones that make the meadow brooklet murmur are the keys on which it plays. o'er every shelving rock its touch grows firmer, resounding notes to raise. if every path o'er which footsteps wander, were smooth as ocean strand, there were no theme for gratitude and wonder at god's delivering hand. --w. e. winks. we also rejoice in our tribulations: knowing that tribulation worketh steadfastness; and steadfastness, approvedness; and approvedness, hope. --romans . , . my father, if rain may come to-day, may i realize its help, with the power of the sun, to increase life; and may its influence be sweet and wholesome to me, as i learn that sadness is temporary and will disappear with the coming of gladness. may i go search for the joy that may be mine to-day. amen. june seventh robert bruce died . george bryan (beau brummel) born . rev. w.d. conybeare born . when the lamp is shattered the light in the dust lies dead-- when the cloud is scattered the rainbow's glory is shed. when the lute is broken sweet tones are remembered not; when the lips have spoken loved accents are soon forgot. --percy bysshe shelley. a slip of the rose may take root, and bring forth a bloom to give peace to the soul. a slip of the tongue may take root, and bring forth a thorn that will torture the soul. --m.b.s. abide in me, and i in you. as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; so neither can ye, except ye abide in me. --john . . many of us, o father, overlook the fragrance of the rose while we are being pierced by its thorn. increase my faith in life and in thee, that i may not be dismayed over mysteries, but sincerely wait for deliverance. amen. june eighth mohammed died . thomas rickman born . charles reade born . john everett millais born . if one touch of nature makes the whole world kin, methinks that sweet and wonderful thing sympathy is not less powerful. what golden barriers, what ice of centuries, it can melt in a moment! --charles reade. if i had two loaves of bread, i would sell one to buy white hyacinths to feed my soul. --mohammed. what do you live for if it is not to make life less difficult for each other? --george eliot. pure religion and undefiled before our god and father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world. --james . . my father, help me to understand that kind hearts and willing hands are made possible by the depth and greatness of thy love. may i possess the spirit of forgiveness and consideration, that i may not hold prejudice and revenge, but help with sympathy and tenderness. amen. june ninth george stephenson born . john howard payne born . richard d. blackmore born . charles dickens died . reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many; not upon your past misfortunes, of which all have some. --charles dickens. 'mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! a charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, which, sought through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. home! home! sweet, sweet home! there's no place like home! --john howard payne. for thou shalt forget thy misery; thou shalt remember it as waters that are passed away. --job . . lord god, my soul fills with gratitude for the blessings which i have received and enjoyed. help me to conform to thy will concerning my duties. may i not try to resist thy providence. i pray that thou wilt bless my daily life, and make my home a place to dispense kindness and cheerfulness. amen. june tenth sir edwin arnold born . henry m. stanley born . edward everett hale died . robert schumann born . what have you done with your soul, my friend? where is the ray you were wont to send, glancing bright through the outer night, touching with hope what was dark before, glimmering on to the further shore? --arthur c. benson. god suffers the light to know eclipse, dashes the cup from the eager lips; you perchance would have drunk too deep. --arthur c. benson. lift where you stand. --edward everett hale. a friend is the first person who comes in when the whole world has gone out. --unknown. who comforteth us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort them that are in any affliction, through the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of god. -- corinthians . . almighty god, help me to correct my mistakes, and to be more careful of what i take in my life. may i always stretch out a hand of love to inspire others with confidence to care more for themselves and more for thee. amen. june eleventh roger bacon died . george wither born . john constable born . exceeding gifts from god are not blessings, they are duties. they do not always increase a man's happiness; they always increase his responsibilities. --charles kingsley. make a rule and pray for help to keep it. once a day spare room for a thought that will pursue a strong purpose. help in some way the progress of a weary soul who cannot repay you. --m. b. s. there is no true potency, remember, but that of help; nor true ambition, but ambition to save. --john ruskin. and if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul: then shall thy light rise in darkness, and thine obscurity be as the noon day. --isaiah . . heavenly father, when i think of how little i have given away my heart burns with shame, as i recall what thou hast given to me. may i from this day be more thoughtful of thy tender compassion by being less selfish with what i have. amen. june twelfth harriet martineau born . charles kingsley born . dr. thomas arnold (arnold of rugby) died . sir oliver lodge born . do to-day's duty, fight to-day's temptation, and do not weaken and distract yourself by looking-forward to things which you cannot see, and could not understand if you saw them. --charles kingsley. genuine religion has its roots deep down in the heart of humanity.... the actions of the deity make no appeal to any special sense. we are deaf and blind, therefore, to the imminent grandeur around us unless we have insight enough to appreciate the whole and to recognize the woven fabric of existence flowing steadily from the loom of an infinite progress toward perfection. --sir oliver lodge. every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the father of lights, with whom can be no variation, neither shadow that is cast by turning. --james . . gracious father, forbid that i should make thee regret thy gifts to me; and if i have failed to appreciate them, look upon me with pity, for i have cheated myself more than i have thee. give me a deeper appreciation, that i may be strengthened day by day in the veriest duties of life. amen. june thirteenth dr. thomas young born . general winfield scott born . dr. thomas arnold (arnold of rugby) born . william butler yeats born . beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the attachment we form to noble souls, because to become one with the good, generous, and true is to become, in a measure, good, generous, and true ourselves. --thomas arnold. open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, and let in manhood--let in happiness; admit the boundless theater of thought from nothing up to god ... which makes a man. --thomas young. two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him that is alone when he falleth, and hath not another to lift him up. --ecclesiastes . , . heavenly father, i thank thee for good friends, and for the delight that dwells in fellowship. give me the power to apprehend love, and guard me against the ways to lose it. may i look to my friends to help me to be pure, and to help me live my truest life. amen. june fourteenth carlo guidi born . harriet beecher stowe born . mary carpenter died . when you get into a tight place, and everything goes against you till it seems as if you couldn't hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that's just the time and place that the tide will turn. --harriet beecher stowe. i cannot do it alone, the waves run fast and high, and the fogs close chill around, and the light goes out in the sky; but i know that we two shall win in the end-- god and i. --unknown. let us hold fast the confession of our hope that it waver not. --hebrews . . almighty god, i pray that thou wilt sustain me when i may be enduring for a purpose, and to accomplish it seems beyond my strength. renew me with courage, and give me unceasing hope, and faith that is able to hold out to the end. amen. june fifteenth thomas randolph born . edward grieg born . thomas campbell died . what is rightly done stays with us, to support another right beyond, or higher up; whatever is wrongly done vanishes; and by the blank, betrays what we would have built above. --john ruskin. the seed ye sow another reaps, the wealth ye find another keeps, the robe ye weave another wears, the arms ye forge another bears. --percy bysshe shelley. thou drewest near in the day that i called upon thee; thou saidst, fear not. o lord, thou hast pleaded the causes of my soul; thou hast redeemed my life. --lamentations . , . lord god, reveal to me my selfishness if i am receiving much and giving little to satisfy life. may i be grateful and considerate of all those who labor to give me comfort and happiness. amen. june sixteenth hugh capet succeeds to throne of father . sir richard fanshawe died . sir john cheke born . when to the sessions of sweet, solemn thought i summon up remembrance of things past, i sigh the lack of many a thing i sought. but if the while i think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end. --william shakespeare. seldom can the heart be lonely if it seek a lonelier still-- self-forgetting, seeking only emptier cups of love to fill. --f. r. havergal. the lord jehovah hath given me the tongue of them that are taught, that i may know how to sustain with words him that is weary. --isaiah . . gracious father, keep within me that cheer and courage which never has a place for weary murmurings; and with peace make the hours of solitude profitable as they pass. help me to seek those who are in need of sympathy and encouragement, that i may help them to have a tranquil life. amen. june seventeenth joseph addison died . charles françois gounod born . sir e. c. burne-jones died . he who plants a tree plants a hope. rootlets up through fibers blindly grope, leaves unfold unto horizons free. so man's life must climb from the clods of time unto heavens sublime. canst thou prophesy, thou little tree, what the glory of the boughs shall be? --lucy larcom. very early, i perceived that the object of life is to grow. --margaret fuller. many a genius has been slow of growth. oaks that flourish for a thousand years do not spring up into beauty like a reed. --george henry lewes. and jesus advanced in wisdom and stature, and in favor with god and men. --luke . . almighty god, thy power is so great i cannot express it; help me to comprehend the meaning of it, that i may feel more profoundly thy expectations of my life. may i remember that to forget that life is eternal may make me to lose all it has grown. amen. june eighteenth robert stewart born . battle of waterloo . william cobbett died . not he the threatening texts who deals is highest 'mong the preachers, but he who feels the woes and weals of all god's wandering creatures. he doth good work whose heart can find the spirit 'neath the letter; who makes his kind of happier mind, leaves wiser men and better. dear bard and brother! let who may against thy faults be railing, (though far, i pray, from us be they that never had a failing!) --james russell lowell. avenge not yourselves, beloved, but give place unto the wrath of god: for it is written, vengeance belongeth unto me; i will recompense, saith the lord. --romans . . heavenly father, i pray that i may not be so occupied in expressing my judgment of others, that i will forget to live in thy judgment myself. may i have the compassion for others that i hope to receive from thee. amen. june nineteenth magna charta signed, runnymede, . blaise pascal born . charles h. spurgeon born . find your niche and fill it. if it is ever so little, if it is only a hewer of wood or a drawer of water, do something in the great battle for god and truth. --charles spurgeon. if i do what i may in earnest, i need not mourn if i work no great work on earth. to help the growth of a thought that struggles toward the light; to brush with gentle hand the stain from the white of one snowdrop--such be my ambition. --george macdonald. jehovah thy god will bless thee in all thy work, and in all that thou puttest thy hand unto. --deuteronomy . . lord god, i pray that i may not through conceit be betrayed into slacking my work, or through visions of greatness lose it. teach me how to obtain the secret wealth in the smallest thing; and may i recognize thy treasures, and fill my life with the finest that may be given me. amen. june twentieth john of lancaster born . dr. adam ferguson born . anna letitia aiken (mrs. barbauld) born . if the soft hand of winning pleasure leads by living waters, and through flowery meads, where all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, oh! teach me to elude each latent snare, and whisper to my sliding heart, "beware!" with caution let me hear the syren's voice, and doubtful, with a trembling heart rejoice. if friendless in a vale of tears i stray, where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way, still let my steady soul thy goodness see, and, with a strong confidence, lay hold on thee. --anna letitia barbauld. for thou, o god, hast proved us: thou hast tried us, as silver is tried. --psalm . . o lord, teach me to select my pleasures with care, that i may not plunge into joyful moments that are irretrievable. may i indulge in the pleasures that bring happiness and not weariness. grant that i may have the honor to protect others from harm and loss, as i engage in my pleasures and in my work. amen. june twenty-first captain john smith died . anthony collins born . jacques offenbach born . in our eagerness to solve life we start out to trace its mysteries and trample god's truths as we search. as we return we discover the shattered treasures, and gladly stoop to gather up the fragments, and with them translate the revelations of the soul. --m.b.s. i stretch my hands out in the empty air; i strain my eyes into the heavy night; blackness of darkness!--father, hear my prayer; grant me to see the light! --george arnold. but when he came to himself he said, how many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and i perish here with hunger! i will arise and go to my father. --luke . , . heavenly father, i pray that as i search for the truth i will not be so eager to seek thy mysteries as i am to extend thy ministries. grant that by thy love i will be guided in comprehending and exalting thy kingdom. may my service bring me wisdom as i obey thy laws. amen. june twenty-second matthew henry died . karl wilhelm von humboldt born . h. rider haggard born . the safe and general antidote against sorrow is employment. sorrow is a kind of rust in the soul, which every new idea contributes in its passage to scour away. --dr. johnson. we may be sure that one principle will hold throughout the whole pursuit of thoughtful happiness--the principle that the best way to secure future happiness is to be as happy as is rightfully possible to-day. to secure any desirable capacity for the future, near or remote, cultivate it to-day. what would be the use of immortality for a person who cannot use well half an hour? asks emerson. --charles w. eliot. strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. say to them that are of a fearful heart, be strong, fear not. --isaiah . , . loving father, help me that i may realize the depth of thy love. if i may be discouraged over my failures, speak to me hopefully and lead me out where i may find the right way to succeed. may i not be kept in sorrow, but find each day the happiness that brings a thankful heart. amen. june twenty-third mark akenside died . john fill born . josephine born could we by a wish have what we will and get the future now, would we wish aught done undone in the past? so, let him wait god's instant men call years; meantime hold hard by truth and his great soul, do out the duty! through such souls alone god stooping shows sufficient of his light for us i' the dark to rise by. and i rise. --robert browning. press not thy purpose on thy lord, urge not thy erring will, nor dictate to the eternal mind nor doubt thy maker's skill. --lydia h. sigourney. cause me to hear thy loving-kindness in the morning; for in thee do i trust: cause me to know the way wherein i should walk; for i lift up my soul unto thee. --psalm . . my father, help me to see that in my portion of work thou hast entrusted me to help further thy kingdom. correct me if i am wrong in interpreting thy way. may i concentrate my mind and make my heart and hands do the work which thou hast given for me to do. amen. june twenty-fourth jean baptiste massillon born . alexandre dumas born . henry ward beecher born . general lord kitchener born . all the world cries, "where is the man who will save us?" don't look so far for this man, you have him at hand. this man--it is you, it is i, it is each one of us! how to constitute oneself a man? nothing harder if one knows not how to will it; nothing easier if one wills it. --alexandre dumas. many of our troubles are god dragging us, and they would end if we would stand upon our feet and go whither he would have us. --henry ward beecher. ye shall therefore keep my statutes, and mine ordinances; which if a man do, he shall live in them. --leviticus . . gracious lord, i pray that i may have reverence for that which is pure and holy, and that my soul may delight in the presence of the good. help me to so live that i may have the memory of precious deeds, and that i may not have to depend on the service of others to supply contentment for my closing days. amen. june twenty-fifth william smellie died . antoine jean gros died . lucy webb hayes died . in every feast remember there are two guests to be entertained--the body and the soul; and what you give the body you presently lose, but what you give the soul remains forever. --epictetus. we take pains and weary to faultlessly clothe the body. we persevere, and often struggle, to adorn the mind. as we pass through the rays of truth, sometimes we find, after all we have put on, we have left bare the soul. --m.b.s. for what shall a man be profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and forfeit his life? --matthew . . lord god, help me to understand that thou hast made the principle of truth so that i cannot add to it, nor take from it, lest in altering it i might destroy it. may i never try to make my purpose cover the truth, but without fear, face the light where truth shines the brightest. amen. june twenty-sixth archbishop robert leighton died . dr. philip doddridge born . george morland born . why are we so glad to talk and take our turns to prattle, when so rarely we get back to the stronghold of our silence with an unwounded conscience? --thomas a kempis. i have read that those who listened to lord chatham felt that there was something finer in the man than anything which he said. --ralph waldo emerson. speech is like the cloth of arras opened and put abroad, whereby the imagery doth appear in figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. --plutarch. keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. --psalm . . tender father, make me more watchful of the time that i give to useless thoughts and words, and save me from cutting words, which make deeper impressions than can be cut with sharp tools. forgive me for the hours that have not been profitable; i would i had them back, for my heart and mind have need of them. amen. june twenty-seventh paul laurence dunbar born . lafcadio hearne born . helen keller born . of course, it was not easy at first to fly. the speech wings were weak and broken; nothing was left save the impulse to fly, but that was something. one can never consent to creep when one has an impulse to soar. there are so many difficulties in the way, so many discouragements; but i kept on trying, knowing that perseverance and patience win in the end. --helen keller. de da'kest hour, dey allus say, is des' befo' de dawn, but it's moughty ha'd a-waitin' were de night goes frownin' on; an' it's moughty ha'd a-hopin' when de clouds is big and black, an' all de t'ings you's waited fu' has failed, er gone to wrack-- but des' keep on a joggin' ind a little bit o song. de moon is allus brightah w'en de night's been long. --paul laurence dunbar. weeping may tarry for the night, but joy cometh in the morning. --psalm . . my father, i thank thee for life and its faculties. may i not be deceived by gratification and miss the permanent satisfactions. make me brave that i may be courageous in affliction, and not be dismayed over humiliations and disappointments. may i be kept in harmony with thy will. amen. june twenty-eighth henry viii born . jean jacques rousseau born . john wesley born . frederick william faber born . workman of god! o lose not heart, but learn what god is like; and in the darkest battlefield thou shalt know where to strike. for right is right, since god is god; and right the day must win; to doubt would be disloyalty, to falter would be sin. --f. w. faber. leisure and i have parted company. i look upon the world as my parish. the best of all is, god is with us. to overdo is to undo. --john wesley. but be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only. --james . . lord god, i pray for a desire to work. may i not be deceived in my convictions, and work for that of which i may afterward be ashamed. lead me into a clear conception of right and wrong. help me to see as thou dost see, that i may walk with confidence in thy steps. amen. june twenty-ninth paul rubens born . baron john de kalb born . elizabeth barrett browning died . do ye hear the children weeping, o my brothers, ere the sorrow comes with years? they are leaning their young heads against their mothers, and they cannot stop their tears. the young lambs are bleating in the meadows; the young birds are chirping in the nests; the young fawns are playing with the shadows; the young flowers are blowing toward the west: but the young, young children, o my brothers! they are weeping bitterly. they are weeping in the playtime of the others, in the country of the free. --elizabeth b. browning. moreover thou hast taken thy sons and thy daughters, whom thou hast borne unto me, and these hast thou sacrificed unto them to be devoured. --ezekiel . . father of all, i pray that i may always love children. may i never forget that i wanted things and needed things when i was a child, and that the help and neglect which i received then told in my life. make me interested in the purposes that will help the progress of the child to-day, and may i realize that the child does not need my casual charity as much as it needs my permanent justice. amen. june thirtieth alexander brome died . archibald campbell beheaded . sir thomas pope blount died . be useful where thou livest, that they may both want and wish thy pleasing presence still; kindness, good parts, great places are the way to compass this. find out men's wants and will, and meet them there. all worldly joys go less to the one joy of doing kindnesses. --george herbert. thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, far from the clamorous world, doth live his own; though solitary, who is not alone, but doth converse with that eternal love --william drummond. seek, and ye shall find. --matthew . . my father, help me to draw from the wisdom of life, that my soul may grow in knowledge and power. may i have the quiet confidence that comes in trusting thee. may i help others to think on the uplifting things of life. amen. july then came hot july, boiling like to fire, that all his garments he had cast away; upon a lion raging yet with ire he boldly rode, and made him to obey. --edmund spenser. a pleasing land of drowsyhead it was, of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; and of gay castles in the clouds that pass, for ever flushing round a summer sky. --james thomson. july first comte de rochambeau born . gideon welles born . george frederick watts died . there is no unbelief! whoever plants a seed beneath a sod, and waits to see it push away the clod, he trusts in god. there is no unbelief! and day by day, and night, unconsciously, the heart lives by that faith the lips deny-- god knoweth why. --bulwer lytton. more and more i see that nothing is so necessary for the religious condition of the mind as absolute simplicity. we know what we have got to do, and the only thing is to ask ourselves whether we are doing it as well as we can. --george frederick watts. being therefore justified by faith, we have peace with god. --romans . . my creator, i praise thee for the knowledge of life, and the hope of immortality. help me to express my belief, and to give my utmost for the divinest, that i may be worthy of life eternal. amen. july second archbishop cranmer born . christopher w. gluck born . richard henry stoddard born . sir robert peel died . one step more, and the race is ended; one word more, and the lesson's done; one toil more, and a long rest follows at set of sun. who would fail, for one step withholden? who would fail, for one word unsaid? who would fail, for a pause too early? sound sleep the dead. --christina g. rossetti. one who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake. --robert browning. he that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved. --matthew . . my father, thou hast proven the strength of thy promises by thy tender love and mercy through the darkest hours. help me always to cling to the hope that thou hast provided for my soul. may i be trustful, and be thankful to "see so much as one side of a celestial idea, one side of the rainbow, and the sunset sky." amen. july third john s. copley born . henry grattan born . eugene sue died . not from the dangers that beset our path from storm or sudden death, or pain or wrath, we pray deliverance; but from the envious eye, the narrowed mind of those that are the vultures of mankind thy aid advance. not at the strong man's righteous rage or hate, but at the ambushed malice laid in wait thy strength arise; at those who ever seek to spot the fair white garments of a neighbor's character with mud of lies. --theodosia p. garrison.[ ] putting away therefore all wickedness, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings. -- peter . . my lord, may i remember that to protect the character of others is to add virtue to my own. grant that i may see the good and not be looking for the evil. cause me to know that peace will not abide in deceit or revenge, but may be found in a happy and charitable spirit. help me to earn thy peace. amen. [footnote : special permission by mitchell kennerly, new york.] july fourth independence day. colonel william byrd died . nathaniel hawthorne born . thomas jefferson died . by the rude bridge that arched the flood, their flag to april's breeze unfurled, here once the embattled farmers stood, and fired the shot heard round the world. --ralph waldo emerson. then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, and this be our motto, "in god is our trust"; and the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! --francis scott key. seek not to keep your soul perpetually in the unwholesome region of remorse. it was needful to pass through that dark valley, but it is infinitely dangerous to linger there too long. --nathaniel hawthorne. and this city shall be to me for a name of joy, for a praise and for a glory, before all the nations of the earth, which shall hear all the good that i do unto them. --jeremiah . . lord of justice and peace, may i not pause at the marked stones of the brave to learn of liberty, but may i look for the opportunities that i may measure up to because of them, and do my part to keep the peace and spread the blessings of our land. amen. july fifth mrs. sarah siddons born . david g. farragut born . george sand born . cecil rhodes born . nature alone can speak to our intelligence an imperishable language, never changing, because it remains within the bounds of eternal truth and of what is absolutely noble and beautiful. --george sand. say, dost thou understand the whispered token, the promise breathed from every leaf and flower? and dost thou hear the word ere it be spoken, and apprehend love's presence by its power? --unknown. but ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee; and the birds of the heavens, and they shall tell thee: or speak to the earth, and it shall teach thee; and the fishes of the sea shall declare unto thee. who knoweth not in all these, that the hand of jehovah hath wrought this? --job . - . lord god, direct me away from self, that i may learn of thy wisdom, and help further thy kingdom. give me patience to search for thy truths, that i may obtain the noblest to use for thy service. amen. july sixth john huss burned at constance, baden, . baron wilhelm leibnitz born . john paul jones born . john flaxman born . no man likes to acknowledge that he has made a mistake in the choice of his profession, and every man worthy of the name will row long against wind and tide before he allows himself to cry out, "i'm baffled!" and submit to be floated passively back to land. --charlotte brontë. there is nothing so small but that we honor god by asking his guidance of it, or insult him by taking it into our hands. --john ruskin. if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. --psalm . , . my father, i pray that i may have wise judgment and use discretion in the choice of my work. may i remember that only that is genuine which is received and used for thee. amen. july seventh alexis, son of peter the great, died in prison . thomas blacklock died . richard brinsley sheridan died . the surest way not to fail is to determine to succeed. --richard b. sheridan. i felt my hot blood a-tingling flow; with thrill of the fight my soul did glow; and when, braced and pure, i emerged secure from the strife that had tried my courage so, i said, "let heaven send me sun or rain, i'll never know flinching fear again." --thomas crawford. for the lord jehovah will help me; therefore have i not been confounded: therefore have i set my face like a flint, and i know that i shall not be put to shame. --isaiah . . lord jehovah, help me to learn how to be strong and brave, that i may not remain in fear and weakness. help me to conquer unworthiness, and to overcome discouragements, that i may be spared the needless battles that are brought on through impatience and selfishness. keep my soul in repose, that i may add to my conquering strength. amen. july eighth jean de la fontaine born . dr. samuel d. gross born . joseph chamberlain born . neither gold nor grandeur can render us happy. --la fontaine. spirit of god! descend upon my heart; wean it from earth; through all its pulses move; stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art, and make me love thee as i ought to love. i ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies, no sudden rending of the veil of clay: no angel visitant, no opening skies-- but take the dimness of my soul away. --george croly. for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. --luke . . eternal god, help me to honor my life; and may i realize, whether i select good or bad, much or little, the harvesting is for eternity. grant that i may not make my life accumulate gold and grandeur, and laden it with much spending; but may i strive and love what thou dost love, and make my life worthy of my labor. amen. july ninth henry hallam born . edmund burke died . elias howe born . discretion of speech is more than eloquence; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words or in good order. --francis bacon. when anyone provokes you, be assured it is your opinion which provokes you. try therefore, in the first place, not to be hurried away with appearance. for if you once gain time and respite, you will more easily command yourself. --epictetus. let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer each one. --colossians . . my father, help me to learn through kindness and tenderness the value of self-control. help me in the moods of jealousy and impatience, that i may not cause others unhappiness by words or deeds. teach me how to overcome the ways that keep me discontented, that i may have a brighter speech. amen. july tenth john calvin born . sir william blackstone born . frederick marryat born . the quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. it is twice blessed; it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown; * * * * * it is enthroned in the hearts of kings; it is an attribute to god himself. --william shakespeare. his gain is loss; for he that wrongs his friend wrongs himself more, and ever has about a silent court and jury, and himself the prisoner at the bar, ever condemned. --alfred tennyson. brethren, even if a man be overtaken in any trespass, ye who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to thyself, lest thou also be tempted. --galatians . . my father, help me to avoid the critical spirit that leans toward injustice. grant that none may be made despondent waiting for my mercy; but through forgiveness may i inspire confidence in those who have made mistakes, and influence them to a better life. amen. july eleventh robert de bruce born . jean marmontel born . john quincy adams, massachusetts, sixth president united states, born . susan warner (e. wetherell) born . a friend to chide me when i'm wrong, my inmost soul to see: and that my friendship prove as strong for him as his for me. --john quincy adams. our chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do what we can: this is the service of a friend. --ralph waldo emerson. it is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools. for as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool. --ecclesiastes . , . my father and friend, who calleth me to check the progress of the wrong, make me submissive and eager for what is right, that i may learn and uphold to others thy purposes and desires. amen. july twelfth caius julius cæsar born b.c. . josiah wedgwood born . alexander hamilton killed . henry david thoreau born . clara louise kellogg born . each reaching and aspiration is an instinct with which all nature consists and cooperates, and therefore it is not in vain. if a man believes and expects great things of himself it makes no odds where you put him, he will be surrounded by grandeur. --henry david thoreau. if you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost--that is where they should be: now put foundations under them. --henry david thoreau. he is like a man building a house, who digged and went deep, and laid a foundation upon the rock: and when a flood arose, the stream brake against that house, and could not shake it: because it had been well builded. --luke . . lord of strength, i pray that while i may lay a strong foundation for my life, i may remember that i should not delay the building by neglecting to complete the plans. may i look to-day and see if i am making my words stronger than my life. with thy wisdom help me to realize that the test of life is made with the soul. amen. july thirteenth richard cromwell died . elijah fenton died . jean paul marat killed by charlotte corday . let each day take thought for what concerns it, liquidate its own affairs, and respect the day which is to follow, and then it shall be ready. --amiel. what does your anxiety do? it does not empty to-morrow, brother, of its sorrow; but ah! it empties to-day of its strength. it does not make you escape the evil; it makes you unfit to cope with it if it comes. --ian maclaren. be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. --matthew . . my father, save me from the habit of borrowing. so often i borrow trouble and cannot use it, when the peace that i possess is all that i need. help me, that i may not miss the glory of to-day, by anticipating the uncertainty of to-morrow; but may i discern my place and have delight in every day. amen. july fourteenth bastille destroyed . jane baillie welch carlyle born . owen wister born . sail fast, sail fast, ark of my hopes, ark of my dreams; sweep lordly o'er the drowned past, fly glittering through the sun's strange beams; sail fast, sail fast. breath of new buds from off some drying lea, with news about the future scent the sea; my brain is beating like the heart of haste. i'll loose me a bird upon this present waste; go, trembling song, and stay not long; o, stay not long; thou art only a gray and sober dove, but thine eye is faith and thy wing is love. --sidney lanier. god speed thee, pretty bird; may thy small nest, with little ones all in good time be blest. i love thee much; for well thou managest that life of thine, well i!--o ask not what i do with mine! would i were such! --jane welch carlyle. behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly father feedeth them. are not ye of much more value than they? --matthew . . my father, may i start this day with more faith in myself and greater love for thy world. may my soul be awakened to the highest and be ready for the joys of to-day. amen. july fifteenth inigo jones born . rembrandt born . henry edward manning born . william winter born . his was the heart that overmuch in human goodness puts its trust, and his the keen, satiric touch that shrivels falsehood into dust. fierce for the right, he bore his part in strife with many a valiant foe; but laughter winged his polished dart, and kindness tempered every blow. --william winter. a wise man will so act that whatever he does may rather seem voluntary and of his own free will than done by compulsion, however much he may be compelled by necessity. --machiavelli. wherefore i saw that there is nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring him back to see what shall be after him? --ecclesiastes . . lord god, may i not forget that it is in the light, and not the darkness, that my work is revealed. i beseech thee to pour in thy light as i plan my life, and open my heart and mind for the reception of thy truth. amen. july sixteenth andrea del sarto born . sir joshua reynolds born . margaret fuller ossoli perished at sea . reverence the highest, have patience with the lowest. let this day's performance of the meanest duty be thy religion. are the stars too distant? pick up the pebble that lies at thy feet and from it learn all. --margaret fuller. the situation that has not its duty, its ideal, was never yet occupied by man. yet, here is this miserable, despicable actual, wherein thou standest--here or nowhere is thy ideal! work it out therefrom! --thomas carlyle. and whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, verily i say unto you he shall in no wise lose his reward. --matthew . . great god, may i begin this day bearing in mind that the things which i think and do are my life. i pray that thou wilt keep me from making great efforts for that which is valueless, and thus waste my life. may i watch my pride and indolence that they may not cause me to lose the best. amen. july seventeenth dr. isaac watts born . charlotte corday guillotined . paul delaroche born . j.a. mcneil whistler died . so frail is the youth and beauty of men, though they bloom and look gay like the rose; but all our fond cares to preserve them is vain, time kills them as fast as he goes. then i'll not be proud of my youth nor my beauty, since both of them wither and fade; but gain a good name by well doing my duty; for this will scent like the rose when i'm dead. --isaac watts. onward, onward may we press through the path of duty; virtue is true happiness, excellence true beauty; minds are of supernal birth, let us make a heaven of earth. --james montgomery. all things therefore whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them. --matthew . . my lord and my strength, i pray that i may possess that expectancy which comes in joyous hope and have the endurance that is controlled by courage and energy. grant in the future that i may be less concerned about my living and more anxious for what i make of my life. amen. july eighteenth william makepeace thackeray born . jane austen died . jean antoine watteau died . learn to admire rightly: the great pleasure of life is that. note what great men admired; they admired great things; narrow spirits admire basely and worship meanly. --w.m. thackeray. our thoughts are often more than we are, just as they are often better than we are. and god sees us as we are altogether, and not in separate feelings or actions, as our fellow men see us. we are always doing each other injustice, and thinking better or worse of each other than we deserve, because we only hear separate feelings or actions. we don't see each other's whole nature. --george eliot. the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. --isaiah . . eternal god, may i become more like thee. give me the desire to associate myself with people and places where the divine spirit is supreme. may my soul breathe in the influence of all that is good and true; and may i use my life for thy honor and praise. amen. july nineteenth john martin born . samuel colt born . charles victor cherbuliez born . in love, if love be love, if love be ours, faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers: unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. it is the little rift within the lute that by and by will make the music mute, and ever widening slowly silence all. the little rift within the lover's lute, or little pitted speck in garner'd fruit, that rotting inward slowly molders all. it is not worth the keeping: let it go: but shall it? answer, darling, answer no. and trust me not at all or all in all. --alfred tennyson. take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom. --song of solomon . . loving father, help me to put away the distractions and cares that make me discontented. grant that i may not set myself in "gilded pride" and keep out the precious things of life. help me to abandon doubt and suspicion, and keep the faith that is happy to believe and willing to forgive. amen. july twentieth petrarch born . thomas lovell beddoes born . john sterling born . jean ingelow died . let thy day be to the night a letter of good tidings! let thy praise go up as birds go up--that when they awake, shake off the dew and soar. --jean ingelow. i, and the bird, and the wind together, sang a supplication in the winter weather. the bird sang for sunshine, and the trees for winter fruit, and for love in the spring time when the thickets shoot. and i sang for patience when the teardrops start; clean hands and clear eyes, and a faithful heart. --arthur c. benson. unto thee, o jehovah, do i lift up my soul. --psalm . . lord god, if i am discouraged this morning, may i pause for thine encouragement. grant that the fear of the night may make no decline in my morn, but that "into the future i may fuse the past," and use what is clearest for to-day. amen. july twenty-first matthew pryor born . william lord russell beheaded . robert burns died . our heaven must be within ourselves, our home and heaven the work of faith and thro' this race of life which shelves downward to death. while over all a dome must spread, and love shall be that dome above; and deep foundations must be laid, and these are love. --christina rossetti. if happiness has not her seat and center in the breast, we may be wise or rich or great, but never can be blest. --robert burns. keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life. --proverbs . my father, if i choose to be unhappy and miserable, may i not be to myself and friends as "a harp with one string." help me to free myself from thinking and anticipating things that keep me from the pleasure that i might receive and give. may i have more trust in my friends and in thee. amen. july twenty-second sir john graham killed . pilgrims started for america . earl of shaftesbury (anthony ashley cooper) born . how comes it to pass, then, that we appear such cowards in reasoning, and are so afraid to stand the test of ridicule? --earl of shaftesbury. he that of such a height hath built his mind, and reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong, as neither fear nor hope can shake the frame of his resolved powers; nor all the wind of vanity or malice pierce to wrong his settled peace, or to disturb the same: what a fair seat hath he, from whence he may the boundless wastes and wilds of man survey? --samuel daniel. thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee. --isaiah . . o lord, it is not that i am ashamed to ask thee for the truth that i do not more diligently seek it, but it is because i fear the sacrifice that may follow in obtaining it. i would that i could understand that thy strength is given in the sacrifice. make me braver as i seek to live in the truth. amen. july twenty-third richard gibson died . charlotte cushman born . coventry patmore born . i do not ask, o lord, that life may be a pleasant road; i do not ask that thou would'st take from me aught of its load. for one thing only, lord, dear lord, i plead: lead me aright-- though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed-- through peace to light. --adelaide a. procter. o, why and whither?--god knows all, i only know that he is good, and that whatever may befall or here or there, must be the best that could. --john g. whittier. lead me, o jehovah, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies; make thy way straight before my face. --psalm . . loving father, may i never fail to ask for thy guidance, for thou hast promised to lead me to the cool springs while i pass through the desert places. help me to put myself in thy keeping and say, "thy will be done." amen. july twenty-fourth rev. john newton born . john p. curran born . j.g. holland born . as the winged arrow flies speedily the mark to find; as the lightning from the skies darts and leaves no trace behind; swiftly thus our fleeting days bear us down life's rapid stream; upward, lord, our spirits raise; all below is but a dream. --john newton. o gentlemen! the time is short; to spend that shortness basely were too long, if life did ride upon a dial's point, still ending at the arrival of an hour. --william shakespeare. jehovah, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; let me know how frail i am. --psalm . . lord, forbid that i should overcast my life with intentions, and neglect to put in the deeds. may i not be satisfied to spend my days in being merely occupied, but live to learn and work. may i not be dismayed over what i might have been, but with all my might do what i can now. amen. july twenty-fifth thomas à kempis died . simon bolivar born . arthur james balfour born . blessed indeed are those ears which listen not after the voice which is sounding without, but after the truth teaching within. --thomas à kempis. how joyed my heart in the rich melodies that overhead and round me did arise! the moving leaves--the water's gentle flow-- delicious music hung on every bough. then said i in my heart, "if that the lord such lively music on the earth accord; if to weak, sinful man such sounds are given, o! what must be the melody of heaven!" --izaak walton. but thou, o jehovah, knowest me; thou seest me, and triest my heart toward thee. --jeremiah . . loving father, thou hast made it needful for me to know that the songs which are sung by divine love are rarely heard by cruel hearts. grant that my soul may chord with the sweetest music that vibrates in the beauty and harmony of life. amen. july twenty-sixth charles emmanuel died . john wilmot died . george clinton born . quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm. --robert l. stevenson. i have learned, as days have passed me, fretting never lifts the load; and worry, much or little, never smooths an irksome road; for do you know that somehow, always, doors are opened, ways are made; when we work and live in patience under all the cross that's laid. --unknown. but whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell securely, and shall be quiet without fear of evil. --proverbs . . merciful and just god, i pray that i may regulate my life by thy standards and conform my life to thy laws, that thy goodness and mercy may not be wasted on me. help me to bear in mind, that willingness is the power that starts the hands to work. may i have thy presence while i wait in quietness, that i may be helped through the anxious moments. amen. july twenty-seventh thomas campbell born . alexandre dumas-fils born . dr. john dalton died . what's hallowed ground? 'tis what gives birth to sacred thoughts in souls of worth!-- peace! independence! truth! go forth earth's compass round; and your high-priesthood shall make earth all hallowed ground. --thomas campbell. remember the week day to keep it holy. --elbert hubbard. the meaning of life comes to us mostly in great revealing flashes and intense emotions. --dean farrar. to the pure all things are pure. --titus . . gracious father, may i not feel that it is necessary to wait for certain days and ceremonies to prepare to worship thee, while at every moment thy love is pleading for me. may i through the busiest hours and the most perplexing moments serve thee in reverence and obedience, and ever give praise to thy holy name. amen. july twenty-eighth john sebastian bach died . robespierre executed . jean baptiste corot born . o light that followest all my way, i yield my flickering torch to thee; my heart restores its borrowed ray, that in thy sunshine's blaze its day may brighter, fairer be. --george matheson. follow your star that lights a desert pathway, yours or mine, forward, till you learn the highest human nature is divine. follow light and do the right--for man can half control his doom-- till you see the deathless angel seated in the vacant tomb. --alfred tennyson. my soul waiteth for the lord, more than watchmen wait for the morning; yea, more than watchmen for the morning. --psalm . . almighty god, help me to kindle my life by the shining light of thy power and love, that i may be an ambassador for thee. amen. july twenty-ninth andrew marvell died . william wilberforce died . dr. thomas dick died . i wrestle not with rage while fury's flame doth burn; it is vain to stop the stream until the tide doth turn. but when the flame is out and ebbing wrath doth end i turn a late enraged foe into a quiet friend. --robert southwell. if i can lend a strong hand to the fallen, or defend the right against a single envious strain, my life though bare perhaps of much that seemeth dear and fair to us on earth, will not have been in vain. --unknown. a friend loveth at all times; and a brother is born for adversity. --proverbs . . gracious father of us all, if i may have cause to be provoked to-day, help me to rise above my angry passions, and not from weakness plunge into that for which i may be sorry. make me self-forgetful, that i may be willing to make peace with those whom i may have displeased. amen. july thirtieth samuel rogers born . thomas gray died . w.t. adams (oliver optic) born . prince bismarck died . sit down, sad soul, and count the moments flying; come, tell the sweet amount that's lost by sighing! how many smiles?--a score? then laugh, and count no more; for day is dying. lie down sad soul, and sleep, and no more measure the flight of time, nor weep the loss of leisure; but here by this lone stream, lie down with us, and dream of starry treasure. bryan waller procter. the only thing grief has taught me is to know how shallow it is. grief will not carry you one step into real nature; grief can teach me nothing. --ralph waldo emerson. leave off, ye simple ones, and live; and walk in the way of understanding. --proverbs . . god of love, may i come quickly to thee, when i am in need of protection and sympathy. guard me against sorrow that is drawn from the imagination. may i not allow grief to drag me into misery, but with strength and courage may i find happiness in thy daily will. amen. july thirty-first john conybeare died . john ericsson born . paul b. du chaillu born . phoebe cary died . be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer; next day the fatal precedent will plead; thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life. procrastination is the thief of time; year after year it steals, till all are fled, and to the mercies of a moment leaves the vast concerns of an eternal scene. --dr. edward young. o, my friend, rise up and follow where the hand of god shall lead; he has brought thee through affliction, but to fit thee for his need. --mary howitt. for he is our god, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. to-day, o that ye would hear his voice! harden not your heart. --psalm . , . lord god, i come to thee for help, that i may make more of my life. steady me, that i may know its value without wavering, and the loss it sustains from wasted days. i pray that i may live more in thy commandments, and with my work accept the joy of thy love. amen. august flame-like, the long midday, with not so much of sweet air as hath stirred the down upon the spray, where nests the panting bird, dozing away the hot and tedious noon, with fitful twitter, sadly out of tune. pleasantly comest thou, dew of the evening, to the crisped-up grass; and the curled corn-blades bow, as the light breezes pass, that their parched lips may feel thee, and expand, thou sweet reviver of the fevered land. so, to the thirsting soul, cometh the dew of the almighty's love; and the scathed heart, made whole, turneth in joy above, to where the spirit freely may expand, and rove, untrammeled, in that "better land." --william d. gallagher. august first andrew melville born . richard henry dana, jr., born . maria mitchell born . am i wrong to be always so happy? this world is full of grief; yet there is laughter of sunshine, to see the crisp green on the leaf, daylight is ringing with song-birds, and brooklets are crooning at night; and why should i make a shadow when god makes all so bright? earth may be wicked and weary, yet cannot i help being glad! there is sunshine without and within me, and how should i mope or be sad? god would not flood me with blessings, meaning me only to pine amid all the bounties and beauties he pours upon me and mine; therefore i will be grateful, and therefore will i rejoice; my heart is singing within me; sing on, o heart and voice. --walter c. smith. rejoice always. -- thessalonians . . gracious father, my soul floods with joy for the blessings of life. may it be my privilege to be happy in them. help me not to ask thee for anything which will cause loss to another; may i not delight in a lonely view, but as i see thy glory bring others to the vision also. amen. august second thomas gainsborough died . elisha gray born . marion crawford born . william watson born . the holy supper is kept, indeed, in whatso we share with another's need; not what we give, but what we share, for the gift without the giver is bare; who gives himself with his alms feeds three, himself, his hungering neighbor, and me. --james russell lowell. and when o'er storm and jar i climb, beyond life's atmosphere, i shall behold the lord of time and space--of world and year. o vain, far quest! not thus my heart shall ever find its goal! i turn me home--and there thou art, my father, in my soul. --george macdonald. that they should seek god, if haply they might feel after him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us; for in him we live, and move, and have our being. --acts . , . o lord, my gracious father, may i not be so eager for more, that i feel i have nothing to spare. help me to realize that if i may be on the mountain-top, or at the level of the sea, thy spirit may dwell in my soul. may i rejoice that i can always receive and share thy grace and love. amen. august third john henley born . henry cuyler bunner born . eugene sue died . set out in the very morning of your lives with a frank and manly determination to look simply for what is right and true in all things.... this is the only way to know god's will and do it. you may not find it at once, but you have set your face in the true direction to find it. --jeremy taylor. the important thing in life is to have a great aim, and to possess the aptitude and perseverance to attain it. --goethe. blessed are they that keep his testimonies, that seek him with the whole heart. --psalm . . lord god, forbid that i should lose the opportunities of making my life by waiting for sudden developments. cause me to notice that the tree that bears fruit must first grow the blossom before it may be perfected by the sun: whether thou hast made me greater or less, may i be ashamed to live in untruth and wait in idleness. amen. august fourth percy bysshe shelley born . edward irving born . walter h. pater born . we look before and after, and pine for what is not; our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught; our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. yet if we could scorn hate and pride and fear, if we were things born not to shed a tear, i know not how thy joy we ever could come near. --percy bysshe shelley. it becomes no man to nurse despair, but in the teeth of clenched antagonisms to follow up the worthiest till he die. --alfred tennyson. he suffered no man to do them wrong; yea, he reproved kings for their sakes. -- chronicles . . my father, i bless thee for thy patience and forbearance. i pray that thou wilt forgive me for all the sorrow that i have made from rebellion and despair, and with thy forgiveness may i receive patience and cheerful courage. amen. august fifth john eliot born . john, lord wrottesley, born . richard lord howe died . to live within a cave--it is most good; but if god made a day, and some one come, and say, "lo! i have gathered faggots in the wood!" e'en let him stay, and light a fire, and fan a temporal mood! so sit till morning! when the light is grown that he the path can read, then bid the man godspeed! his morning is not thine: yet must thou own those ashes on the stone. they have a cheerful warmth. --thomas edward brown. it is given to us sometimes, even in our everyday life, to witness the saving influence of a noble nature, the divine efficacy of rescue that may lie in a self-subduing act of fellowship. --george eliot. and the king shall answer and say unto them, verily i say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it unto one of these my brethren, even these least, ye did it unto me. --matthew . . father of mankind, may i not be a barrier to the discouraged, but help them in the ways of encouragement. may i not allow pride and prejudice to keep me from acts of love and deeds of kindness, but may i be worthy of thy trust. amen. august sixth ben jonson died . françois fénelon born . daniel o'connell born . alfred, lord tennyson, born . o well for him whose will is strong! he suffers, but he will not suffer long; he suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong; for him nor moves the loud world's random mock, not all calamity's hugest waves confound, who seems a promontory rock, that compassed round with turbulent sound, in middle ocean meets the surging shock, tempest-buffeted, citadel-crowned. --alfred tennyson. grandeur of character lies in force of soul--that is, in the force of thought, moral principle, and love; and this may be found in the humblest condition of life. --william ellery channing. so then, brethren, stand fast. -- thessalonians . . eternal god, help me that i may not be deceived by my surroundings as i seek to have life abundantly. instruct me that it is by the way of character that i must attain the laws of growth, and learn reverence for the spirit of divine life. amen. august seventh battle of thermopylae b.c. . frederick william (dean) farrar born . alexander m. bell died . although a friend may remain faithful in misfortune, yet none but the very best and loftiest will remain faithful to us after our errors and our sins. --dean farrar. friendship is like a debt of honor: the moment it is talked of it loses its real name, and assumes the more ungrateful form of obligation. from hence we find that those who regularly undertake to cultivate friendship find ingratitude generally repays their endeavors. --oliver goldsmith. for even in their wickedness shall my prayer continue. --psalm . . lord god, may i ever continue to be thankful for the times thou hast helped me, when i have asked for thy compassion; may i recall the joy in which i received it, when it may be mine to have compassion and extend a helping hand to others. i pray that i may place my life where it will be stronger than adversity and controlled by sincerity and love. amen. august eighth charles a. dana born . laurence hutton born . cecile chaminade born . lo! all the glory gone! god's masterpiece undone! the last created and the first to fall; the noblest, frailest, godliest of all. child of the humble sod, wed with the breath of god, descend! for with the lowest thou must lie-- arise! thou hast inherited the sky. --john b. tabb. far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations; i cannot reach them, but i can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead. --louisa m. alcott. i will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: from whence shall my help come? --psalm . . heavenly father, may i see as i raise my eyes to the mountains that without the deep shadows there would be no vision of the high-light, and still higher may i see that without the sun there would be no color to encircle the rainbow. and beyond, o father, may i believe that without the shadow of the cross we could not have the glory of the resurrection. may i keep the vision clear. amen. august ninth izaak walton born . john dryden born . francis scott key born . joseph jacques tissot died . all habits gather, by unseen degrees, brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas. --john dryden. now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, in full glory reflected now shines on the stream; 'tis the star-spangled banner; o yet may it wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! --francis scott key. do not be troubled because you have not great virtues. god made a million spears of grass where he made one tree.... only have enough of little virtues and common fidelities, and you need not mourn because you are neither a hero nor a saint. --henry ward beecher. the reward of humility and the fear of jehovah is riches, and honor, and life. --proverbs . . lord god, who keepest truth to generations, and who through love and wisdom hath gathered us into nations, forgive me for what i have done that is wrong, and for what i have neglected that was right. may i give greater loyalty to my country and to thee. amen. august tenth founding of greenwich observatory . sir charles napier born . george park fisher born . no one can ask honestly or hopefully to be delivered from temptation unless he has himself honestly and firmly determined to do the best he can to keep out of it. --john ruskin. men at some time are masters of their fates: the fault, dear brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. --william shakespeare. the greatest punishment one can have is to discover, not how hard, but how low he has fallen. --m.b.s. o timothy, guard that which is committed unto thee, turning away from the profane babblings and oppositions of the knowledge which is falsely so-called. -- timothy . . almighty god, through thy mercies may i recognize my faults, and correct any evil that is in me. make me strong, that i may not yield to temptation. may i have regard for thy will and be prepared to take thy messages as they are flashed to the soul. amen. august eleventh jean victor moreau born . octave feuillet born . signer crispi died . heaven overreaches you and me, and all earth's gardens and her graves. look up with me, until we see the day break and the shadows flee. what though to-night wrecks you and me if so to-morrow saves? --christina g. rossetti. the essence of joy lies in the doing rather than in the result of the doing. there is a lifelong and solid satisfaction in any productive labor, manual or mental, which is not pushed beyond the limit of strength. --charles w. eliot. show me thy ways, o jehovah; teach me thy paths. guide me in thy truths, and teach me. --psalm . , . my father, keep me where my eyes may look expectantly toward the dawn, through the darkness. take away everything that comes between me and the brightness of the morning. amen. august twelfth robert southey born . francis horner born . edith thomas born . katherine lee bates born . our restlessness in this world seems to indicate that we are intended for a better. we have all of us a longing after happiness; and surely the creator will gratify all the natural desires he has implanted in us. --robert southey. whenso my quick, light-sandaled feet bring me where joys and pleasures meet, i mingle with their throng at will; they know me not an alien still, since neither words nor ways unsweet of stored bitterness i spill; youth shuns me not nor gladness fears, for i go softly all my years. --edith thomas. he hath swallowed up death forever; and the lord jehovah will wipe away tears from off all faces. --isaiah . . loving father, help me to guard my inclinations. may i be able to appreciate that though i may be restless from ambition, i also may be restless through discontent. correct my life, that my desires may meet the true demands of my soul. strengthen me with the power of calmness, that "i may go softly all my years," even though i walk through the bitterness of sorrow. amen. august thirteenth jeremy taylor died . dr. william wotton born . elizabeth stuart phelps ward born . elizabeth prentiss died . sir john millais died . feeling the way--and all the way up hill; but on the open summit, calm and still, the feet of christ are planted; and they stand in view of all the quiet land. feeling the way--and if the way is cold, what matter? since upon the fields of gold his breath is melting; and the warm winds sing while rocking summer days for him. --elizabeth s. phelps. all the performances of human art, at which we look with praise and wonder, are instances of the resistless force of perseverance. --samuel johnson. but abide thou in the things which thou hast learned and hast been assured of, knowing of whom thou hast learned them. --- timothy . . my lord, i would remember to ask thee this morning for that of which i seem to have most need. may i have the will to keep my patience and realize the untold power of my words and actions. give me thy peace, not only to rest in, but that i may have it to give to others. amen. august fourteenth dr. meric casaubon born . dr. charles button born . walter besant born . ernest thompson seton born . florence nightingale died . i count this thing to be grandly true, that a noble deed is a step toward god; lifting the soul from the common clod to a purer air and a broader view. we rise by the things that are under our feet, by what we have mastered of good or gain, by the pride deposed and the passion slain, and the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. --richard watson gilder. no apostle of liberty much to my heart ever found i; license each for himself, this was at bottom their want. liberator of many! first dare to be servant of many; what a business is that, would'st thou know it, go try! --goethe. prove all things; hold fast that which is good. -- thessalonians . . gracious father, if i may be beginning this day with an unclean purpose in my heart, help me to clear it away; if i may be trying to avoid some urgent duty, make me ashamed to resist it. keep away the desires that harm my life, and that withhold the enjoyment of my common work. amen. august fifteenth jeremy taylor baptized . napoleon bonaparte born . sir walter scott born . thomas de quincey born . and do our loves all perish with our frames? do those that took their root and put forth buds, and their soft leaves unfolded in the warmth of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty, then fade and fall, like fair, unconscious flowers? o, listen, man! a voice within us speaks the startling word, "man, thou shalt never die!" --richard henry dana. i am drawing near to the close of my career; i am fast shuffling off the stage. i have been perhaps the most voluminous author of the day; and it is a comfort to me to think i have tried to unsettle no man's faith, to corrupt no man's principle, and that i have written nothing which on my deathbed i should wish blotted. --sir walter scott. but concerning love of the brethren ye have no need that one write unto you: for ye yourselves are taught of god to love one another. -- thessalonians . . almighty god, may i have that faith in eternal life which will make me careful of what i choose for my own and more careful of what i put in the lives of others. amen. august sixteenth ralph thoresby born . dr. thomas fuller died . dr. matthew tindal died . the secret of goodness and greatness is in choosing whom you will approach and live with, in memory or imagination, through the crowding obvious people who seem to live with you. --robert browning. fair nature's book together read, the old wood-paths that knew our tread, the maple shadows overhead-- where'er i look, where'er i stray, thy thought goes with me on my way, and hence the prayer i breathe to-day. --john greenleaf whittier. shall two walk together, except they have agreed? --amos . . lord god, i thank thee for the delight of congenial companions and the memory of friendship. may i not be quick to lose my friends through misunderstanding and selfishness. may i be considerate and constant and be able to climb to the highest steeps of friendship. amen. august seventeenth dr. william carey born . david crockett born . mary abigail dodge (gail hamilton) died . the destiny of nations lies far more in the hands of women--the mothers--than in the hands of those who possess power. we must cultivate women, who are educators of the human race, else a new generation cannot accomplish its task. --froebel. in an old continental town they will show you a prison in a tower, and on all the stones of that prison within reach one word is carved--it is, "resist!" years ago a godly woman was for forty years immured in that dungeon, and she spent her time in cutting with a piece of iron on every stone that one word, for the strengthening of her own heart and for the benefit of all who might come after her, "resist!" "resist!" "resist!" --j.g. mantle. then mordecai bade them return answer unto esther, think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the king's house, more than all the jews ... and who knoweth whether thou art not come to the kingdom for such a time as this? --esther . , . lord god, give me wisdom to help relieve the ignorant and suffering. may i strive in every way to free thy people, that they may be uplifted in the progress of life. amen. august eighteenth virginia dare, first english child born in america, . dr. henry hammond born . robert williams buchanan born . john russell born . pour out thy love like the rush of a river, wasting its waters for ever and ever, through the burnt sands that reward not the giver; silent or songful thou nearest the sea. scatter thy life as the summer showers pouring. what if no bird through the pearl rain is soaring? what if no blossom looks upward adoring? look to the life that was lavished for thee. --unknown. who is the happiest person? he whose nature asks for nothing that the world does not wish and use. --goethe. freely ye received, freely give. --matthew . . my father, i pray that i may have the sympathy that responds with consideration and devotion. may it be a joy for me to give comfort and render service where i may help. grant that i may not linger too long in happiness and miss thy blessings, but remember that to "travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive." amen. august nineteenth augustus cæsar died a.d. . james watt died . robert bloomfield died . honore balzac died . it is written not, "blessed is he that feedeth the poor," but "blessed is he that considereth the poor." and you know a little thought and a little kindness are often worth more than a great deal of money. --john ruskin. so pity never leaves the gentle breast where love has been received a welcome guest; as wandering saints poor huts have sacred made, he hallows every heart he once has swayed, and, when his presence we no longer share, still leaves compassion as a relic there. --thomas sheridan. if a brother or sister be naked and in lack of daily food, and one of you say unto them, go in peace, be ye warmed and filled; and yet ye give them not the things needful to the body; what doth it profit? --james . . tender father, help me to consider those who receive the crust of bread at my door; for if it be needed it is asked for by sad and desperate lives. make me conscious of thy mercy and help, that i may be considerate for the one with the outstretched hand. amen. august twentieth saint bernard died . robert herrick born . john and cornelius de witt killed . francis asbury born . henry p. liddon born . benjamin harrison, ohio, twenty-third president united states, born . the busy world shoves angrily aside the man who stands with arms akimbo set until occasion tells him what to do; and he who waits to have his task marked out shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled. --james russell lowell. awake, arise! the hour is late! angels are knocking at thy door! they are in haste and cannot wait, and once departed come no more. --henry w. longfellow. boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. --proverbs . . gracious father, grant that i may not tarry so long, that when i arrive i will hear, "too late, too late, ye cannot enter now"; but may i be so persistent with every day that when i arrive i may be ready as well as on time. amen. august twenty-first lady mary montagu died . jules michelet born . john tyndall born . let us never be afraid of innocent joy; god is good and what he does is well done; resign yourself to everything, even happiness; ask for the spirit of sacrifice, of detachment, of renunciation, and above all, for the spirit of joy and gratitude. --amiel. that's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture! --robert browning. and these things we write, that our joy may be made full. -- john . . lord god, help me to keep the things under my feet that are inclined to destroy happiness. show me clearly the line which divides right and wrong, that i may not fear the censure of the world. help me to act with good judgment and be calm in obeying thy laws. amen. august twenty-second john b. gough born . warren hastings died . g. w. de long born . i never saw a moor, i never saw the sea; yet know i how a heather looks and what a wave must be. i never spoke with god, nor visited in heaven; yet certain am i of the spot as if the chart were given. --emily dickinson. i don't want to possess a faith; i want a faith which will possess me. --charles kingsley. not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith jehovah of hosts. --zechariah . . my father, may there be no room in my soul for doubt. help me to be cautious and careful that my own neglect and carelessness may not cause the loss of my faith. may i be trustful as i look for the great light that guides me over the uncertain way. amen. august twenty-third rowland hill born . louis xvi born . william e. henley born . out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. it matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, i am master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul. --w. e. henley. a man who has borne himself honorably through a whole life makes an action honorable which might appear ambiguous in others. --goethe. wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable. -- corinthians . . father of mercy, i beseech thee to protect me in my endeavors as i try to live my ideals. may i not choose unnecessary burdens, and when i most need to be strong find that i have lived in that which has weakened my life. i ask for a clear mind and a strong heart that i may be "captain of my soul." amen. august twenty-fourth william wilberforce born . william thomas moncrieff born . theodore parker born . give me, lord, eyes to behold the truth; a seeing sense that knows the eternal right; a heart with pity filled, and gentlest ruth; a manly faith that makes all darkness light: give me the power to labor for mankind; make me the mouth of such as cannot speak; eyes let me be to groping men and blind. --theodore parker. love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, bound for the just, but not beyond; not glad, as the low-loving herd, of self in other still preferred, but they have heartily designed the benefit of broad mankind. and they serve men austerely, after their own genius, clearly, without a false humility. --ralph waldo emerson. herein i also exercise myself to have a conscience void of offense toward god and men always. --acts . . heavenly father, help me to-day to look into my heart and see the truth of my life, and show me thy heart that i may see the truth of life. amen. august twenty-fifth thomas chatterton died . sir william herschel died . francis bret harte died . o teach me in the trying hour, when anguish swells the dewy tear, to still my sorrows, own thy power, thy goodness love, thy justice fear. then why, my soul, dost thou complain? why drooping seek the dark recess? shake off the melancholy chain, for god created all to bless. --thomas chatterton. each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows which show like grief itself, but are not so: for sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, divides one thing entire to many shadows. --william shakespeare. why art thou cast down, o my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in god. --psalm . . loving father, forbid that i should be lonesome, and forget thou art my friend: and may i not pass over thy mercies while waiting for thy compassion. help me to find contentment in the inheritances of the earth, where i may always draw from thee. amen. august twenty-sixth sir robert walpole born . adam clarke died . henry fawcett born . lord, for to-morrow and its needs i do not pray; keep me, my god, from stain of sin just for to-day. help me to labor earnestly, and duly pray; let me be kind in word and deed, father, to-day. let me no wrong or idle word unthinking say; set thou a seal upon my lips through all to-day. let me in season, lord, be grave, in season gay; let me be faithful to thy grace, dear lord, to-day. --ernest wilberforce. and which of you by being anxious can add one cubit unto the measure of his life? --matthew . . my lord, i pray that thou wilt control my life, and bless the going out of my work, be it ever so great or small. help me to realize the necessity of earnestness, that i may "work while it is to-day," and i have the light, and not wait for the night, when it is too dark for work to be done. may i be faithful in my work until it is completed. amen. august twenty-seventh william woollett born . james thomson died . george w. f. hegel born . who are thy playmates, boy? "my favorite is joy, who brings with him his sister peace, to stay the livelong day. i love them both; but he is most to me!" and where are thy playmates now, o man of sober brow? "alas! dear joy, the merriest is dead, but i have wed peace; and our babe, a boy newborn, is joy." --john b. tabb. depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it. --psalm . . lord god, may i realize more my dependence on thee for the joys of life. i pray that as i accept thy gifts i will not neglect to take the peace and happiness which thou dost give with them. grant that i may have the bright hope and cheerful courage that is the experience of power and truth. amen. august twenty-eighth johann w. von goethe born . ormsby macknight mitchel born . jones very born . count lyoff (leo) tolstoy born . sir edward burne-jones born . leigh hunt died . all truly wise thoughts have been already thought a thousand times; but to make them truly ours we must think them over again honestly, till they take firm root in our personal experience. --goethe. the light that fills thy house at morn thou canst not for thyself retain; but all who with thee here are born it bids to share an equal gain. the wave, the blue encircling wave, no chain can bind, no fetter hold; its thunders tell of him who gave what none can ever buy for gold. --jones very. and the glory which thou hast given me i have given unto them --john . . father of love, i thank thee for thy daily love and for thy daily bread. may i feel that thy gifts are for all, and not mine to keep and store from those who are in need. help me as i say, "thy will be done to me," to so will it to others. amen. august twenty-ninth john locke born . john fawcett born . frederick d. maurice born . oliver wendell holmes born . maurice maeterlinck born . build thee more stately mansions, o my soul, as the swift seasons roll! leave thy low-vaulted past! let each new temple, nobler than the last, shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, till thou at length art free, leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! --oliver wendell holmes. we all live in the sublime. where else can we live? that is the only place of life. though you have but a little room, do you fancy that god is not there, too, and it is impossible to live therein a life that shall be somewhat lofty? do you imagine that you can possibly be alone, that love can be a thing one knows, a thing one sees; that events can be weighed like the gold and silver of ransom? --maurice maeterlinck. my soul waiteth in silence for god only: from him cometh my salvation. --psalm . . loving father, help me to live, that my spirit may always dwell in thy protecting love. amen. august thirtieth cleopatra died b. c. . william paley born . julian a. weir born . thyself and thy belongings are not thine own so proper as to waste thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. heaven doth with us as we with torches do, not light them for themselves; for if our virtues did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike as if we had them not. spirits are not finely touched but to fine issues, nor nature never lends the smallest scruple of her excellence, but, like a thrifty goddess, she determines herself the glory of a creditor, both thanks and use. --william shakespeare. brethren, be ye imitators together of me, and mark them that so walk even as ye have us for an ensample. --philippians . . my father, i pray that i may not let my life become commonplace through habit. may i not be content to rest in my virtues and let the days pass neglected. awaken my dull satisfactions to a desire to live for the greatest, that i may have the greatest to live for. amen. august thirty-first john bunyan died . charles james lever born . theophile gautier born . queen wilhelmina of holland born . let us be patient, and endure a while; the time may come that god may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. --john bunyan. he that is down need fear no fall; he that is low no pride; he that is humble ever shall have god to be his guide. --john bunyan. time delivers fools from grief and reason wise men. --epictetus. for our light affliction, which is for the moment, worketh for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory. -- corinthians . . my lord, if i may be walking through fields that are rough with grief and care, may i have the courage to continue on to the smooth pastures, where i may walk with comfort and peace. may i not let the weariness and sorrow that may come to my heart to-day dwarf my hope and enjoyment of the future. amen. september go forth at eventide, the eventide of summer, when the trees yield their frail honors to the passing breeze, and woodland paths with autumn tints are dyed; when the mild sun his paling luster shrouds in gorgeous draperies of golden clouds, then wander forth, mid beauty and decay, to meditate alone--alone to watch and pray. --emma c. embury. september first edward alleyn born . lydia sigourney born . james gordon bennett, sr., born . william stanley jevons born . o ye, who proudly boast, in your veins, the blood of sires like these, look to their lineaments. dread lest ye lose their likeness in your sons. should mammon cling too close around your heart, or wealth beget that bloated luxury which eats the core from manly virtue, or the tempting world make faint the christian purpose in your soul, turn ye to plymouth rock, and where they knelt kneel, and renew the vow they breathed to god. --lydia sigourney. educate children without religion, and you make a race of clever devils. --duke of wellington. remember his covenant for ever, the word which he commanded to a thousand generations. -- chronicles . . o lord of wisdom, kindle me with a love for true knowledge, that i may strive, in the moments i have now, to culture my life. not by might, not by power, but by thy spirit, o lord, may i learn and teach thy children. amen. september second john howard born . henry george born . george r. sims born . eugene field born . newell dwight hillis born . and thus we sat in darkness, each one busy in his prayer; "we are lost!" the captain shouted, as he staggered down the stair. but the little daughter whispered, as she took his icy hand, "isn't god upon the ocean, just the same as on the land?" --eugene field. happiness is through helpfulness. every morning let us build a booth to shelter some one from life's fierce heat. every noon let us dig some life-spring for thirsty lips. --newell dwight hillis. jehovah is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon, him in truth. --psalm . . heavenly father, may i live that my spirit may never feel lost from thee; and when i am in great need of thee, even unto death, may i know that thou art very near. amen. september third oliver cromwell died . george lillo died . bishop james harrington born . sarah orne jewett born . love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee: corruption wins not more than honesty. still in thy right hand carry peace, to silence envious tongues. be just and fear not: let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, thy god's and truth's; then if thou fallest, o cromwell, thou fallest a blessed martyr. --william shakespeare. surely, the only true knowledge of our fellow man is that which enables us to feel with him, which gives us a fine ear for the heart-pulses that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion. --george eliot. with all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love. --ephesians . . lord, give thy people consistency of judgment, one heart, and mutual love; and go on to deliver them, and with the work of the reformation; and make the name of christ glorious in the world. teach those who look too much on thy instruments to depend more upon thyself. pardon the folly of this short prayer: even for christ's sake. and give us a good night, if it be thy pleasure. amen. --prayer by oliver cromwell, just before death. september fourth pindar, poet, born b. c. . william e. dodge born . phoebe cary born . sir wilfred lawson born . i ask not wealth, but power to take and use the things i have, aright; not years, but wisdom that shall make my life a profit and delight. --phcebe gary. another day may bring another mind, a mind to learn when there is none to teach; to follow when no leader we can find; to enjoy when good is now beyond our reach. a better mind, but not a better time, a mind to will, but not a time to do what had been done, if we in life's bright prime, when god was ready, had been ready too. --thomas t. lynch. give diligence to present thyself approved unto god, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. -- timothy . . my father, help me to have lofty thoughts, and may i not be content until they are carried into purpose. help me to conquer that which will keep me from an act of happiness, and grant that by thinking of that which is pure, and doing that which is good, i may be made helpful and true. amen. september fifth catherine parr died . cardinal richelieu born . robert fergusson born . giacomo meyerbeer born . richard c. trench born . be patient! o, be patient! put your ear against the earth; listen there how noiselessly the germ o' the seed has birth-- how noiselessly and gently it upheaves its little way, till it parts the scarcely broken ground, and the blade stands up in day. be patient! o, be patient!--though yet our hopes are green, the harvest fields of freedom shall be crowned with sunny sheen. be ripening! be ripening--mature your silent way, till the whole broad land is tongued with fire on freedom's harvest day. --richard c. trench. and let patience have its perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, lacking in nothing. --james . . gracious father, help me to see the truth as thou hast made it, and may i not be indifferent to the beauty and patience of the earth's revelations. may i not mistake indolence for patient ambition, which i would have for anxious hours, and which i need for my heart's desires. amen. september sixth moses mendelssohn born . marquis de lafayette born . jane addams born . god will not seek thy race, nor will he ask thy birth; alone he will demand of thee, what hast thou done on earth? --persian. one dreams of the time when the interest and capacity of each person shall be studied with reference to the industry about to be undertaken. --jane addams. honor is purchased by deeds we do, honor is not won, until some honorable deed is done. --sir christopher marlowe. in diligence not slothful; fervent in spirit; serving the lord. --romans . . gracious father, wilt thou bring to my mind and heart the important things which are needed in preparing life. help me to use the strength that is given to me for to-day, that i may not have to give to-morrow to learning what i should have known. amen. september seventh queen elizabeth born . comte de buffon born . victorien sardou born . hannah more died . john g. whittier died . side by side in the low sunshine by the turban stone they knelt; each made his brother's woe his own, forgetting, in the agony and stress of pitying love, his claim of selfishness; peace, for his friend besought, his own became; his prayers were answered in another's name; and when at last they rose up to embrace, each saw god's pardon in his brother's face. --john g. whittier. my care is like my shadow in the sun, follows me flying, flies when i pursue it; stands and lies by me, does what i have done, this too familiar care does make me rue it. no means i find to rid him from my breast, till by the end of things it be suppressed. --queen elizabeth. bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of christ. --galatians . . lord god, help me to look for those who are in need of help. forgive me for my failures, and may i gather up my broken promises and try to redeem them. i ask for thy forgiveness, as i ask that thou wilt help me to forgive them who may have trespassed against me. amen. september eighth richard coeur de lion born . a.w. schlegel born . antonin dvorak born . all service ranks the same with god,-- with god, whose puppets, best and worst, are we: there is no last nor first. --robert browning. thou needest not man's little life of years, save that he gather wisdom from them all; that in thy fear he lose all other fears, and in thy calling heed no other call. then shall he be thy child to know thy care, and in thy self the eternal sabbath share. --jones very. he that keepeth the commandment keepeth his soul; but he that is careless of his ways shall die. --proverbs . . my lord, forbid that i should want to live to be known only for power and pride. help me to strive for that which is helpful and lovely. may i never be restrained from thee, but delight to follow in thy way. help me to be obedient to thy laws, that i may learn thy truths. amen. september ninth battle of flodden. james the fourth of scotland killed . luigi galvani born . then welcome each rebuff that turns earth's smoothness rough, each sting that bids nor sit, nor stand but go! be our joys three-parts pain! strive and hold cheap the strain; learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe. --robert browning. life without industry is guilt; and industry without art is brutality. --john ruskin. blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he hath been approved, he shall receive the crown of life. --james . . almighty god, help me as i start this day to remember how easy it is to drive the peace from it. may i do my best to keep it, and defy any indolence or disposition, that may make me spoil it. may i lay me down at night in peace and sleep because of the contentment that has filled the hours. amen. september tenth william the conqueror died . dr. thomas sheridan died . mungo park born . mrs. godwin (mary wollstonecraft) died . let the wind blow east, west, north, or south, the immortal soul will take its flight to the destined point. --thomas sheridan. he is void of true taste who strives to have his house admired by decorating it with showish outside; but to adorn our character by gentleness of a communicative temper is a proof of good taste and good nature --epictetus. let fortune empty her whole quiver on me. i have a soul that, like an empty shield, can take it all, and verge enough for more. --thomas dryden. the lord will deliver me from every evil work, and will save me unto his heavenly kingdom. -- timothy . . almighty god, i bless thee that it is thou who brought me to live on earth; and i rejoice that it is thou who wilt judge my life when thou takest me away. may i be saving thy rich gifts that i may not be found poor; and may i be worthy to receive thine inheritance and hear thee say, "well done." amen. september eleventh battle of marathon b. c. . william lowth born . james thomson born . but what is virtue but repose of mind, a pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm; above the reach of wild ambitious wind, above the passions that this world deform. --james thomson. and if i pray, the only prayer that moves my lips for me is, "leave the heart that now i bear, and give me liberty!" yes, as my swift days near their goal, 'tis all that i implore; in life and death, a chainless soul with courage to endure. --emily brontë. cast not away therefore your boldness, which hath great recompense of reward. --hebrews . . tender father, may i pause this morning to look at that which i keep uppermost in my life; and if it may not be worthy of thy esteem, may i be bold enough to revise my ideals. with thy compassion may i free my heart and mind of all unworthiness, and be given endurance to restore the empty places. amen. september twelfth jean-philippe rameau born . griffith jones died . charles dudley warner born . our duty is to be useful, not according to our desires, but according to our powers. --amiel. how good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in joy! --robert browning. do something! no man is born with a mortgage on his soul; but every man is born a debtor to time. meet this obligation before you find too late that your life is impoverished and you cannot redeem it. --m.b.s. let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that he may have whereof to give to him that hath need. --ephesians . . my father, what i have left out of my life i know i cannot recover now. i pray that i may give the best to what is left. make me deliberate, that i may prove my earnestness. make me industrious, that i may use my best resources to develop my life and further thy kingdom. amen. september thirteenth william cecil born . michael de montaigne died . general wolfe died . charles james fox died . and thou, o river of to-morrow, flowing between thy narrow adamantine walls, but beautiful, and white with waterfalls and wreaths of mist, like hands the pathway showing; i hear the trumpets of the morning blowing. it is the mystery of the unknown that fascinates us; we are children still, wayward and wistful; with one hand we cling to the familiar things we call our own, and with the other, resolute of will, grope in the dark for what the day will bring. --henry w. longfellow. behold, happy is the man whom god correcteth. --job . . almighty god, i pray that thou wilt help me to correct my life to-day that i may know a better way to-morrow; and may i be mindful and try to do right. grant that i may be patient and kind if i may be sick or in need, and always keep uppermost the faith of deliverance and eternal care. amen. september fourteenth alighieri dante died . alexander baron von humboldt born . julia magruder born . charles dana gibson born . since it is providence that determines the fates of men, their inner nature is thus brought into unison. there is such harmony, as in all things of nature, that one might explain the whole without referring to a higher providence. but this only proves the more clearly and certainly this higher providence, which has given existence to this harmony. --wilhelm von humboldt. the good mariner, when he draws near the port, furls his sails and enters it softly; so ought we to lower the sails of our worldly operations, and turn to god with all heart and understanding. --dante. thy righteousness is like the mountains of god; thy judgments are a great deep: o jehovah, thou preservest man and beast. --psalm . . my father in heaven, may i hear thy voice to-day! may i be quiet as i listen to thee. above the clamor of the crowd may i hear thee calling me. may i hear thee in my joys and in my sorrows; in my work and in my leisure. may i listen to thee oftener, that i may be familiar with thy ways. amen. september fifteenth james fenimore cooper born . louis joseph martel born . porfirio diaz born . william howard taft, ohio, twenty-sixth president united states, born . friendship is one of the cheapest and most accessible of pleasures; it requires no outlay and no very serious expenditure of time or trouble. it is quite easy to make friends, if one wants to... there is surely no greater pleasure in the world than to feel one is needed, welcomed, missed, and loved. --arthur c. benson. "friendship is love without his wings." --william h. taft (from byron). without sympathy, in the highest sense of intellectual penetration, kindness may be a folly, and intended aid, oppression. --john ruskin. he that maketh many friends doeth it to his own destruction; but there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. --proverbs . . my father, may i know the delight of true friendship which is responsive and sincere. may i never feel so secure in myself that i will cease to want friends, or be so dependent on others that i will be continually seeking them. may i understand the value of having a stanch friend and of being one. amen. september sixteenth gabriel d. fahrenheit died . w. augustus muhlenberg born . francis parkman born . yes, to this thought i hold with firm persistence-- the last result of wisdom stamps it true: he only earns his freedom and existence who daily conquers them anew. --goethe. for thee hath been dawning another blue day; look how thou let it slip empty away. --goethe. happy the man, and happy he alone, who can call to-day his own: he who, secure within, can say, "to-morrow, do thy worst, for i have lived to-day." --john dryden. arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of jehovah is risen upon thee. --isaiah . . gracious father, help me to be alert this morning and select the noblest that is in to-day. may i be diligent and not find in the evening that i have been unworthy of the day. amen. september seventeenth samuel prout born . dr. john kidd died . walter savage landor died . in the hour of distress and misery the eye of every mortal turns to friendship; in the hour of gladness and conviviality, what is your want? it is friendship. when the heart overflows with gratitude or with other sweet and sacred sentiment, what is the word to which it would give utterance? a friend. --walter savage landor. the hurried quest of some people to get hold of new friends is so perpetual that they never have time to get acquainted with anyone. --m.b.s. thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not; and go not to thy brother's house in the day of thy calamity: better is a neighbor that is near than a brother far off. --proverbs . . my lord and my friend, i pray that my sympathy may be sincere and comforting, and with a glad heart i may bring rejoicing to my friends. may i learn from thee how i may be a permanent friend. amen. september eighteenth trajan, roman emperor, born . james shirley born . samuel johnson born . joseph story born . there is no greater happiness than to be able to look on a life usefully and virtuously employed: to trace our own purposes in existence by such tokens that excite neither shame nor sorrow. --dr. johnson. the perfect poise that comes-from self-control, the poetry of action, rhythmic, sweet-- the unvexed music of the body and soul that the greeks dreamed of, made at last complete. our stumbling lives attain not such a bliss; too often, while the air we vainly beat, love's perfect law of liberty we miss. --annie matheson. brethren, i have lived before god in all good conscience until this day. --acts . . heavenly father, may i not confuse my life with rebellion, but through thy guidance find peace. help me through the perplexities that may keep me from the quietness of to-day. keep me in sight of the great plan of life, that i may grow steadfastly toward thee. amen. september nineteenth battle of poitiers . hartley coleridge born . president garfield died . be not afraid to pray--to pray is right. pray if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray though hope be weak, or sick with long delay; pray in the darkness, if there be no light. far is the time, remote from human sight, when war and discord on earth shall cease: yet every prayer for universal peace avails the time to expedite. --hartley coleridge. more things are wrought by prayer than the world dreams of. wherefore let thy voice rise like a fountain for me night and day. for what are men better than sheep or goats that nourish a blind life within the brain, if, knowing god, they lift not hands of prayer both for themselves and those who call them friend? for so the whole world is every way bound by gold chains about the feet of god. --alfred tennyson. continue stedfastly in prayer, watching therein with thanksgiving. --colossians . . o lord, give me the desire to pray, and teach me to pray as thou wouldst have my needs. sustain me, that i may overcome my weaknesses, and strengthen me, that i may have thine approval. may i be reverent and unselfish as i come to thee in prayer. amen. september twentieth battle of salamis b. c. . alexander the great born b. c. . robert emmet died . david ross locke (petroleum v. nasby) born . 'tis weary watching wave by wave, and yet the tide heaves onward; we climb, like corals, grave by grave, that pave a pathway sunward. we're driven back, for our next fray a newer strength to borrow; and where the vanguard camps to-day, the rear shall rest to-morrow. --gerald massey. be like the bird, that, pausing in her flight a while on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings. --victor hugo. trust in jehovah, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on his faithfulness. --psalm . . eternal god, help me to realize that life is not only endless but, whether i live in love and obedience, or wait in neglect and indifference, that i can never separate myself from thee. may i be diligent in worthy endeavors to do my best for thee. amen. september twenty-first girolamo savonarola born . emperor charles v died . sir walter scott died . it is the secret sympathy, the silver link, the silken tie, which heart to heart and mind to mind in body and in soul can bind. --sir walter scott. no action, whether foul or fair, is ever done, but it carves somewhere a record, written by fingers ghostly, as a blessing or a curse, and mostly in the greater weakness or greater strength of the acts which follow it. --henry w. longfellow. and he said unto them, look on me, and do likewise: and, behold, when i come to the outermost part of the camp, it shall be that, as i do, so shall ye do. --judges . . loving father, may i remember that from the beginning, all things were created beautiful and were given for love. i pray that i may be willing to be guided to the beautiful things of life and receive from them the delight of thy love. amen. september twenty-second peter simon pallas born . michael faraday born . theodore edward hook born . man learns to swim by being tossed into life's maelstrom and left to make his way ashore. no youth can learn to sail his life-craft in a lake sequestered and sheltered from all the storms, where other vessels never come. skill comes through sailing one's craft amidst rocks and bars and opposing fleets, amidst storms and whirls and counter currents. --newell dwight hillis. o, a trouble's a ton or a trouble's an ounce, or a trouble is what you make it! and it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, but only--how did you take it? --edmund c. vance. and thus, having patiently endured, he obtained the promise. --hebrews . . tender father, may i not encourage the disposition to enlarge and make much of the troubles and disappointments of life, and make light of the joys and privileges. i pray that i may keep a large place for happiness. amen. september twenty-third karl theodore körner born . hjalmar hjorth boyesen born . wilkie collins died . m.f.h. de haas died . when over the fair fame of friend or foe the shadow of disgrace shall fall; instead of words to blame, or reproof of thus and so, let something good be said. forget not that no fellow-being yet may fall so low but love may lift his head; even the cheek of shame with tears is wet if something good be said. --author unknown. the right christian mind will ... find its own image wherever it exists; it will seek for what it loves, and draw out of all dens and caves, and it will believe in its being, often when it cannot see it; and so it will lie lovingly over the faults and rough places of the human heart, as the snow from heaven does over the hard, and black, and broken mountain rocks. --john ruskin. to him that is ready to faint kindness should be showed from his friend. --job . . lord god, grant that after years of climbing i may not find the mist in my soul has dulled the vision of thy glory. keep me from the habit of looking for faults, and missing the virtues in others. forbid that i should be so occupied in taking measure of other lives that i neglect to measure my own. amen. september twenty-fourth john marshall born . zachary taylor, virginia, twelfth president united states, born . s.r. crockett born . get the truth once uttered, and 'tis like a star newborn that drops into its place, and which, once circling in its placid round, not all the tumult of the earth can shake. --james russell lowell. if you would be well spoken of, learn to speak well of others. and when you have learned to speak well of them, endeavor likewise to do well to them; and reap the fruit of being well spoken of by them. --epictetus. he that slandereth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his friend, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbor; he that doeth these things shall never be moved. --psalm . , . lord god, i bless thee for the lives of men and women who are willing to be led by the truth, and who are worthy to follow thee. i pray that thou wilt make me truthful, and keep me steadfast, that none may go astray by the uncertainty of my way. amen. september twenty-fifth william romaine born . felicia d. hemans born . w.m. rossetti born . not as the conqueror comes, they, the true-hearted, came; not with the roll of the stirring drums, and the trumpet songs of fame: amidst the storm they sang, and the stars heard and the sea; and the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang to the anthem of the free. ay, call it holy ground, the soil where first they trod; they have left unstained what there they found-- freedom to worship god. --felicia d. hemans. but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig-tree; and none shall make them afraid. --micah . . eternal god, may i look to the pilgrims and learn that to pray by faith with the heart is not to pray by faith of the imagination. help me to pray, and have faith to struggle for that which i would rightfully have. amen. september twenty-sixth admiral cuthbert collingwood born . dr. mary walker born . irving bacheller born . frederic william faber died . god is never so far off as even to be near-- he is within: our spirit is the home he holds most dear. to think of him as by our side is almost as untrue as to remove his throne beyond the starry blue. --f.w. faber. nearer, my god, to thee, nearer to thee! e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me; still all my song shall be-- nearer, my god, to thee, nearer to thee! --sarah f. adams. my righteousness i hold fast, and will not let it go: my heart shall not reproach me so long as i live. --job . . my father, may i consider the place in which i stand: and may i not be deceived in thinking i am near thee while i am living far away. teach me the way to draw nearer to thee each day, until my spirit may continually dwell with thee. amen. september twenty-seventh george cruikshank born . samuel francis dupont born . aimé millet born . henri frédéric arniel born . the man who has no refuge in himself, who lives, so to speak, in his front rooms, in the outer whirlwind of things and opinions, is not properly a personality at all; ... he is one of a crowd. --amiel. happy the heart that keeps its twilight hour, and in the depths of heavenly peace reclined, loves to commune with thoughts of tender power-- thoughts that ascend, like angels beautiful. --paul hamilton hayne. the art of meditation may be exercised at all hours and in all places; and men of genius in their walks, at table, and amidst assemblies, turning the eye of the mind inward, can form an artificial solitude; retired amidst a crowd, calm amidst distractions, and wise amidst folly. --disraeli. commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. --psalm . . heavenly father, save me from being so poor in spirit, that i will have to be sustained by the bright spirits of others. may i be continually refreshed by the spirit of life that may be found at all times. amen. september twenty-eighth francis turner palgrave born . frances e. willard born . general john d. french born . mary anderson born . unless there is a predominating and overmastering purpose to which all the accessories and incidents of life contribute, the character will be weak, irresolute, uncertain. --frances e. willard. life is not an idle ore, but iron dug from central gloom, and heated hot with burning fears, and dipt in baths of hissing tears, and battered with the shocks of doom to shape and use. --alfred tennyson. he that doubteth is like the surge of the sea driven by the wind and tossed.... a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. --james . , . o god, help me to be positive. may i not want to be in so many places, and in so many things, that i can never be found in anything. help me to know that a purpose secured is worth many attempts, and that to have a character i must build it. amen. september twenty-ninth pompey killed b.c. . robert lord clive born . horatio nelson born . o strange and wild is the world of men which the eyes of the lord must see-- with continents, inlands, tribes, and tongues, with multitudes bond and free! all kings of the earth bow down to him, and yet--he can think of me. for none can measure the mind of god or the bounds of eternity, he knows each life that has come from him, to the tiniest bird and bee, for the love of his heart is so deep and wide that it takes in even me. --mary e. allbright. are not two sparrows sold for a penny? and not one of them shall fall on the ground without your father: but the very hairs of your head are all numbered. --matthew . , . almighty god, cause me to look out this morning, and open wide my eyes, that i may see what great preparation thou hast made that i might live. may i be ashamed to start wrong and be unworthy of the glory of this day. amen. september thirtieth george whitefield died . william hutton born . john dollond died . up, up, my soul, the long-spent time redeeming; sow thou the seeds of better deeds and thought; light other lamps while yet thy lamp is beaming-- the time is short. think of the good thou might'st have done when brightly the suns to thee life's choicest season brought; hours lost to god in pleasure passing lightly-- the time is short. if thou hast friends, give them thy best endeavor, thy warmest impulse, and thy purest thought, keeping in mind and words and action ever-- the time is short. --elizabeth prentiss. what is your life? for ye are a vapor that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. --james . . loving father, help me to realize that i am not living in the right way nor the right place if i am discontented, or happy in trifles and untruth. help me to find my place, and with thy help may i stand firm and confident. amen. october the morns are meeker than they were, the nuts are getting brown; the berry's cheek is plumper, the rose is out of town. the maple wears a gayer scarf, the field a scarlet gown; lest i should be old-fashioned, i'll put a trinket on. --emily dickinson. october first saint john viscount bolingbroke born . pierre corneille died . rufus choate born . he speaks not well who doth his time deplore, naming it new and a little obscure, ignoble and unfit for lofty deeds. all times were modern in the time of them, and this no more than others. do thy part here in the living day, as did the great who made old days immortal. --richard watson gilder. he who is false to present duty breaks a thread in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten the cause. --henry ward beecher. for use almost can change the stamp of nature, and master the devil, or throw him out with wondrous potency. --william shakespeare. and when daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house (now his windows were open in his chamber toward jerusalem;) and he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his god, as he did aforetime. --daniel . . heavenly father, help me to get away from doubt that leads to despair. give me a vision of hope that is stayed on faith. may i be conscious and appreciative of my privileges while they come to me and make them immortal. amen. october second aristotle died b.c. . major john andre hanged . william ellery channing died . i am not earth-born, though i here delay; hope's child, i summon infiniter powers, and laugh to see the mild sunny day smile on the shrunk and thin autumnal hours; i laugh, for hope hath a happy place for me-- if my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea. --william e. channing. the stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; but thou shall flourish in immortal youth, unhurt amidst the war of elements, the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds. --thomas addison. for with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light. --psalm . . my father, i would pray that my sense of gloom may not be more than thy grace. may the glorious light of thy love break through my disheartened soul, and reveal the sincerity of thy promises, that i may be happy in thy care. amen. october third robert barclay died . george bancroft born . william morris died . come hither, lads, and harken, for a tale there is to tell of the wonderful days a-coming, when all shall be better than well. come, then, let us cast off fooling, and put by ease and rest, for the cause alone is worthy till the good days bring the best. --william morris. man's life is but a working day whose tasks are set aright; a time to work, a time to pray, and then a quiet night. and then, please god, a quiet night where palms are green and robes are white; a long-drawn breath, a balm for sorrow, and all things lovely on the morrow. --christina g. rossetti. and the ransomed of jehovah shall return, and come with singing unto zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads. --isaiah . . heavenly father, help me to see that before the night thou hadst planned the morning, and that thou hast never sent the night without the hope of the morning. before i rest in the night may i be ready for the morning. amen. october fourth francis of assisi died . edmund malone born . françois guizot born . jean françois millet born . rutherford b. hayes, ohio, nineteenth president united states, born . m.e. braddon born . we ought to rise day by day with a certain zest, a clear intention, a design to make the most of every hour; not to let the busy hours shoulder each other or tread on each other's heels, but to force every action to give up its strength and sweetness. there is work to be done, and there are empty hours to be filled as well.... but, most of all, there must be something to quicken, enliven, practice the soul. --arthur c. benson. men's souls ought to be left to see clearly; not jaundiced, blinded, twisted all awry, by revenge, moral abhorrence, and the like. --thomas carlyle. but there is a spirit in man, and the breath of the almighty giveth them understanding. --job . . spirit of life, i pray that thou wilt continually live within me. may my days be spent neither in waste nor idleness, but planned to use, with the best that is given me. amen. october fifth jonathan edwards born . denis diderot born . horace walpole born . nancy hanks died . chester a. arthur, vermont, twenty-first president united states, born . h.r. guy de maupassant born . earth gets its price for what earth gives us; the beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, the priest has his fee who comes and shrives us, we bargain for the graves we lie in; at the devil's booth are all things sold, each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; for a cap and bells our lives we pay, bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking; 'tis heaven alone that is given away, 'tis only god may be had for the asking. --james russell lowell. the free gift of god is eternal life. --romans . . gracious father, may the world speak to me of thy gifts, and of the peace and power which it freely offers. may i not pass by thy great appeals, and prefer to purchase at a great cost my indolence and dissipation. amen. october sixth jenny lind goldschmidt born . harriet g. hosmer born . charles stewart parnell died . alfred tennyson died . the heart which boldly faces death upon the battlefield, and dares cannon and bayonet, faints beneath the needle-points of frets and cares. the stoutest spirits they dismay-- the tiny stings of every day. ah! more than martyr's aureole and more than hero's heart of fire, we need the humble strength of soul which daily toils and ills require. sweet patience, grant us, if you may an added grace for every day. --adelaide a. procter. sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me! and may there be no moaning of the bar, when i put out to sea. --alfred tennyson. fret not thyself. --proverbs . . my father, i pray that i may not be dismayed over life, and its trifles. help me to master difficulties great and small, and give me patience through all until i reach the untroubled way. amen. october seventh sir philip sidney died . edgar allan poe died . oliver wendell holmes died . mary j. holmes died . yet in opinions look not always back; your wake is nothing, mind the coming track; leave what you've done for what you have to do; don't be "consistent," but be simply true. --oliver wendell holmes. a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. with consistency a great soul has nothing to do. --ralph waldo emerson. speak unto the children of israel, that they go forward. --exodus . . heavenly father, i pray that i may not be so consistent in the small things of life that i will lose the great inspirations that come to the soul. broaden my life, that i may have the freedom of heart and mind to pass over the failures and interruptions, and with vigorous energy continue in the progress of life. amen. october eighth caroline howard gilman born . edmund clarence stedman born . john hay born . he weren't no saint; them engineers is pretty much alike-- one wife in natchez-under-the-hill, another one here in pike; a keerless man in his talk was jim, and an awkward hand in a row, but he never flunked, and he never lied-- i reckon he never knowed how. --john hay. he is brave whose tongue is silent of the trophies of his word. he is great whose quiet bearing marks his greatness well assured. --edwin arnold. the pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, god, i thank thee, that i am not as the rest of men. --luke . . lord god, thou knowest what i am and where i belong. have mercy upon me and strengthen me, that i may not through weakness stay in the darkness. lead me out into the light; and may i find my way and be contented with it. amen. october ninth michael cervantes born . jacques auguste de thuanus (de thou) born . charles camilla saint-saëns born . i will not doubt, though all my ships at sea come drifting home with broken masts and sails; i shall believe the hand which never fails from seeming evil worketh good for me; and though i weep because those sails are battered, still will i cry, while my best hopes lie shattered, "i trust in thee." --ella wheeler wilcox.[ ] cease every joy to glimmer on my mind. but leave, o leave the light of hope behind. --thomas campbell. hope deferred maketh the heart sick; but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life. --proverbs . . loving father, help me to pass by my discouragements of yesterday and look into the hope of to-day. make me more careful of my strength, and less forgetful of thy promises and of my trust. amen. [footnote : special permission w.b. conkey, hammond, indiana. copyright .] october tenth henry cavendish born . benjamin west born . hugh miller born . giuseppe verdi born . fridtjof nansen born . we cannot make bargains for blisses, nor catch them like fishes in nets; and sometimes the thing our life misses helps more than the thing which it gets. for good lieth not in pursuing, nor gaining of great nor small, but just in the doing and doing as we would be done by is all. --alice gary. true, it is most painful not to meet the kindness and affection you feel you have deserved, and have a right to expect from others; but it is a mistake to complain, for it is no use; you cannot extort friendship with a cocked pistol. --sydney smith. thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. --matthew . . lord god, help me to understand that true affection is not that which as it gives feels it merits return. may i avoid being selfish and stubborn; and with my affections give peace and joy. amen. october eleventh sir thomas wyatt died . dr. samuel clarke born . james barry born . ask god to give thee skill in comfort's art, that thou may'st consecrated be and set apart, unto a life of sympathy; for heavy is the weight of ill in every heart; and comforters are needed much of christlike touch. --alexander hamilton. the man who melts with social sympathy though not allied, is than a thousand kinsmen of more worth. --euripides. who comforteth us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort them that are in any affliction, through the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of god. -- corinthians . . heavenly father, thou hast made sympathy divine. may i never make it commonplace. grant that as thou dost bless and comfort me i may be willing to comfort others, and do whatsoever thou wouldst have me do. amen. october twelfth columbus discovered america . lyman beecher born . george w. cable born . helena modjeska born . one poor day! remember whose and how short it is! it is god's day, it is columbus's. one day with life and heart is more than time enough to found a world. --james russell lowell. an illusion haunts us, that a long duration, as a year, a decade, a century, is valuable. but an old french sentence says, "god works in moments." we ask for long life, but 'tis deep life or grand moments that signify. let the measure of time be spiritual, not mechanical. life is unnecessarily long. moments of insight, of fine personal relation, a smile, a glance--what ample borrowers of eternity they are! --ralph waldo emerson. one day is with the lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. -- peter . . my father, i pray that when the "sun sets to-day my hope may not set with it." be with me earlier than the dawn, that i may plan with thee a new day. i pray that thou wilt release me from anything that keeps me from reaching the highest. amen. october thirteenth theodore beza died . murat, king of naples, shot . elizabeth fry died . what stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted! thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, and he but naked, though locked up in steel, whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. --william shakespeare. a man's accusations of himself are always believed, his praises never. --montaigne. justice needs that two be heard. --from goethe's autobiography. that which is altogether just shalt thou follow, that thou mayest live. --deuteronomy . . lord of justice, if i may be influenced this morning by doubt and am inclined to be resentful, wilt thou cause me to have a generous spirit and keep my faith. may i never descend to anything base or deceitful, but may i remember that if i lay down my life, i may have the power to take it up again. amen. october fourteenth william penn born . james fenimore cooper died . duke of wellington died . do good with what thou hast, or it will do thee no good. if thou wouldst be happy, bring thy mind to thy condition, and have an indifferency for more than what is sufficient. --william penn. the finest fruit earth holds up to its maker is a finished man. --humboldt. i considered napoleon's presence in the field equal to forty men in the balance. --duke of wellington. what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? for thou hast made him but little lower than god, and crownest him with glory and honor. --psalm . , . eternal god, may i know the value of the gift of life. may i think seriously of it, and not through abuse or neglect cripple it, remembering that it is mine to sow, to grow, and to reap. i pray that i may care more for the food and raiment of my soul than i care for the food and raiment of my body. amen. october fifteenth virgil born b.c. . evangelista torricelli born . edward fitzgerald born . being not unacquainted with woe, i learned to help the unfortunate. --virgil. there are some hearts like wells green-mossed and deep as ever summer saw, and cool their water is, yea, cool and sweet; but you must come to draw. they hoard not, yet they rest in calm content, and not unsought will give; they can be quiet with their wealth unspent, so self-contained they live. --author unknown. for out of much affliction and anguish of heart i wrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should be made sorry, but that ye might know the love which i have more abundantly unto you. -- corinthians . . gracious father, help me to understand that while i may be content to rest with what i have gathered, i cannot preserve the strength of my soul unless i share my possessions. give me a passion for humanity that will advance gifts through love, and offer service without the need of an appeal. amen. october sixteenth bishop hugh latimer burned at oxford . albrecht von haller born . noah webster born . robert stephenson born . as ships meet at sea--a moment together, when words of greeting must be spoken, and then away upon the deep--so men meet in this world; and i think we should cross no man's path without hailing him, and if he needs, giving him supplies. --henry ward beecher. nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a spoken word. a thought may be present to the mind, and two minds conscious of the same thought, but as long as it remains unspoken their familiar talk flows quietly over the hidden idea. --nathaniel hawthorne. and if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? --matthew . . heavenly father, i pray that thou wilt give me a generous heart. may i not lose sight of the truth, that thou hast made others to have the same needs and wants that i may have. may i not through pride or egoism fail to help, and neglecting to speak, miss an opportunity to assist. may i be self-forgetful in friendly service. amen. october seventeenth andreas osiander died . frederic chopin died . good name, in man or woman, dear my lord, is the immediate jewel of their souls; who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed. --william shakespeare. keep back your tears when a soul is untrue; "sorrow is shallow"; and one can wade through the mud and the marshes, and still endure if he finds he has kept his spirit pure. the rose near died when it fell to its lot to break its heart for forget-me-not; but after its heart was healed by the dew, right by its side a sweet violet grew! --m.b.s. a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold. --proverbs . . my father, teach me the value of the possessions that can neither be handled nor seen; and may i not take them away from others. help me to keep thy commandment "thou shalt not steal," and interpret it in all its relations to life. amen. october eighteenth matthew henry born . margaret (peg) woffington born . helen hunt jackson born . frederick harrison born . yet i argue not against heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot of heart of hope;, but still bear up and steer right onward. --john milton. write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. no man has learned anything rightly until he knows that every day is doomsday. --ralph waldo emerson. he mourns that day so soon has glided by: e'en like the passage of an angel's tear that falls through the clear ether silently. --john keats. i will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: i will counsel thee with mine eye upon thee. --psalm . . my father, if i may be living in bad habits, help me to get out of them. if i may be neglectful of good deeds, help me to get at them. may i reach for the highest purposes as i search for the realities, and may i not delay, but start to-day. amen. october nineteenth dean (jonathan) swift died . leigh hunt born . henry kirke white died . don't look too hard except for something agreeable; we can find all the disagreeable things we want, between our own hats and boots. --leigh hunt. instead of a gem or a flower, cast the gift of a lovely thought into the heart of a friend. --george macdonald. for the want of common discretion the very end of good breeding is wholly perverted; and civility, intended to make us easy, is employed in laying chains and fetters upon us, in debarring our wishes, and in crossing our most reasonable desires and inclinations. --jonathan swift. if it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men. --romans . . my lord, help me to adjust my life to what i ought to be, rather than be content in what i am. may i not spend my time in dreaming of obstacles, or searching for things that hurt, but may i be gentle and kind, and as i see the truth speak for it and follow it. amen. october twentieth sir christopher wren born . thomas hughes born . charles dudley warner died . there has always seemed to me something impious in the neglect of health. i could not do half the good i do if it were not for the strength and activity some consider coarse and degrading. --charles kingsley. to keep well drink often, but water; eat not that which makes life shorter; but first, with all your might and skill, just chain your habits to your will. --m.b.s. i will be lord over myself. no one who cannot master himself is worthy to rule, and only he can rule. --goethe. know ye not that your body is a temple of the holy spirit which is in you, which ye have from god? -- corinthians . . lord god, may i not wait until i am afflicted and cannot use them to thank thee for my blessings. guard me against infirmities that are brought on through indulgences, and help me to control my life. may i never forget that regret will not retrieve the life that is spent, even if it brings forgiveness and hope for the days to come. amen. october twenty-first samuel taylor coleridge born . alphonse lamartine born . samuel f. smith born . will carleton born . he prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small; for the dear god who loveth us, he made and loveth all. --samuel taylor coleridge. we thank thee, o father, for all that is bright-- the gleam of the day and the stars of the night, the flowers of our youth and the fruits of our prime, and the blessings that march down the pathway of time. --will carleton. thanklessness is a parching wind, drying up the fountain of pity, the dew of mercy, the streams of grace. for doth not that rightly seem to be lost which is given to one ungrateful? --saint bernard. o give thanks unto jehovah; for he is good; for his lovingkindness endureth for ever. --psalm . . my father, help me to understand that i cannot have self-development unless the spirit of truth drills my character. cleanse my heart from all impurity, and strengthen me for all usefulness: help me to daily live this prayer. amen. october twenty-second charles martel died . franz liszt born . george eliot born . sarah bernhardt born . o may i join the choir invisible of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence: live in pulses stirred to generosity, in deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn for miserable aims that end with self, in thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, and with their mild persistence urge man's search to vaster issues. this is life to come, which martyred men have made more glorious for us to strive to follow. may i reach that purest heaven, be to other souls the cup of strength in some great agony, enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, beget the smiles that have no cruelty, be the sweet presence of a good diffused, and in diffusion ever more intense! so shall i join the choir invisible whose music is the gladness of the world. --george eliot. and i give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish. --john . . my father, i pray that i may be more generous with my smiles and gladness, and more saving with my tears and sadness. amen. october twenty-third anne oldfield died . robert bridges born . mollie elliot seawell born . o youth whose hope is high, who doth to truth aspire, whether thou live or die, o look not back nor tire. thou that art bold to fly through tempest, flood and fire, nor dost not shrink to try thy heart in torments dire-- if thou canst death defy, if thy faith is entire, press onward, for thine eye shall see thy heart's desire. --robert bridges. doubt indulged becomes doubt realized. to determine to do anything is half the battle. courage is victory, timidity is defeat. --nelson. and thou, son of man, be not afraid of them, neither be afraid of their words, though briers and thorns are with thee, and thou dost dwell among scorpions. --ezekiel . . gracious father, try me again by the courage i have to-day, if thou art judging me by the fear i held yesterday. help me to see that wavering is misleading and temperament is deceptive. may i learn self-control. amen. october twenty-fourth hugh capet died . sir moses montefiore born . daniel webster died . exceeding peace made ben adhem bold, and to the presence in the room he said, "what writest thou?" the vision raised its head, and, with a look made of all sweet accord, answered, "the names of those who love the lord." "and is mine one?" said abou. "nay, not so," replied the angel. abou spoke more low, but cheerily still; and said, "i pray thee, then, write me as one that loves his fellow men." the angel wrote, and vanished. the next night it came again, with a great awakening light, and showed the names whom love of god had blessed-- and, lo! ben adhem's name led all the rest! --leigh hunt. call unto me, and i will answer thee, and will show thee great things. --jeremiah . . lord god, may i keep within my heart that secret sympathy that adds to the power of life. help me to seek the things that are real, and not be deceived by the things which only appear to be. may all with whom i have to do feel the better for my companionship. amen. october twenty-fifth geoffrey chaucer died . william hogarth died . george w. faber born . thomas b. macaulay born . wav'ring as winds the breath of fortune blows, no power can turn it, and no prayers compose. deep in some hermit's solitary cell, repose, and ease, and contemplation dwell. let conscience guide thee in the days of need, judge well thy own, and then thy neighbor's deed. --geoffrey chaucer. to every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late; and how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods. --thomas b. macaulay. even as the son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many. --matthew . . heavenly father, help me to remember that i am to cover life's journey, even though i may go the way carelessly and aimlessly. may i make an estimate of what i am losing, by waiting so long at the resting places, "for the road winds up hill all the way to the end, and the journey takes the whole day long, from morn to night." amen. october twenty-sixth dr. philip doddridge died . count von moltke born . elizabeth cady stanton died . one of the notable eddies of the present-day world currents is what has been loosely called the "woman movement." the sensitive and vicarious spirit of womanhood has been enlisted for service in behalf of those who have been denied a fair chance, or who are the victims of oppression, greed, and ignorance. --william t. ellis. and whether consciously or not, you must be in many a heart enthroned: queens you must always be: queens to your lovers; queens to your husbands and sons; queens of higher mystery to the world beyond, which bows itself, and will forever bow, before the myrtle crown, and the stainless scepter of womanhood. --john ruskin. o woman, great is thy faith: be it done unto thee even as thou wilt. --matthew . . lord and master of all, i pray that thou wilt make me see through my prejudices and beyond my desires to the very "top of my condition." may i not wait for places or circumstances that are dimly in the distance or that are near at hand, but accomplish the work i should do to-day. amen. october twenty-seventh james cook born . nicolo paganini born . theodore roosevelt, new york, twenty-fifth president united states, born . the vice of envy is not only a dangerous, but a mean vice; for it is always a confession of inferiority. it may promote conduct which will be fruitful of wrong to others, and it must cause misery to the man who feels it. --theodore roosevelt. of all the passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest service, and pays the bitterest wages. its service is to watch the success of one's enemy; its wages to be sure of it. --c.c. colton. dear to me is the friend, yet i can also make use of an enemy. the friend shows me what i can do, the foe teaches me what i should. --schiller. let us not become vainglorious, provoking one another. --galatians . . almighty god, i would ask thee that my days be filled with aspiration, and that my heart may know no envy. help me to love humanity. may i be so glad of the success of others that i may never know what it is to be envious. amen. october twenty-eighth desiderius erasmus born . john locke died . georges jacques danton born . not so in haste, my heart! have faith in god and wait; although he linger long, he never comes too late. until he cometh, rest, nor grudge the hours that roll; the feet that wait for god are soonest at the goal; are soonest at the goal that is not gained by speed; then hold thee still, my heart, for i shall wait his lead. --bayard taylor. it is good that a man should hope and quietly wait for the salvation of jehovah. --lamentations . . lord of life, may i pause to remember that rest may not be obtained with wretched thoughts, nor can it be enjoyed in discontent. in my moments of rest wilt thou show me how to relax, and with tranquillity may i gather hope for renewed ambition. amen. october twenty-ninth sir walter raleigh beheaded . james boswell born . john keats born . thomas bayard born . thomas edward brown died . rise, o my soul, with thy desires to heaven, and with divinest contemplation use thy time where time's eternity is given, and let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse; but down in darkness let them lie: so live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die! --sir walter raleigh. the great elements we know of are no mean comforters; the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown--the air is our robe of state, the earth is our throne, and the sea a mighty minstrel playing before it. --john keats. ah lord jehovah! behold, thou hast made the heavens and the earth by thy great power and by thine outstretched arm; there is nothing too hard for thee. --jeremiah . . almighty god, i thank thee for the power that gives me the breath of life. may i be willing to be controlled by its guiding care. amen. october thirtieth rev. john whitaker died . john adams, massachusetts, second president united states, born . adelaide anne procter born . and yet thou canst know, and yet thou canst not see; wisdom and sight are slow in poor humanity. if thou couldst trust, poor soul, in him who rules the whole, thou wouldst find peace and rest; wisdom and right are well, but trust is best. --adelaide anne procter. the heart to speak in vain essayed, nor could his purpose reach-- his will nor voice nor tongue obeyed, his silence was his speech. --john quincy adams. but still believe that story wrong which ought not to be true. --richard brinsley sheridan. blessed is the man that maketh jehovah his trust. --psalm . . my father, may i not be given to unkindly speech. deliver me from a critical spirit; and may i not encourage mistrust, but cultivate the kindly considerations in which life abounds. amen. october thirty-first all hallow's eve. john evelyn born . christopher anstey born . ere, in the northern gale the summer tresses of the trees are gone, the woods of autumn, all around our vale, have put their glory on. the mountains that unfold, in their wide sweep, the colored landscape round, seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, that guard the enchanted ground. ah! 'twere a lot too blessed forever in thy colored shades to stray; amid the kisses of the soft southwest to rove and dream for aye; and leave the vain low strife that makes men mad; the tug for wealth and power, the passions and the cares that wither life, and waste its little hour. --william cullen bryant. let the field exult, and all that is therein; then shall all the trees of the wood sing for joy. --psalm . . my father, may i have an appreciation of the wonderful creations of the earth. give me a discriminating eye, that i may know the precious things that thou art growing; and throughout my life may i love the beautiful, and choose that which will make my life worthy of growth. amen. november who said november's face was grim? who said her voice was harsh and sad? i heard her sing in wood paths dim, i met her on the shore so glad, so smiling, i could kiss her feet! there never was a month so sweet. --lucy larcom. november first sir matthew hale born . william m. chase born . sir robert grant died . o worship the king, all glorious above, o gratefully sing his power and his love; our shield and defender, the ancient of days, pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise. thy bountiful care what tongue can recite? it breathes in the air, it shines in the light; it streams from the hills, it descends to the plain, and sweetly distills in the dew and the rain. --robert grant. ye shall walk in all the way which jehovah your god hath commanded you, that ye may live, and that it may be well with you, and that ye may prolong your days in the land which ye shall possess. --deuteronomy . . almighty god, help me to make my life refulgent while i have the abundance of summer, that i may not find the november of life bleak and barren. help me to live in the realities of life, that i may gain energy and repose, to use for the lonesome and anxious hours. may i be watchful for the conditions that thwart life, and with patience wait for the awakening of truth. amen. november second marie antoinette born . field-marshal radetzky born . james knox polk, north carolina, eleventh president united states, born . overmastering pain--the most deadly and tragical element in life--alas! pain has its own way with all of us; it breaks in, a rude visitant, upon the fairy garden where the child wanders in a dream, no less surely than it rules upon the field of battle, or sends the immortal war-god whimpering to his father; and innocence, no more than philosophy, can protect us from this sting. --robert louis stevenson. my hopes retire; my wishes as before struggle to find their resting place in vain; the ebbing sea thus beats against the shore; the shore repels it; it returns again. --w.s. landor. yet jehovah will command his loving-kindness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be with me. --psalm . . loving father, i bless thee for thy goodness and tender mercy which is over all. may i trust thy provision and love through all circumstances, and as i trust myself to thee may i have faith to believe that thou wilt give me strength for what i may have to endure, and believe that thou wilt care for me, as thou dost care for all. amen. november third lucan born a.d. . william cullen bryant born . francis d. millet born . john watson (ian maclaren) born . pearl mary teresa craigie (john oliver hobbes) born . whither, midst falling dew, while glow the heavens with the last steps of day, far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue thy solitary way! vainly the fowler's eye might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, as, darkly painted on the crimson sky, thy figure floats along. he who, from zone to zone, guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, in the long way that i must tread alone, will lead my steps aright. --william cullen bryant. for jehovah your god dried up the waters of the jordan from before you, until ye were passed over. --joshua . . almighty god, help me to guard against gratification that leads to disappointment, that i may not miss the true way. i pray that thou wilt lift me in my weakness, and carry me over the rough and discouraging places, that i may be made strong in thy loving care, and be able to continue alone. amen. november fourth guido reni born . james montgomery born . edmund keane born . ernest howard crosby born . eugene field died . keep me, i pray, in wisdom's way, that i may truths eternal seek; i need protecting care to-day-- my purse is light, my flesh is weak. --eugene field. no one could tell me where my soul might be, i searched for god, but god eluded me. i sought my brother out, and found all three. --ernest h. crosby. in all thy ways acknowledge him, and he will direct thy paths. --proverbs . . my father, may i not face the going down of the sun to-day, looking at life, in a mirror that reflects my own privileges and prejudices, but may i see it as it is, known to those who are living to make it better. may the days to come prove my sincerity in wanting the truth that i might live by it, and help to do good with it. amen. november fifth hans sachs born . dr. john brown born . benjamin butler born . the thing that goes the farthest toward making life worth while, that costs the least, and does the most, is just a pleasant smile. that smile that bubbles from a heart that loves its fellow men will drive away the cloud of gloom and coax the sun again. --anonymous. one whom i knew intimately, and whose memory i revere, once in my hearing remarked that, "unless we love people we cannot understand them." this was a new light to me. --christina g. rossetti. oil and perfume rejoice the heart; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend that cometh of hearty counsel. --proverbs . . lord god, i pray that i may be worthy of my friends. may i not fear to go where i am called, and may i go cheerfully, even though the way be dark and lonesome. amen. november sixth james gregory born . john bright born . sir george williams died . look full into thy spirit's self, the world of mystery scan; what if thy way to faith in god should lie through faith in man? --john bright. blessed are they who have the gift of making friends, for it is one of god's best gifts. it involves many things, but above all, the power of going out of oneself and seeing and appreciating whatever is noble and loving in another. --thomas hughes. be perfected; be comforted; be of the same mind; live in peace: and the god of love and peace shall be with you. -- corinthians . . lord god, i earnestly entreat thee to show me if i may be cramping the happiness in another's life by forcing in my selfishness and demands. may i understand that perfect gifts are those that come through loving sacrifice. make me ashamed to ask for what i refuse or prefer not to give. amen. november seventh sir martin frobisher died . william stukeley born . friedrich leopold, count von stolberg, born . once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, in the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side; some great cause, god's new messiah offering each the bloom or blight, parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right; and the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light. --james russell lowell. we cannot command veracity at will; the power of seeing and reporting truly is a form of health that has to be delicately guarded, and as an ancient rabbi has solemnly said, "the penalty of untruth is untruth." --george eliot. behold, this only have i found: that god made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions. --ecclesiastes . . my father, help me to speak the truth and guard the truth, that righteousness may be an abiding influence in my life. amen. november eighth edmund halley born . john milton died . owen meredith (bulwer edward lytton) born . the morning drum-call on my eager ear thrills unforgotten yet! the morning dew lies yet undried along my field of noon. but now i pause a while in what i do, and count the bell, and tremble lest i hear (my work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. --robert louis stevenson. i fear life's many changes, not death's changelessness. so perfect is this moment's passing cheer, i needs must tremble lest it pass to less. thus in fickle love of life i live, lest fickle life me of my love deprive. --owen meredith. and jehovah said unto joshua, get thee up; wherefore art thou thus fallen upon thy face? up, sanctify the people, and say, sanctify yourselves against to-morrow. --joshua . , . almighty god, help me in these fleeting days that i may not use my time to consider and hesitate, but be positive in my desires and pursue them. grant that i may have the strength to hold each day precious, and live it more than consistently. amen. november ninth mark akenside born . william sotheby born . charles f. thwing born . the victor's road is the easy way. straight it stretches and climbs to where fame is waiting with garlands gay to wreathe the fighter who clambers there. there's applause in plenty and gold's red gleam for the man who plays on the winning team. the loser travels a longer lane; level it leads to a lonely land. there's little glory for him to gain the voices mock him on either hand; but the man who wins in the greater game is the man who, beaten, fights on the same. --g. rice. the hero is not fed on sweets, daily his own heart he eats; chambers of the great are jails, and head-winds right for royal sails. --ralph waldo emerson. he thanked god, and took courage. --acts . . o lord, i pray that whether i may be successful in the sight of the world, or whether i may be successful in my own sacrifices, i may have the freedom of courage, and be master of my life. amen. november tenth martin luther born . william hogarth born . oliver goldsmith born . johann von schiller born . joaquin miller born . henry van dyke born . as faith, so is god. --martin luther. learn the luxury of doing good. --oliver goldsmith. love is the ladder by which we climb up to the likeness of god. --johann von schiller. and who will walk a mile with me along life's weary way? a friend whose heart has eyes to see the stars shine out o'er the darkening lea, and the quiet rest at the end of the day-- a friend who knows and dares to say, the brave sweet words that cheer the way where he walks a mile with me. --henry van dyke. and whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with him two. --matthew . . my father, may i not dwell in the appearances of life, where i may grow selfish; but live in the realities of simplicity. may i not only seek those who may return me pleasure, but may i find delight in brightening the walk of a weary friend. amen. november eleventh alfred de musset born . thomas bailey aldrich born . rev. joshua brookes died . i'll not confer with sorrow till to-morrow, but joy shall have her way this very day. --thomas bailey aldrich. shall we have ears on the stretch for the footfalls of sorrow that never come, but be deaf to the whirr of the wings of happiness that fill all space? --maurice maeterlinck. this day is a day of good tidings, and we hold our peace: if we tarry till the morning light, punishment will overtake, us; now therefore come, let us go and tell the king's household. -- kings . . loving father, i pray that thou wilt help me to overcome unhappiness. may i not let depression overpower me, but claim the promises of joy that are open to every life. may i be blest by my own cheerfulness and encourage others to possess it. amen. november twelfth saint augustine died a. d. . richard baxter born . amelia opie born . elizabeth cady stanton born . thomas lord fairfax died . in life it is difficult to say who do you the most mischief--enemies with the worst intentions or friends with the best. --edward bulwer. the friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel. --william shakespeare. where persons who ought to esteem and love each other are kept asunder, as often happens, by some cause which three words of frank explanation would remove, they are fortunate if they possess an indiscreet friend who blurts out the whole truth. --thomas b. macaulay. yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom i trusted, who did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me. --psalm . . lord god, help me to consider more carefully what i offer to my friends; and may i not be critical of what i receive from my friends. may i not be a hindrance instead of a help to those who would have my companionship. amen. november thirteenth sir john moore born . robert louis stevenson born . sir john forbes died . little do we know our own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labor. --robert louis stevenson. whether thy work be fine or coarse, planting corn or writing epics, so only it be honest work, done to thine own approbation, it shall earn a reward to sense as well as to the thought. --ralph waldo emerson. nature gives to labor; and to labor alone. in a very garden of eden a man would starve but for human exertion. --henry george. but let each man prove his own work, and then shall he have his glorying in regard of himself alone, and not of his neighbor. --galatians . . my father, make pure living clear to me, that i may not be deceived in my work; and may i not use my working hours searching for more suitable work, but may i be sure in what i am that i may feel secure in what i undertake to do. amen. november fourteenth bishop hoadley born . fanny mendelssohn-hensel born . robert smythe hichens born . give us, o give us, the man who sings at his work! be his occupation what it may, he is better than any of those who follow the same pursuit in silent sullenness. --thomas carlyle. what doctor possesses such curative resources as those latent in a single ray of hope? the mainspring of life is in the heart. joy is the vital air of the soul, and grief is a kind of asthma complicated by atony. --amiel. i will sing unto jehovah as long as i live: i will sing praise to my god while i have any being. --psalm . . loving father, restore the spirit of gentleness and meekness if it may be withered within me, that i may be contented. may i make it a habit to be happy over my work and cheerful about my duties. may i never lose the view of the glory of thy kingdom. amen. november fifteenth william pitt, earl of chatham, born . william cowper born . sir william herschel born . johann lavater born . richard henry dana born . ida tarbell born . the parting sun sends out a glow across the placid bay, touching with glory all the show-- a breeze! up helm! away! careening to the wind, they reach, with laugh and call, the shore. they've left their footprints on the beach, but them i hear no more. --richard henry dana. art little? do thy little well: and for thy comfort know the great can do their greatest work no better than just so. --goethe. but be thou an ensample to them that believe, in word, in manner of life, in love, in faith, in purity. -- timothy . . lord god, grant that if i may be complaining of what providence has not sent me, i may not be neglecting what providence has given me. may i not pause too long over what i have done, or over what i might have done, but may i be appreciative of what thou dost expect of me and endeavor to accomplish it. amen. november sixteenth tiberius born b.c. . gustavus adolphus killed . francis danby born . judge not the workings of his brain and of his heart thou canst not see; what looks to thy dim eyes a stain in god's pure light may only be a scar, brought from some well-won field, where thou would'st only faint and yield. and judge none lost; but wait and see, with hopeful pity, not disdain; the depth of the abyss may be the measure of the height of pain and love and glory that may raise the soul to god in after days! --adelaide a. procter. i am more afraid of deserving criticism, than of receiving it. --william gladstone. judge not, that ye be not judged. --matthew . . lord jehovah, judge of all mankind, forbid that i should set myself as a judge of another's life, and neglect to live for the higher judgment of my own. may i not be absorbed in that which thrives in darkness, but live in the light of honesty and gentleness. amen. november seventeenth queen mary of england died . joost van den vondel born . george grote born . there are evergreen men and women in the world, praise be to god!--not many of them, but a few. they are not the showy folk. (nature is an old-fashioned shopkeeper; she never puts her best goods in the window.) they are only the quiet, strong folk; they are stronger than fate. the storms of life sweep over them, and the biting frosts creep round them; but the winds and the frosts pass away, and they are still standing, green and straight. --jerome k. jerome. and he shall be like a tree planted by the streams of water, that bringeth forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also doth not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. --psalm . . gracious lord, may i not spend most in equipment and forget the tides, which may desert me on the sands, or the rocks in the channels, which may crush the finest vessel. may i be prepared for the hard knocks if they come, but may i know how to keep clear of them. amen. november eighteenth sir david wilkie born . louis j. m. daguerre born . cyrus field born . william s. gilbert born . if e'er when man had fallen asleep, i heard a voice, "believe no more," a warmth within the breast would melt the freezing reason's colder part, and like a man in wrath, the heart stood up and answered, "i have felt." --alfred tennyson. faith is the deep want of the soul. we have faculties for the spiritual, as truly as for the outward world. god, the foundation of all existence, may become to the mind the most real of all beings. the believer feels himself resting on an everlasting foundation. --william henry channing. and they said one to another, was not our heart burning within us, while he spake to us in the way, while he opened to us the scriptures? --luke . . lord god, save me from a hard and doubting heart. may i be trustful and come to thee in faith. all the days of my life may my lips sing thy praise as i unfold thy love and purposes. amen. november nineteenth nicolas poussin died . albert thorwaldsen born . james a. garfield, ohio, twentieth president united states, born . mary hallock foote born . count lyoff (leo) tolstoy died . and son i live, you see, go through the world, try, prove, reject, prefer, still struggling to effect my warfare; happy that i can be crossed and thwarted as a man, not left in god's contempt apart, with ghastly smooth life, dead at heart, tame in earth's paddock, as her prize. --robert browning. be good at the depths of you, and you will discover that those who surround you will be good even to the same depths. therein lies a force that has no name; a spiritual rivalry that has no resistance. --maurice maeterlinck. first of all, i must make myself a man; if i do not succeed in that, i can succeed in nothing. --james a. garfield. that we may be no longer children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, in craftiness, after the wiles of error. --ephesians . . eternal god, i thank thee for all the sterling elements that greaten the individual life. i pray that i may not desire to be kept a small creature, but seek to grow in wisdom and love, and qualify for mighty purposes and achievements. amen. november twentieth paul potter born . thomas chatterton born . william ellery channing born . sir wilfred laurier born . then why, my soul, dost thou complain? why drooping seek the dark recess? shake off the melancholy chain, for god created all to bless. the gloomy mantle of the night, which on my sinking spirits steals, will vanish at the morning light, which god, my east, my sun, reveals. --thomas chatterton. lady, there is a hope that all men have-- some mercy for their faults, a grassy place to rest in, and a flower-strewn, gentle grave: another hope which purifies our race, that when that fearful bourne forever past, they may find rest--and rest so long to last. i seek it not, i ask no rest forever, my path is onward to the farthest shores. --william ellery channing. he brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay; and he set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. and he put a new song in my mouth. --psalm . , . my father, i pray that i may have patience to live through the difficulties of life. may i correct my faults, that they may not destroy my peace and take from me my strength; help me to center my life in brightness and hope. amen. november twenty-first claude lorraine died . bryan waller procter (barry cornwall) born . mary johnston born . there is not a creature from england's king to the peasant that delves the soil, who knows half the pleasures the seasons bring if he had not his share of toil. --barry cornwall. it may be proved, with much certainty, that god intends no man to live in this world without working; but it seems to me no less evident that he intends every man to be happy in his work. now, in order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed: they must be fit for it; and they must not do too much of it; and they must have a sense of success in it. --john ruskin. let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that he may have whereof to give to him that hath need. --ephesians . . my father, if my work seems hard to-day, may i not cease working if i grow weary, but may my strength be renewed to continue my work. may the aim of my work be to please thee, and to help in the progress of humanity. amen. november twenty-second saint cecilia martyred a.d. . sir henry havelock died . justin m'carthy born . sometimes the sun, unkindly hot, my garden makes a desert spot, sometimes a blight upon the tree takes all my fruit away from me; and then with throes of bitter pain rebellious passions rise and swell; and so i sing and all is well. --paul laurence dunbar. such songs have power to quiet the restless pulse of care, and come like benediction that follows after prayer. --henry w. longfellow. songs consecrate to truth and liberty. --percy bysshe shelley. david took the harp, and played with his hand: so saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him. -- samuel . . almighty god, i thank thee that thou wilt come to me as my heart cries for need. i bless thee that thou dost come to me as my lips sing thy praise. i pray that i may be saved from a cruel and cheerless heart, and be a sharer of the songs that are sung to the soul. amen. november twenty-third thomas tallis died . franklin pierce, new hampshire, fourteenth president united states, born . marie bashkirtseff born . asleep, awake, by night or day, the friends i seek are seeking me; no word can drive my bark astray, nor change the tide of destiny. the stars come nightly to the sky, the tidal wave unto the sea; nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, can keep my own away from me. --john burroughs. if a man could make a single rose we would give him an empire; yet flowers no less beautiful are scattered in profusion over the world, and no one regards them. --martin luther. let patience have its perfect work. --james . . my creator, may i remember that after thou didst create the earth thou didst say it was good. may i love the fragrance and beauty of the flowers which were made to nourish the soul, and the fruits and herbs which were made to nourish the body. may my song of thanksgiving be new every morning, as i awake in the abundance of what thou hast prepared. amen. november twenty-fourth john knox died . baron spinoza born . grace darling born . frances hodgson burnett born . i waited long until the sky should give me of its blue to weave and wear, and share, and weave the very stars into. the days they went, the years they went, and left my hands instead another thing for wonderment, the mending and the bread. ah me, and one must set a hand to burnish up the task, and hush and hush the old demand a wakeful heart will ask. but with a star's clear eye on me, o, i can hear it said, "what souls there be that only see the mending and the bread!" --josephine p. peabody. the riches of a commonwealth are free, strong minds and hearts of health. and more to her than gold or grain, the cunning hand and cultured brain. --john g. whittier. for the life is more than the food, and the body than the raiment. --luke . . my father, i pray that thou wilt help me, that i may not consume my life in preparing clothes and food for my body. amen. november twenty-fifth charles kemble born . john bigelow born . paul haupt born . john kitto died . i will not kill or hurt any living creature needlessly, nor destroy any beautiful thing, but will strive to save and comfort all gentle life and guard and perfect all natural beauty on earth. i will strive to raise my own body and soul daily into all the higher powers of duty and-happiness, not in rivalship or contention with others, but for help, delight, and honor of others and for the joy and peace of my own life. --john ruskin. they shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of jehovah, as the waters cover the sea. --isaiah . . lord god, i rejoice in the blessedness of peace. may i not try to force peace where cruelty has entered, but keep a watch for what may come into my life. i pray that if i may be in turbulence to-day, thou wilt quiet me with thy peace which knows no fear or wrong. amen. november twenty-sixth sir william ware born . john elwes died . john loudoun macadam died . i'd like a way to change the clouds that bring us sorrow, and build to-day a bright to-morrow; to banish cares that tarry long, and have the days like the blue-bird's song-- i'd like a way. i'll find a way-- i'll set sail when the breeze is high, and calmly drift when pleasure's nigh; i'll steer a course afar from tears, and take in joy the coming years-- i'll find a way. i've lost the way! out through the gloom a beam of light looks like a purpose looming bright! up with the sail! i'll out to sea and bring that purpose back with me, or go its way. --m.b.s. unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness: he is gracious, and merciful, and righteous. --psalm . . my father, i pray that i may not through indifference wander without a purpose, or through discouragement stumble through the darkness. may i be drawn to the light by the vision of hopeful and useful days. amen. november twenty-seventh horace died b.c. . marquise d'aubigné maintenon born . general artemus ward born . fanny kemble born . alexandra dumas died . be this thy brazen bulwark of defense, to preserve a conscience void of offense, and never turn pale with guilt. --horace. is life a noxious weed which whirlwinds sow? a useless flint o'er which the waters flow? not so! a life well spent has not its weight in gold; it is the clearest crystal earth doth hold, a gem beside which suns seem dull and cold. --robert louis stevenson. that they may lay hold on the life which is life indeed. -- timothy . . lord god, i pray that my life may not be impoverished by neglect, nor burdened with indulgences, but that it may be kept in condition for high endeavors. grant that i may never be content to rest in satisfaction and ease when i could struggle and accomplish a good work. amen. november twenty-eighth william blake born . anton g. rubinstein born washington irving died . the sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget. take warning by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. --washington irving. joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul divine; every grief and pine runs a joy with a silken twine. --william blake. ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. --john . . heavenly father, grant that i may not lose the kindness that i may give and receive to-day. i thank thee for the memories of yesterday, the hope of to-morrow, and the wisdom of to-day. may i have a vision of immortality that will keep me through the closest sorrow. amen. november twenty-ninth sir philip sidney born . a. bronson alcott born . wendell phillips born . louisa m. alcott born . truth is sensitive and jealous of the least encroachment of its sacredness. --a. bronson alcott. faith that withstood the shocks of toil and time, hope that defied despair, patience that conquered care, and loyalty whose courage was sublime; teaching us how to seek the highest goal, to earn the true success; to live to love, to bless, and make death proud to take a royal soul. --louisa m. alcott. nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be. --alfred tennyson. in hope of eternal life, which god, who cannot lie, promised before times eternal. --titus . . heavenly father, i pray that i may live in truth; and without fear of life or death live content in the faith of eternal life. amen. november thirtieth peregrine white born new england . jonathan swift born . samuel l. clemens (mark twain) born . winston churchill born . he gave it for his opinion that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together. --jonathan swift. that man may last, but never lives, who much receives, but nothing gives; whom none can love, whom none can thank,-- creation's blot, creation's blank. --thomas gibbons. give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, shall they give into your bosom. for with what measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again. --luke . . my father, preserve my soul from all selfishness. may i delight in thy teaching as i trust in thy word. i pray that i may not only speak truthfully, but that i may leave the door of my spirit open, that truth may always enter and abide continually. amen. december he comes--he comes--the frost spirit comes: you may trace his footsteps now on the naked woods and the blasted fields, and the brown hill's withered brow. he has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees, where their green came forth, and the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth. he comes--he comes--the frost spirit comes! let us meet him as we may, and turn with the light of the parlor fire his evil power away; and gather closer the circle round, where the firelight dances high, and laugh at the shriek of the baffled fiend, as his sounding wing goes by. --john g. whittier. december first dr. george birkbeck died . queen alexandra born . r.w. dale born . ebenezer elliott died . we would fill the hours with the sweetest things, if we had but a day: we should drink alone at the purest springs, in our upward way: we should guide our wayward or wearied will, by the clearest light: we should keep our eyes on the heavenly hills, if they lay in sight: we should be from our clamorous selves set free, to work and pray: and be what the father would have us to be, if we had but a day. --margaret e. sangster. whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. --philippians . . gracious father, help me to understand that my life grows out of what i put into my days. forgive me for the unspoken words and the kind deeds which i kept for rare days, and had so few occasions to use. may i be as useful in kindness as i am in work, remembering that to thee every day is a golden day. amen. december second david masson born . john brown hanged, charlestown, west virginia . hugh miller died . the solitude of life is known to us all; for the most part we are alone, and the voices of friends come only faint and broken across the impassable gulfs which surround every human soul. --hamilton mabie. to have an ideal or to have none, to have this ideal or that--this is what digs gulfs between men, even between those who live in the same family circle, under the same roof, or in the same room. you must love with the same love, think with the same thoughts as some one else if you are to escape solitude. --amiel. the plans of the heart belong to man; but the answer of the tongue is from jehovah. --proverbs . . lord god, help me to take in the glory of life, that my spirit may never be lonely, even though i may have to be much alone. i pray that thou wilt spare me the loneliness and the solitude that may be brought on by selfishness. make me considerate of others. may i soar above the disappointments and losses that may come to me, and stay where i may have thy companionship. amen. december third samuel crompton born . sir frederick leighton born . robert louis stevenson died . to know what you prefer, instead of humbly saying "amen" to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive. --robert louis stevenson. there is precious instruction to be got by finding we were wrong. let a man try faithfully, manfully to be right. he will grow daily more and more right. --thomas carlyle. the hero is the man who is immovably centered. --ralph waldo emerson. let us draw near with a true heart in fulness of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience: and having our body washed with pure water. --hebrews . . gracious father, grant that i may not be content to follow through ignorance and indolence and be led to the lowly paths of life. make my hie positive; and from my surroundings may i look out and struggle to mount to the highest ideals, that i may be qualified to select the best in life. amen. december fourth cardinal richelieu died . william drummond died . madame recamier born . thomas carlyle born . john kitto born . it is with a man's soul as it is with nature: the beginning of creation is--light. till the eye have visions the whole members are in bonds. divine moment, when over the tempest-tost soul, as once over the wild-weltering chaos, it is spoken: let there be light! --thomas carlyle. what in me is dark illumine, what is low raise and support; that to the light of this great argument i may assert eternal providence and justify the ways of god to men. --john milton. for thou art my lamp, o jehovah; and jehovah will lighten my darkness. -- samuel . . my lord, forgive me if i have allowed bitterness and misery to darken my life, for my soul yearns continually for the light. in thy compassion lead me to the "sunny side of the road where the beautiful flowers grow," that my path may be made bright and cheerful all the rest of the way. amen. december fifth martin van buren, new york, eighth president united states, born . christina g. rossetti born . alice brown born . a cold wind stirs the blackthorn to burgeon and to blow, besprinkling half-green hedges with flakes and sprays of snow. through coldness and through keenness, dear hearts take comfort so: somewhere or other doubtless these make the blackthorn blow. --christina g. rossetti. there are some men and women in whose company we are always at our best. all the best stops in our nature are drawn out by their intercourse, and we find a music in our souls never there before. --henry drummond. and let us consider one another to provoke unto love and good works. --hebrews . . my father, i thank thee for life. make me sensitive to the unseen influences that bring thy messages. may i be led where great riches may be found through small kindnesses, and where i may learn from the meek the beauty of earth. amen. december sixth general george monk born . warren hastings born . dr. richard barham born . that low man seeks a little thing to do, sees it and does it: this high man, with a great thing to pursue, dies ere he knows it. that low man goes on adding one to one, his hundred's soon hit: this high man, aiming at a million, misses an unit. that, has the world here--should he need the next, let the world mind him! this, throws himself on god, and unperplexed seeking shall find him. --robert browning. hitch your wagon to a star. --ralph waldo emerson. when thou saidst, seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, thy face, jehovah, will i seek. --psalm . . almighty god, show me what thou hast given for me to do, that i may not leave undone that which is mine. forgive me for useless planning and blind asking for the things which cannot be mine. i pray that my work may be honest work, well done, and acceptable for thy service. amen. december seventh cicero assassinated b.c. . john dalton born . mary stuart, queen of scotland, born . it is virtue--yes, let me repeat it again--it is virtue alone that can give birth, strength, and permanency to friendship. for virtue is a uniform and steady principle ever acting consistently with itself. --cicero. a common friendship--who talks of a common friendship? there is no such thing in the world. on earth no word is more sublime. --henry drummond. but thou shalt surely open thy hand unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need. --deuteronomy . . lord god, wilt thou reveal to me my weakness if i may be insincere; and give me the strength that i lack to keep me true. may i not take advantage of the ignorant, or thoughtlessly lead the innocent into temptation. grant that i may be a trustful and kind friend. amen. december eighth john pym died . richard baxter died . thomas de quincey died . elihu burritt born . robert collyer born . into the dusk of the east, gray with the coming of night, this may we know at least-- after the night comes light! over the mariners' graves, grim in the depths below, buoyantly breasting the waves, into the east we go. on to a distant strand, wonderful, far, unseen, on to a stranger land, skimming the seas between; on through the days and nights, hope in each sailor's breast, on till the harbor lights flash on the shores of rest! j.h. jowett. so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. --psalm . . lord god, i pray that thou wilt provide me with thy indwelling peace. may it keep me reconciled to the decline of years, and enable me to bear the earthly separation from those whom i love. may i always have hope and trust in thee. amen. december ninth john milton born . sir anthony van dyck died . joel chandler harris born . doth god exact day labor, light denied? i fondly ask: but patience, to prevent that murmur, soon replies, "god doth not need either man's work, or his own gifts; who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, and post o'er land and ocean without rest; they also serve who only stand and wait." --john milton. "'tain't on'y chilluns w'at got de consate er doin' eve'ything dey see yuther folks do. hit's grown folks w'at oughter know better," said uncle remus. --joel chandler harris. wherefore, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us have grace, whereby we may offer service well-pleasing to god with reverence and awe. --hebrews . . my father, teach me to select my work from that which is noble and true. may i not mold my life in affectation or feel that i must imitate the lives of others, but grant that i may perfect my life through experiences which are worthy of increasing endeavors. amen. december tenth thomas holcroft born . dr. thomas hopkins gallaudet born . eugene sue born . be of good cheer. do not think of to-day's failures, but of success that may come to-morrow. you have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will have a joy in overcoming obstacles--a delight in climbing rugged paths which you would perhaps never know if you did not sometimes slip backward, if the road were always smooth and pleasant. remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost. --helen keller. we rise by things that are beneath our feet, by what we have mastered by good and gain, by the pride deposed and passion slain, and the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. --j.g. holland. he that overcometh, i will give to him to sit down with, me in my throne, as i also overcame, and sat down with my father in his throne. --revelation . . my father, i pray that i may not be given to contradicting and doubting, nor take for granted that which needs to be considered. grant that i may have the faith and strength of heart to fulfill the longings of my soul. amen. december eleventh sir roger l'estrange died . dr. william cullen born . colley cibber died . lord, subdue our selfish will; each to each our tempers suit, by thy modulating skill, heart to heart, as lute to lute. --charles wesley. one of the last, slowly murmured sayings of whittier, was this: "give--my--love--to--the--world." and this is the world's supreme need to-day; more than our eloquence, or our knowledge, or our wealth, or all else besides, it needs our love. true, even love may sometimes err; but the cure for love's mistakes is just more love; we often blunder because we do not love enough. god help us all that, like whittier, we may live and die, giving our love to the world. --george jackson. love never faileth. -- corinthians . . lord god, help me to see the beauty of the world, and through my duty may i find the love in the world. may i not spend my life in discontent, but may i remember that thou hast said, "the meek shall inherit the earth." fill my heart with compassion, that i may love my fellow man as i love myself. amen. december twelfth chief justice john jay born . gustav flaubert born . robert browning died . a people is but the attempt of many to rise to the completer life of one. and those who live for models for the mass are singly of more value than they all. --robert browning. give me the power to labor for mankind; make me the mouth of such as cannot speak; eyes let me be to groping men and blind; a conscience to the base; and to the weak let me be hands and feet, and to the foolish, mind; and lead still further on such as thy kingdom seek. --theodore parker. i was eyes to the blind, and feet was i to the lame. --job . . almighty god, wilt thou guide me in the direction where i may choose a useful life; open wide my heart as well as my eyes, that i may early see my work and be diligent in its prosecution. reveal to me, when i may have failed, that i may do better to-morrow. amen. december thirteenth william drummond born . dr. samuel johnson died . joseph noel paton born . phillips brooks born . hamilton mabie born . when the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how they can be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. --dr. samuel johnson. the fountains of joy and sorrow are for the most part locked up in ourselves.... there come to great, solitary, and sorely smitten souls moments of clear insight, of assurance of victory, of unspeakable fellowship with truth and life and god, which outweigh years of sorrow and bitterness. --hamilton mabie. and ye therefore now have sorrow: but i will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no one taketh away from you. --john . . my father, may i remember that the days of my life that i give over to grief can never be reclaimed. help me that i may not want to keep sorrow in my life, but with faith may i believe that "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." amen. december fourteenth daniel neal born . rev. charles wolfe born . george washington died . frances ridley havergal born . seldom can the heart be lonely, if it seek a lonelier still; self-forgetting, seeking only emptier cups of love to fill. --frances r. havergal. when to the sessions of sweet silent thought i summon up remembrance of things past, i sigh the lack of many a thing i sought. and with old woes new wail my dear time's waste * * * * * but if the while i think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored, and sorrows end. --william shakespeare. the lord jehovah hath given me the tongue of them that are taught, that i may know how to sustain with words him that is weary. --isaiah . . gracious father, keep me cheerful and courageous, that i may not be given to weary murmurings. may my hours of solitude be spent profitably as they pass. grant that i may be a help to those who are in need of sympathy and encouragement, and through the peace that is given to me help them to a tranquil life. amen. december fifteenth catherine of aragon born . george romney born . franklin b. sanborn born . yet frequent visitors shall kiss the shrine, and ever keep its vestal lamp alight; all noble thoughts, all dreams divinely bright, that waken or delight this soul of mine. --f.b. sanborn. one small cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls are scattered; think one thought, a soul may perish; say one word, a heart may break. --a.a. procter. self-scrutiny is often the most unpleasant, and always the most difficult, of moral actions. but it is also the most important and salutary; for, as the wisest of the greeks said, "an unexamined life is not worth living." --j. strachan. try your own selves, whether ye are in the faith; prove your own selves. -- corinthians . . gracious father, help me that i may not be thoughtless and unkind. may i be gentle and sympathetic. forgive me for any unhappiness which i may have made, and may it be mine to know the rejoicing that comes hi lifting a discouraged life in time. amen. december sixteenth john selden born . françois la rochefoucauld born . george whitefield born . jane austen born . so live that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan that moves to that mysterious realm where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams. --william cullen bryant. as the wind extinguishes a taper but kindles the fire, so absence is the death of an ordinary passion, but lends strength to the greater. --la rochefoucauld. if a man die, shall he live again? --job . . heavenly father, with thy help may i enter into the hope that overcomes the fear of death. may my days be full of aspiration, and through faith may my life move toward the eternal and the sublime. amen. december seventeenth sir roger l'estrange born . ludwig van beethoven born . sir humphry davy born . john greenleaf whittier born . the night is mother of the day, the winter of the spring; and ever upon old decay the greenest mosses cling. behind the cloud the starlight lurks, through showers the sunbeams fall; for god, who loveth all his works, has left his hope with all. --john greenleaf whittier. the sun set; but not his hope: stars rose; his faith was earlier up. --ralph waldo emerson. what i am i have made myself. --sir humphry davy. therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall dwell in safety. --psalm . . my father, may i never be content to pass by thy beautiful offerings and keep on in wretched despair. save me if i may 'be inclining toward misery. give me the spirit of repose, and help me to confide in thee as i daily seek the strength of thy love. amen. december eighteenth charles wesley born . lyman abbott born . samuel rogers died . sir joseph john thomson born . and let this feeble body fail, and let it faint or die; my soul shall quit this mournful vale, and soar to worlds on high. --charles wesley. it were better to live an immortal life and be robbed of immortality hereafter by some supernal power, than to live the mortal, fleshly animal life, and live it endlessly. who would not rather have a right to immortality than to be immortal without a right to be? --lyman abbott. so when a great man dies, for years beyond our ken, the light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men. --henry w. longfellow. but he that soweth unto the spirit shall of the spirit reap eternal life. --galatians . . my father, i pray that i may be spared the deprivations that may come from years spent in selfishness. help me to realize before it is too late how little self can hold and how much remorse may accumulate. help me to aspire to ideals that compel me to live an immortal life. amen. december nineteenth gustavus adolphus born . horatio bonar born . f. delsarte born . mary a. livermore born . j.m.w. turner died . if a man is to be a pillar in the temple of his god by and by, he must be some kind of a prop in god's house to-day. we are here to support, not to be supported. no one can be a living stone on the foundations of the spiritual house which is god's habitation without being a foundation to the stones above him. --maltbie babcock. since trifles make the sum of human things, and half our misery from our foibles springs; since life's best joys consist in peace and ease, o let th' ungentle spirit learn from hence, a small unkindness is a great offense. --hannah more. he that overcometh i will make a pillar in the temple of my god, and he shall go out thence no more. --revelation . . my father, grant that i may not deceive myself and expect big results from little efforts; nor be willing to receive assistance and refuse my support. may i not only be anxious to give others all that i can, and share their burdens, but may i be glad to help make fewer burdens for others to bear. amen. december twentieth louis the dauphin died . john wilson croker born . cyrus townsend brady born . love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. o no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. it is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. --william shakespeare. i will not doubt the love untold which not my worth nor want hath bought, which wooed me young and wooes me old, and to this evening hath me brought. --henry david thoreau. yea, i have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have i drawn thee. --jeremiah . . loving father, teach me the secret of constancy, that none may ever be disappointed in me. may i not reckon what i give on recompense, but have the spirit of giving which has no measure for what it may receive in return. may i not be forgetful of thy love which will hold me to deeper reverence and devotion. amen. december twenty-first jean baptiste racine born . robert moffat born . laura bridgman born . to think and to feel constitute the two grand divisions of men and genius--the men of reasoning and the men of imagination. --disraeli. grow old along with me! the best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made: our times are in his hand who saith, a whole i planned, youth shows but half; trust god: see all, nor be afraid! --robert browning. but the path of the righteous is as the dawning light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. --proverbs . . almighty god, i pray that i may have the grace to penetrate the deep things of life and test their truth and greatness. may i have faith in thy power and train for the best which thou hast made possible for me to live. help me to think and feel aright, that i may be thine to-day, and in the days of to-morrow may i still be thine, ever keeping bright memories of past days. amen. december twenty-second franz abt born . thomas w. higginson born . george eliot died . love and pain make their own measure of all things that be. no clock's slow ticking marks their deathless strain; the life they own is not the life we see; love's single moment is eternity. --thomas w. higginson. life is made stronger giving, receiving; love is made longer hoping, believing. life is made sweeter, truly worth living; love is completer, trusting, forgiving. --m.b.s. in love of the brethren be tenderly affectioned one to another; in honor preferring one another. --romans . . loving father, i thank thee that every morn breaks in a new day without the sadness of yesterday or the gladness of to-morrow. i pray that i may not lose the love and joy that it brings to-day. amen. december twenty-third michael drayton died . robert barclay born . james sargent storer died . when heaven endows you with all gifts, you are an incomplete being if you stay still in your corner instead of taking advantage of your real value. --marie bashkirtseff. life, which ought to be a thing complete in itself, and ought to be spent partly in gathering materials, and partly in drawing inferences, is apt to be a hurried accumulation lasting to the edge of the tomb. we are put into the world, i cannot help feeling, to be rather than do. --arthur c. benson. jehovah is the strength of my life. --psalm . . heavenly father, i pray that thou wilt reverse my standards of life if i may be striving only for selfish gain. may i care for all that i could be, and may i care for where i should be found, but, most of all, may i care for what i really am. help me to keep my mind on thee that i may find delight in doing thy will. amen. december twenty-fourth george crabbe born . kit carson born . matthew arnold born . john morley born . william makepeace thackeray died . ah, friend, let us be true to one another! for the world, which seems to lie before us like a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new, hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain, and we are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night. --matthew arnold. we take care of our health, we lay up money, we make our roof tight and our clothing sufficient, but who provides wisely that we shall not be wanting in the best property of all--friends? --ralph waldo emerson. faithful are the wounds of a friend. --proverbs . . gracious lord, fill my life with the spirit of love and sacrifice. i bless thee for the deep fellowships and tender intimacies; and on the eve of this christmas ask thy blessing for all, as my heart rings with joy for those whom i love. amen. december twenty-fifth christmas day. sir isaac newton born . william collins born . father taylor born . this is the month, and this is the happy morn, wherein the son of heaven's eternal king, of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, our great redemption from above did bring. --john milton. christmas is here; winds whistle shrill, icy and chill, little care we; little we fear weather without, shelter'd about the mahogany tree. --william m. thackeray. and the angel said unto them, be not afraid; for behold, i bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the city of david a saviour, who is christ the lord. --luke . , . almighty god, i give honor and praise to express my joy for thy great love in the gift of thy son, jesus christ. with a glad heart i wish all mankind "a merry christmas," and may i ever remember, where the angels sang, "peace on earth, good will toward men." amen. december twenty-sixth thomas gray born . mrs. southworth born . stephen girard died . let not ambition mock their useful toil, their homely joys, and destiny obscure; nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile the short and simple annals of the poor. nor you, ye proud, impute to those the fault, if memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, the pealing anthem swells the note of praise. full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air. --thomas gray. jehovah, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty; neither do i exercise myself in great matters, or in things too wonderful for me. --psalm . . gracious father, give me the courage to live my life, and the endurance to overcome the disappointments that may come to me. may i not be neglectful of the great opportunities of which i am privileged to take advantage. may i not be pretentious of what i have not done, or boastful of what i am, but with my best ability live in truth. amen. december twenty-seventh jacques bernoulli born . johann kepler born . charles lamb died . there is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better or worse, as his portion; that, though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given him to till. --ralph waldo emerson. knowing ourselves, our world, our task so great, our time so brief, 'tis clear if we refuse the means so limited, the tools so rude to execute our purpose, life will fleet, and we shall fade, and leave our task undone. --robert browning. study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your hands. -- thessalonians . . lord god of life, give me the desire to learn, and the wisdom to live in my best. may i not fail to culture my mind and heart and make life productive and worthy. help me to see the mistakes that i have made in the past, and in the year that is approaching not only try to avoid them, but try to make amends for them. amen. december twenty-eighth catherine m. sedgwick born . woodrow wilson, virginia, twenty-seventh president united states, born . thomas b. macaulay died . the government might be serviceable for many things. it might assist in a hundred ways to safeguard the lives and the health and promote the comfort and happiness of the people; but it can do these things only if they respond to public opinion, only if those who lead government see the country as a whole, feel a deep thrill of intimate sympathy with every class and every interest in it. --woodrow wilson. the hearts of men are their books; events are their tutors; great actions are their eloquence. --thomas b. macaulay. be of good courage, and let us play the man for our people, and for the cities of our god: and jehovah do that which seemeth him good. -- samuel . . lord god, i pray that my estimate of life may not be as i take it, but as thou hast given it for peace and prosperity. teach me my duty to my country, and make me useful in uplifting and serving humanity. amen. december twenty-ninth thomas a becket died . andrew johnson, tennessee, seventeenth president united states, born . william e. gladstone born . margaret bottome born . pauline o. louise, queen of roumania (carmen sylva), born . christina g. rossetti died . one example is worth a thousand arguments. --william e. gladstone. one day at a time! that's all it can be no faster than that is the hardest of fate, and days have their limit, however we begin them too early or stretch them late. --j.r. miller. he lives happy and master of himself who can say, as each day passes on, i have lived! no matter whether to-morrow the great father shall give us a clouded sky or a clear day. --horace. give us this day our daily bread. --matthew . . eternal god, guard me against the love of praise, that i may not lose the sense of duty. start me for the right places and give me strength with my days, that i may press toward their possession. deliver me from drifting when it is mine to pull against the tide, that i may not be carried out of my course. shield me from the storms that may gather about me, and bring us all to the desired haven safe in thy keeping. amen. december thirtieth titus born a.d. . william r. alger born . rudyard kipling born . god of our fathers, known of old, lord of our far-flung battle line, beneath whose awful hand we hold dominion over palm and pine: lord god of hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget--lest we forget! for heathen heart that puts her trust in reeking tube and iron shard; all valiant dust that builds on dust, and guarding calls not thee to guard: for frantic boast and foolish word, thy mercy on thy people, lord! amen. --rudyard kipling. but thou shalt remember jehovah thy god, for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth. --deuteronomy . . almighty god, as i come to thee wilt thou forgive me for the errors i have made, and for the promises that i have broken. help me to be as true as the holly that keeps itself red through the snow. remind me of my opportunities as i breathe in thy blessings, "lest i forget!" amen. december thirty-first new year's eve. john wycliffe died . battle of wakefield . charles marquis cornwallis born . ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, the flying cloud, the frosty light: the year is dying in the night; ring out, wild bells, and let him die. ring out old shapes of foul disease, ring out the narrow lust of gold: ring out the thousand wars of old, ring in the thousand years of peace. --alfred tennyson. let every dawn of morning be to you as the beginning of life, and every setting sun be to you as its close. --john ruskin. the night is far spent, and the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. --romans . . my father, as i look to the past days, i feel much of my happiness and much of my misery has come from my own choice. may i be more watchful of my standards and less wasteful of my time, and keep a poise in life that will leave a memory of well-spent days. for the year that has passed and for its blessings i thank thee. amen. a book of strife in the form of the diary of an old soul by george macdonald published in . [the dedication refers to the fact that the book was originally published using only the right-hand side pages of the book, leaving the left-hand side blank to allow for and acknowledge any thoughtful reader responses.] jb dedication sweet friends, receive my offering. you will find against each worded page a white page set:-- this is the mirror of each friendly mind reflecting that. in this book we are met. make it, dear hearts, of worth to you indeed:-- let your white page be ground, my print be seed, growing to golden ears, that faith and hope shall feed. your old soul the diary of an old soul. january. . lord, what i once had done with youthful might, had i been from the first true to the truth, grant me, now old, to do--with better sight, and humbler heart, if not the brain of youth; so wilt thou, in thy gentleness and ruth, lead back thy old soul, by the path of pain, round to his best--young eyes and heart and brain. . a dim aurora rises in my east, beyond the line of jagged questions hoar, as if the head of our intombed high priest began to glow behind the unopened door: sure the gold wings will soon rise from the gray!-- they rise not. up i rise, press on the more, to meet the slow coming of the master's day. . sometimes i wake, and, lo! i have forgot, and drifted out upon an ebbing sea! my soul that was at rest now resteth not, for i am with myself and not with thee; truth seems a blind moon in a glaring morn, where nothing is but sick-heart vanity: oh, thou who knowest! save thy child forlorn. . death, like high faith, levelling, lifteth all. when i awake, my daughter and my son, grown sister and brother, in my arms shall fall, tenfold my girl and boy. sure every one of all the brood to the old wings will run. whole-hearted is my worship of the man from whom my earthly history began. . thy fishes breathe but where thy waters roll; thy birds fly but within thy airy sea; my soul breathes only in thy infinite soul; i breathe, i think, i love, i live but thee. oh breathe, oh think,--o love, live into me; unworthy is my life till all divine, till thou see in me only what is thine. . then shall i breathe in sweetest sharing, then think in harmonious consort with my kin; then shall i love well all my father's men, feel one with theirs the life my heart within. oh brothers! sisters holy! hearts divine! then i shall be all yours, and nothing mine-- to every human heart a mother-twin. . i see a child before an empty house, knocking and knocking at the closed door; he wakes dull echoes--but nor man nor mouse, if he stood knocking there for evermore.-- a mother angel, see! folding each wing, soft-walking, crosses straight the empty floor, and opens to the obstinate praying thing. . were there but some deep, holy spell, whereby always i should remember thee--some mode of feeling the pure heat-throb momently of the spirit-fire still uttering this i!-- lord, see thou to it, take thou remembrance' load: only when i bethink me can i cry; remember thou, and prick me with love's goad. . if to myself--"god sometimes interferes"-- i said, my faith at once would be struck blind. i see him all in all, the lifing mind, or nowhere in the vacant miles and years. a love he is that watches and that hears, or but a mist fumed up from minds of men, whose fear and hope reach out beyond their ken. . when i no more can stir my soul to move, and life is but the ashes of a fire; when i can but remember that my heart once used to live and love, long and aspire,-- oh, be thou then the first, the one thou art; be thou the calling, before all answering love, and in me wake hope, fear, boundless desire. . i thought that i had lost thee; but, behold! thou comest to me from the horizon low, across the fields outspread of green and gold-- fair carpet for thy feet to come and go. whence i know not, or how to me thou art come!-- not less my spirit with calm bliss doth glow, meeting thee only thus, in nature vague and dumb. . doubt swells and surges, with swelling doubt behind! my soul in storm is but a tattered sail, streaming its ribbons on the torrent gale; in calm, 'tis but a limp and flapping thing: oh! swell it with thy breath; make it a wing,-- to sweep through thee the ocean, with thee the wind nor rest until in thee its haven it shall find. . the idle flapping of the sail is doubt; faith swells it full to breast the breasting seas. bold, conscience, fast, and rule the ruling helm; hell's freezing north no tempest can send out, but it shall toss thee homeward to thy leas; boisterous wave-crest never shall o'erwhelm thy sea-float bark as safe as field-borne rooted elm. . sometimes, hard-trying, it seems i cannot pray-- for doubt, and pain, and anger, and all strife. yet some poor half-fledged prayer-bird from the nest may fall, flit, fly, perch--crouch in the bowery breast of the large, nation-healing tree of life;-- moveless there sit through all the burning day, and on my heart at night a fresh leaf cooling lay. . my harvest withers. health, my means to live-- all things seem rushing straight into the dark. but the dark still is god. i would not give the smallest silver-piece to turn the rush backward or sideways. am i not a spark of him who is the light?--fair hope doth flush my east.--divine success--oh, hush and hark! . thy will be done. i yield up everything. "the life is more than meat"--then more than health; "the body more than raiment"--then than wealth; the hairs i made not, thou art numbering. thou art my life--i the brook, thou the spring. because thine eyes are open, i can see; because thou art thyself, 'tis therefore i am me. . no sickness can come near to blast my health; my life depends not upon any meat; my bread comes not from any human tilth; no wings will grow upon my changeless wealth; wrong cannot touch it, violence or deceit; thou art my life, my health, my bank, my barn-- and from all other gods thou plain dost warn. . care thou for mine whom i must leave behind; care that they know who 'tis for them takes care; thy present patience help them still to bear; lord, keep them clearing, growing, heart and mind; in one thy oneness us together bind; last earthly prayer with which to thee i cling-- grant that, save love, we owe not anything. . 'tis well, for unembodied thought a live, true house to build--of stubble, wood, nor hay; so, like bees round the flower by which they thrive, my thoughts are busy with the informing truth, and as i build, i feed, and grow in youth-- hoping to stand fresh, clean, and strong, and gay, when up the east comes dawning his great day. . thy will is truth--'tis therefore fate, the strong. would that my will did sweep full swing with thine! then harmony with every spheric song, and conscious power, would give sureness divine. who thinks to thread thy great laws' onward throng, is as a fly that creeps his foolish way athwart an engine's wheels in smooth resistless play. . thou in my heart hast planted, gardener divine, a scion of the tree of life: it grows; but not in every wind or weather it blows; the leaves fall sometimes from the baby tree, and the life-power seems melting into pine; yet still the sap keeps struggling to the shine, and the unseen root clings cramplike unto thee. . do thou, my god, my spirit's weather control; and as i do not gloom though the day be dun, let me not gloom when earth-born vapours roll across the infinite zenith of my soul. should sudden brain-frost through the heart's summer run, cold, weary, joyless, waste of air and sun, thou art my south, my summer-wind, my all, my one. . o life, why dost thou close me up in death? o health, why make me inhabit heaviness?-- i ask, yet know: the sum of this distress, pang-haunted body, sore-dismayed mind, is but the egg that rounds the winged faith; when that its path into the air shall find, my heart will follow, high above cold, rain, and wind. . i can no more than lift my weary eyes; therefore i lift my weary eyes--no more. but my eyes pull my heart, and that, before 'tis well awake, knocks where the conscience lies; conscience runs quick to the spirit's hidden door: straightway, from every sky-ward window, cries up to the father's listening ears arise. . not in my fancy now i search to find thee; not in its loftiest forms would shape or bind thee; i cry to one whom i can never know, filling me with an infinite overflow; not to a shape that dwells within my heart, clothed in perfections love and truth assigned thee, but to the god thou knowest that thou art. . not, lord, because i have done well or ill; not that my mind looks up to thee clear-eyed; not that it struggles in fast cerements tied; not that i need thee daily sorer still; not that i wretched, wander from thy will; not now for any cause to thee i cry, but this, that thou art thou, and here am i. . yestereve, death came, and knocked at my thin door. i from my window looked: the thing i saw, the shape uncouth, i had not seen before. i was disturbed--with fear, in sooth, not awe; whereof ashamed, i instantly did rouse my will to seek thee--only to fear the more: alas! i could not find thee in the house. . i was like peter when he began to sink. to thee a new prayer therefore i have got-- that, when death comes in earnest to my door, thou wouldst thyself go, when the latch doth clink, and lead him to my room, up to my cot; then hold thy child's hand, hold and leave him not, till death has done with him for evermore. . till death has done with him?--ah, leave me then! and death has done with me, oh, nevermore! he comes--and goes--to leave me in thy arms, nearer thy heart, oh, nearer than before! to lay thy child, naked, new-born again of mother earth, crept free through many harms, upon thy bosom--still to the very core. . come to me, lord: i will not speculate how, nor think at which door i would have thee appear, nor put off calling till my floors be swept, but cry, "come, lord, come any way, come now." doors, windows, i throw wide; my head i bow, and sit like some one who so long has slept that he knows nothing till his life draw near. . o lord, i have been talking to the people; thought's wheels have round me whirled a fiery zone, and the recoil of my words' airy ripple my heart unheedful has puffed up and blown. therefore i cast myself before thee prone: lay cool hands on my burning brain, and press from my weak heart the swelling emptiness. february. . i to myself have neither power nor worth, patience nor love, nor anything right good; my soul is a poor land, plenteous in dearth-- here blades of grass, there a small herb for food-- a nothing that would be something if it could; but if obedience, lord, in me do grow, i shall one day be better than i know. . the worst power of an evil mood is this-- it makes the bastard self seem in the right, self, self the end, the goal of human bliss. but if the christ-self in us be the might of saving god, why should i spend my force with a dark thing to reason of the light-- not push it rough aside, and hold obedient course? . back still it comes to this: there was a man who said, "i am the truth, the life, the way:"-- shall i pass on, or shall i stop and hear?-- "come to the father but by me none can:" what then is this?--am i not also one of those who live in fatherless dismay? i stand, i look, i listen, i draw near. . my lord, i find that nothing else will do, but follow where thou goest, sit at thy feet, and where i have thee not, still run to meet. roses are scentless, hopeless are the morns, rest is but weakness, laughter crackling thorns, if thou, the truth, do not make them the true: thou art my life, o christ, and nothing else will do. . thou art here--in heaven, i know, but not from here-- although thy separate self do not appear; if i could part the light from out the day, there i should have thee! but thou art too near: how find thee walking, when thou art the way? oh, present christ! make my eyes keen as stings, to see thee at their heart, the glory even of things. . that thou art nowhere to be found, agree wise men, whose eyes are but for surfaces; men with eyes opened by the second birth, to whom the seen, husk of the unseen is, descry thee soul of everything on earth. who know thy ends, thy means and motions see: eyes made for glory soon discover thee. . thou near then, i draw nearer--to thy feet, and sitting in thy shadow, look out on the shine; ready at thy first word to leave my seat-- not thee: thou goest too. from every clod into thy footprint flows the indwelling wine; and in my daily bread, keen-eyed i greet its being's heart, the very body of god. . thou wilt interpret life to me, and men, art, nature, yea, my own soul's mysteries-- bringing, truth out, clear-joyous, to my ken, fair as the morn trampling the dull night. then the lone hill-side shall hear exultant cries; the joyous see me joy, the weeping weep; the watching smile, as death breathes on me his cold sleep. . i search my heart--i search, and find no faith. hidden he may be in its many folds-- i see him not revealed in all the world duty's firm shape thins to a misty wraith. no good seems likely. to and fro i am hurled. i have no stay. only obedience holds:-- i haste, i rise, i do the thing he saith. . thou wouldst not have thy man crushed back to clay; it must be, god, thou hast a strength to give to him that fain would do what thou dost say; else how shall any soul repentant live, old griefs and new fears hurrying on dismay? let pain be what thou wilt, kind and degree, only in pain calm thou my heart with thee. . i will not shift my ground like moab's king, but from this spot whereon i stand, i pray-- from this same barren rock to thee i say, "lord, in my commonness, in this very thing that haunts my soul with folly--through the clay of this my pitcher, see the lamp's dim flake; and hear the blow that would the pitcher break." . be thou the well by which i lie and rest; be thou my tree of life, my garden ground; be thou my home, my fire, my chamber blest, my book of wisdom, loved of all the best; oh, be my friend, each day still newer found, as the eternal days and nights go round! nay, nay--thou art my god, in whom all loves are bound! . two things at once, thou know'st i cannot think. when busy with the work thou givest me, i cannot consciously think then of thee. then why, when next thou lookest o'er the brink of my horizon, should my spirit shrink, reproached and fearful, nor to greet thee run? can i be two when i am only one. . my soul must unawares have sunk awry. some care, poor eagerness, ambition of work, some old offence that unforgiving did lurk, or some self-gratulation, soft and sly-- something not thy sweet will, not the good part, while the home-guard looked out, stirred up the old murk, and so i gloomed away from thee, my heart. . therefore i make provision, ere i begin to do the thing thou givest me to do, praying,--lord, wake me oftener, lest i sin. amidst my work, open thine eyes on me, that i may wake and laugh, and know and see then with healed heart afresh catch up the clue, and singing drop into my work anew. . if i should slow diverge, and listless stray into some thought, feeling, or dream unright, o watcher, my backsliding soul affray; let me not perish of the ghastly blight. be thou, o life eternal, in me light; then merest approach of selfish or impure shall start me up alive, awake, secure. . lord, i have fallen again--a human clod! selfish i was, and heedless to offend; stood on my rights. thy own child would not send away his shreds of nothing for the whole god! wretched, to thee who savest, low i bend: give me the power to let my rag-rights go in the great wind that from thy gulf doth blow. . keep me from wrath, let it seem ever so right: my wrath will never work thy righteousness. up, up the hill, to the whiter than snow-shine, help me to climb, and dwell in pardon's light. i must be pure as thou, or ever less than thy design of me--therefore incline my heart to take men's wrongs as thou tak'st mine. . lord, in thy spirit's hurricane, i pray, strip my soul naked--dress it then thy way. change for me all my rags to cloth of gold. who would not poverty for riches yield? a hovel sell to buy a treasure-field? who would a mess of porridge careful hold against the universe's birthright old? . help me to yield my will, in labour even, nor toil on toil, greedy of doing, heap-- fretting i cannot more than me is given; that with the finest clay my wheel runs slow, nor lets the lovely thing the shapely grow; that memory what thought gives it cannot keep, and nightly rimes ere morn like cistus-petals go. . 'tis--shall thy will be done for me?--or mine, and i be made a thing not after thine-- my own, and dear in paltriest details? shall i be born of god, or of mere man? be made like christ, or on some other plan?-- i let all run:--set thou and trim my sails; home then my course, let blow whatever gales. . with thee on board, each sailor is a king nor i mere captain of my vessel then, but heir of earth and heaven, eternal child; daring all truth, nor fearing anything; mighty in love, the servant of all men; resenting nothing, taking rage and blare into the godlike silence of a loving care. . i cannot see, my god, a reason why from morn to night i go not gladsome free; for, if thou art what my soul thinketh thee, there is no burden but should lightly lie, no duty but a joy at heart must be: love's perfect will can be nor sore nor small, for god is light--in him no darkness is at all. . 'tis something thus to think, and half to trust-- but, ah! my very heart, god-born, should lie spread to the light, clean, clear of mire and rust, and like a sponge drink the divine sunbeams. what resolution then, strong, swift, and high! what pure devotion, or to live or die! and in my sleep, what true, what perfect dreams! . there is a misty twilight of the soul, a sickly eclipse, low brooding o'er a man, when the poor brain is as an empty bowl, and the thought-spirit, weariful and wan, turning from that which yet it loves the best, sinks moveless, with life-poverty opprest:-- watch then, o lord, thy feebly glimmering coal. . i cannot think; in me is but a void; i have felt much, and want to feel no more; my soul is hungry for some poorer fare-- some earthly nectar, gold not unalloyed:-- the little child that's happy to the core, will leave his mother's lap, run down the stair, play with the servants--is his mother annoyed? . i would not have it so. weary and worn, why not to thee run straight, and be at rest? motherward, with toy new, or garment torn, the child that late forsook her changeless breast, runs to home's heart, the heaven that's heavenliest: in joy or sorrow, feebleness or might, peace or commotion, be thou, father, my delight. . the thing i would say, still comes forth with doubt and difference:--is it that thou shap'st my ends? or is it only the necessity of stubborn words, that shift sluggish about, warping my thought as it the sentence bends?-- have thou a part in it, o lord, and i shall say a truth, if not the thing i try. . gather my broken fragments to a whole, as these four quarters make a shining day. into thy basket, for my golden bowl, take up the things that i have cast away in vice or indolence or unwise play. let mine be a merry, all-receiving heart, but make it a whole, with light in every part. march. . the song birds that come to me night and morn, fly oft away and vanish if i sleep, nor to my fowling-net will one return: is the thing ever ours we cannot keep?-- but their souls go not out into the deep. what matter if with changed song they come back? old strength nor yet fresh beauty shall they lack. . gloriously wasteful, o my lord, art thou! sunset faints after sunset into the night, splendorously dying from thy window-sill-- for ever. sad our poverty doth bow before the riches of thy making might: sweep from thy space thy systems at thy will-- in thee the sun sets every sunset still. . and in the perfect time, o perfect god, when we are in our home, our natal home, when joy shall carry every sacred load, and from its life and peace no heart shall roam, what if thou make us able to make like thee-- to light with moons, to clothe with greenery, to hang gold sunsets o'er a rose and purple sea! . then to his neighbour one may call out, "come! brother, come hither--i would show you a thing;" and lo, a vision of his imagining, informed of thought which else had rested dumb, before the neighbour's truth-delighted eyes, in the great æther of existence rise, and two hearts each to each the closer cling! . we make, but thou art the creating core. whatever thing i dream, invent, or feel, thou art the heart of it, the atmosphere. thou art inside all love man ever bore; yea, the love itself, whatever thing be dear. man calls his dog, he follows at his heel, because thou first art love, self-caused, essential, mere. . this day be with me, lord, when i go forth, be nearer to me than i am able to ask. in merriment, in converse, or in task, walking the street, listening to men of worth, or greeting such as only talk and bask, be thy thought still my waiting soul around, and if he come, i shall be watching found. . what if, writing, i always seem to leave some better thing, or better way, behind, why should i therefore fret at all, or grieve! the worse i drop, that i the better find; the best is only in thy perfect mind. fallen threads i will not search for--i will weave. who makes the mill-wheel backward strike to grind! . be with me, lord. keep me beyond all prayers: for more than all my prayers my need of thee, and thou beyond all need, all unknown cares; what the heart's dear imagination dares, thou dost transcend in measureless majesty all prayers in one--my god, be unto me thy own eternal self, absolutely. . where should the unknown treasures of the truth lie, but there whence the truth comes out the most-- in the son of man, folded in love and ruth? fair shore we see, fair ocean; but behind lie infinite reaches bathing many a coast-- the human thought of the eternal mind, pulsed by a living tide, blown by a living wind. . thou, healthful father, art the ancient of days, and jesus is the eternal youth of thee. our old age is the scorching of the bush by life's indwelling, incorruptible blaze. o life, burn at this feeble shell of me, till i the sore singed garment off shall push, flap out my psyche wings, and to thee rush. . but shall i then rush to thee like a dart? or lie long hours æonian yet betwixt this hunger in me, and the father's heart?-- it shall be good, how ever, and not ill; of things and thoughts even now thou art my next; sole neighbour, and no space between, thou art-- and yet art drawing nearer, nearer still. . therefore, my brothers, therefore, sisters dear, however i, troubled or selfish, fail in tenderness, or grace, or service clear, i every moment draw to you more near; god in us from our hearts veil after veil keeps lifting, till we see with his own sight, and all together run in unity's delight. . i love thee, lord, for very greed of love-- not of the precious streams that towards me move, but of the indwelling, outgoing, fountain store. than mine, oh, many an ignorant heart loves more! therefore the more, with mary at thy feet, i must sit worshipping--that, in my core, thy words may fan to a flame the low primeval heat. . oh my beloved, gone to heaven from me! i would be rich in love to heap you with love; i long to love you, sweet ones, perfectly-- like god, who sees no spanning vault above, no earth below, and feels no circling air-- infinitely, no boundary anywhere. i am a beast until i love as god doth love. . ah, say not, 'tis but perfect self i want but if it were, that self is fit to live whose perfectness is still itself to scant, which never longs to have, but still to give. a self i must have, or not be at all: love, give me a self self-giving--or let me fall to endless darkness back, and free me from life's thrall. . "back," said i! whither back? how to the dark? from no dark came i, but the depths of light; from the sun-heart i came, of love a spark: what should i do but love with all my might? to die of love severe and pure and stark, were scarcely loss; to lord a loveless height-- that were a living death, damnation's positive night. . but love is life. to die of love is then the only pass to higher life than this. all love is death to loving, living men; all deaths are leaps across clefts to the abyss. our life is the broken current, lord, of thine, flashing from morn to morn with conscious shine-- then first by willing death self-made, then life divine. . i love you, my sweet children, who are gone into another mansion; but i know i love you not as i shall love you yet. i love you, sweet dead children; there are none in the land to which ye vanished to go, whose hearts more truly on your hearts are set-- yet should i die of grief to love you only so. . "i am but as a beast before thee, lord."-- great poet-king, i thank thee for the word.-- leave not thy son half-made in beastly guise-- less than a man, with more than human cries-- an unshaped thing in which thyself cries out! finish me, father; now i am but a doubt; oh! make thy moaning thing for joy to leap and shout. . let my soul talk to thee in ordered words, o king of kings, o lord of only lords!-- when i am thinking thee within my heart, from the broken reflex be not far apart. the troubled water, dim with upstirred soil, makes not the image which it yet can spoil:-- come nearer, lord, and smooth the wrinkled coil. . o lord, when i do think of my departed, i think of thee who art the death of parting; of him who crying father breathed his last, then radiant from the sepulchre upstarted.-- even then, i think, thy hands and feet kept smarting: with us the bitterness of death is past, but by the feet he still doth hold us fast. . therefore our hands thy feet do hold as fast. we pray not to be spared the sorest pang, but only--be thou with us to the last. let not our heart be troubled at the clang of hammer and nails, nor dread the spear's keen fang, nor the ghast sickening that comes of pain, nor yet the last clutch of the banished brain. . lord, pity us: we have no making power; then give us making will, adopting thine. make, make, and make us; temper, and refine. be in us patience--neither to start nor cower. christ, if thou be not with us--not by sign, but presence, actual as the wounds that bleed-- we shall not bear it, but shall die indeed. . o christ, have pity on all men when they come unto the border haunted of dismay; when that they know not draweth very near-- the other thing, the opposite of day, formless and ghastly, sick, and gaping-dumb, before which even love doth lose his cheer: o radiant christ, remember then thy fear. . be by me, lord, this day. thou know'st i mean-- lord, make me mind thee. i herewith forestall my own forgetfulness, when i stoop to glean the corn of earth--which yet thy hand lets fall. be for me then against myself. oh lean over me then when i invert my cup; take me, if by the hair, and lift me up. . lord of essential life, help me to die. to will to die is one with highest life, the mightiest act that to will's hand doth lie-- born of god's essence, and of man's hard strife: god, give me strength my evil self to kill, and die into the heaven of thy pure will.-- then shall this body's death be very tolerable. . as to our mothers came help in our birth-- not lost in lifing us, but saved and blest-- self bearing self, although right sorely prest, shall nothing lose, but die and be at rest in life eternal, beyond all care and dearth. god-born then truly, a man does no more ill, perfectly loves, and has whate'er he will. . as our dear animals do suffer less because their pain spreads neither right nor left, lost in oblivion and foresightlessness-- our suffering sore by faith shall be bereft of all dismay, and every weak excess. his presence shall be better in our pain, than even self-absence to the weaker brain. . "father, let this cup pass." he prayed--was heard. what cup was it that passed away from him? sure not the death-cup, now filled to the brim! there was no quailing in the awful word; he still was king of kings, of lords the lord:-- he feared lest, in the suffering waste and grim, his faith might grow too faint and sickly dim. . thy mind, my master, i will dare explore; what we are told, that we are meant to know. into thy soul i search yet more and more, led by the lamp of my desire and woe. if thee, my lord, i may not understand, i am a wanderer in a houseless land, a weeping thirst by hot winds ever fanned. . therefore i look again--and think i see that, when at last he did cry out, "my god, why hast thou me forsaken?" straight man's rod was turned aside; for, that same moment, he cried "father!" and gave up will and breath and spirit into his hands whose all he did inherit-- delivered, glorified eternally. april. . lord, i do choose the higher than my will. i would be handled by thy nursing arms after thy will, not my infant alarms. hurt me thou wilt--but then more loving still, if more can be and less, in love's perfect zone! my fancy shrinks from least of all thy harms, but do thy will with me--i am thine own. . some things wilt thou not one day turn to dreams? some dreams wilt thou not one day turn to fact? the thing that painful, more than should be, seems, shall not thy sliding years with them retract-- shall fair realities not counteract? the thing that was well dreamed of bliss and joy-- wilt thou not breathe thy life into the toy? . i have had dreams of absolute delight, beyond all waking bliss--only of grass, flowers, wind, a peak, a limb of marble white; they dwell with me like things half come to pass, true prophecies:--when i with thee am right, if i pray, waking, for such a joy of sight, thou with the gold, wilt not refuse the brass. . i think i shall not ever pray for such; thy bliss will overflood my heart and brain, and i want no unripe things back again. love ever fresher, lovelier than of old-- how should it want its more exchanged for much? love will not backward sigh, but forward strain, on in the tale still telling, never told. . what has been, shall not only be, but is. the hues of dreamland, strange and sweet and tender are but hint-shadows of full many a splendour which the high parent-love will yet unroll before his child's obedient, humble soul. ah, me, my god! in thee lies every bliss whose shadow men go hunting wearily amiss. . now, ere i sleep, i wonder what i shall dream. some sense of being, utter new, may come into my soul while i am blind and dumb-- with shapes and airs and scents which dark hours teem, of other sort than those that haunt the day, hinting at precious things, ages away in the long tale of us god to himself doth say. . late, in a dream, an unknown lady i saw stand on a tomb; down she to me stepped thence. "they tell me," quoth i, "thou art one of the dead!" and scarce believed for gladness the yea she said; a strange auroral bliss, an arctic awe, a new, outworldish joy awoke intense, to think i talked with one that verily was dead. . thou dost demand our love, holy lord christ, and batest nothing of thy modesty;-- thou know'st no other way to bliss the highest than loving thee, the loving, perfectly. thou lovest perfectly--that is thy bliss: we must love like thee, or our being miss-- so, to love perfectly, love perfect love, love thee. . here is my heart, o christ; thou know'st i love thee. but wretched is the thing i call my love. o love divine, rise up in me and move me-- i follow surely when thou first dost move. to love the perfect love, is primal, mere necessity; and he who holds life dear, must love thee every hope and heart above. . might i but scatter interfering things-- questions and doubts, distrusts and anxious pride, and in thy garment, as under gathering wings, nestle obedient to thy loving side, easy it were to love thee. but when thou send'st me to think and labour from thee wide, love falls to asking many a why and how. . easier it were, but poorer were the love. lord, i would have me love thee from the deeps-- of troubled thought, of pain, of weariness. through seething wastes below, billows above, my soul should rise in eager, hungering leaps; through thorny thicks, through sands unstable press-- out of my dream to him who slumbers not nor sleeps. . i do not fear the greatness of thy command-- to keep heart-open-house to brother men; but till in thy god's love perfect i stand, my door not wide enough will open. then each man will be love-awful in my sight; and, open to the eternal morning's might, each human face will shine my window for thy light. . make me all patience and all diligence; patience, that thou mayst have thy time with me; diligence, that i waste not thy expense in sending out to bring me home to thee. what though thy work in me transcends my sense-- too fine, too high, for me to understand-- i hope entirely. on, lord, with thy labour grand. . lest i be humbled at the last, and told that my great labour was but for my peace that not for love or truth had i been bold, but merely for a prisoned heart's release; careful, i humble me now before thy feet: whate'er i be, i cry, and will not cease-- let me not perish, though favour be not meet. . for, what i seek thou knowest i must find, or miserably die for lack of love. i justify thee: what is in thy mind, if it be shame to me, all shame above. thou know'st i choose it--know'st i would not shove the hand away that stripped me for the rod-- if so it pleased my life, my love-made-angry god. . i see a door, a multitude near by, in creed and quarrel, sure disciples all! gladly they would, they say, enter the hall, but cannot, the stone threshold is so high. from unseen hand, full many a feeding crumb, slow dropping o'er the threshold high doth come: they gather and eat, with much disputing hum. . still and anon, a loud clear voice doth call-- "make your feet clean, and enter so the hall." they hear, they stoop, they gather each a crumb. oh the deaf people! would they were also dumb! hear how they talk, and lack of christ deplore, stamping with muddy feet about the door, and will not wipe them clean to walk upon his floor! . but see, one comes; he listens to the voice; careful he wipes his weary dusty feet! the voice hath spoken--to him is left no choice; he hurries to obey--that only is meet. low sinks the threshold, levelled with the ground; the man leaps in--to liberty he's bound. the rest go talking, walking, picking round. . if i, thus writing, rebuke my neighbour dull, and talk, and write, and enter not the door, than all the rest i wrong christ tenfold more, making his gift of vision void and null. help me this day to be thy humble sheep, eating thy grass, and following, thou before; from wolfish lies my life, o shepherd, keep. . god, help me, dull of heart, to trust in thee. thou art the father of me--not any mood can part me from the one, the verily good. when fog and failure o'er my being brood. when life looks but a glimmering marshy clod, no fire out flashing from the living god-- then, then, to rest in faith were worthy victory! . to trust is gain and growth, not mere sown seed! faith heaves the world round to the heavenly dawn, in whose great light the soul doth spell and read itself high-born, its being derived and drawn from the eternal self-existent fire; then, mazed with joy of its own heavenly breed, exultant-humble falls before its awful sire. . art thou not, jesus, busy like to us? thee shall i image as one sitting still, ordering all things in thy potent will, silent, and thinking ever to thy father, whose thought through thee flows multitudinous? or shall i think of thee as journeying, rather, ceaseless through space, because thou everything dost fill? . that all things thou dost fill, i well may think-- thy power doth reach me in so many ways. thou who in one the universe dost bind, passest through all the channels of my mind; the sun of thought, across the farthest brink of consciousness thou sendest me thy rays; nor drawest them in when lost in sleep i sink. . so common are thy paths, thy coming seems only another phase oft of my me; but nearer is my i, o lord, to thee, than is my i to what itself it deems; how better then couldst thou, o master, come, than from thy home across into my home, straight o'er the marches that i cannot see! . marches?--'twixt thee and me there's no division, except the meeting of thy will and mine, the loves that love, the wills that will the same. where thine meets mine is my life's true condition; yea, only there it burns with any flame. thy will but holds me to my life's fruition. o god, i would--i have no mine that is not thine. . i look for thee, and do not see thee come.-- if i could see thee, 'twere a commoner thing, and shallower comfort would thy coming bring. earth, sea, and air lie round me moveless dumb, never a tremble, an expectant hum, to tell the lord of hearts is drawing near: lo! in the looking eyes, the looked for lord is here. . i take a comfort from my very badness: it is for lack of thee that i am bad. how close, how infinitely closer yet must i come to thee, ere i can pay one debt which mere humanity has on me set! "how close to thee!"--no wonder, soul, thou art glad! oneness with him is the eternal gladness. . what can there be so close as making and made? nought twinned can be so near; thou art more nigh to me, my god, than is this thinking i to that i mean when i by me is said; thou art more near me, than is my ready will near to my love, though both one place do fill;-- yet, till we are one,--ah me! the long until! . then shall my heart behold thee everywhere. the vision rises of a speechless thing, a perfectness of bliss beyond compare! a time when i nor breathe nor think nor move, but i do breathe and think and feel thy love, the soul of all the songs the saints do sing!-- and life dies out in bliss, to come again in prayer. . in the great glow of that great love, this death would melt away like a fantastic cloud; i should no more shrink from it than from the breath that makes in the frosty air a nimbus-shroud; thou, love, hast conquered death, and i aloud should triumph over him, with thy saintly crowd, that where the lamb goes ever followeth. may. . what though my words glance sideways from the thing which i would utter in thine ear, my sire! truth in the inward parts thou dost desire-- wise hunger, not a fitness fine of speech: the little child that clamouring fails to reach with upstretched hand the fringe of her attire, yet meets the mother's hand down hurrying. . even when their foolish words they turned on him, he did not his disciples send away; he knew their hearts were foolish, eyes were dim, and therefore by his side needs must they stay. thou will not, lord, send me away from thee. when i am foolish, make thy cock crow grim; if that is not enough, turn, lord, and look on me. . another day of gloom and slanting rain! of closed skies, cold winds, and blight and bane! such not the weather, lord, which thou art fain to give thy chosen, sweet to heart and brain!-- until we mourn, thou keep'st the merry tune; thy hand unloved its pleasure must restrain, nor spoil both gift and child by lavishing too soon. . but all things shall be ours! up, heart, and sing. all things were made for us--we are god's heirs-- moon, sun, and wildest comets that do trail a crowd of small worlds for a swiftness-tail! up from thy depths in me, my child-heart bring-- the child alone inherits anything: god's little children-gods--all things are theirs! . thy great deliverance is a greater thing than purest imagination can foregrasp; a thing beyond all conscious hungering, beyond all hope that makes the poet sing. it takes the clinging world, undoes its clasp, floats it afar upon a mighty sea, and leaves us quiet with love and liberty and thee. . through all the fog, through all earth's wintery sighs, i scent thy spring, i feel the eternal air, warm, soft, and dewy, filled with flowery eyes, and gentle, murmuring motions everywhere-- of life in heart, and tree, and brook, and moss; thy breath wakes beauty, love, and bliss, and prayer, and strength to hang with nails upon thy cross. . if thou hadst closed my life in seed and husk, and cast me into soft, warm, damp, dark mould, all unaware of light come through the dusk, i yet should feel the split of each shelly fold, should feel the growing of my prisoned heart, and dully dream of being slow unrolled, and in some other vagueness taking part. . and little as the world i should foreknow up into which i was about to rise-- its rains, its radiance, airs, and warmth, and skies, how it would greet me, how its wind would blow-- as little, it may be, i do know the good which i for years half darkling have pursued-- the second birth for which my nature cries. . the life that knows not, patient waits, nor longs:-- i know, and would be patient, yet would long. i can be patient for all coming songs, but let me sing my one monotonous song. to me the time is slow my mould among; to quicker life i fain would spur and start the aching growth at my dull-swelling heart. . christ is the pledge that i shall one day see; that one day, still with him, i shall awake, and know my god, at one with him and free. o lordly essence, come to life in me; the will-throb let me feel that doth me make; now have i many a mighty hope in thee, then shall i rest although the universe should quake. . haste to me, lord, when this fool-heart of mine begins to gnaw itself with selfish craving; or, like a foul thing scarcely worth the saving, swoln up with wrath, desireth vengeance fine. haste, lord, to help, when reason favours wrong; haste when thy soul, the high-born thing divine, is torn by passion's raving, maniac throng. . fair freshness of the god-breathed spirit air, pass through my soul, and make it strong to love; wither with gracious cold what demons dare shoot from my hell into my world above; let them drop down, like leaves the sun doth sear, and flutter far into the inane and bare, leaving my middle-earth calm, wise, and clear. . even thou canst give me neither thought nor thing, were it the priceless pearl hid in the land, which, if i fix thereon a greedy gaze, becomes not poison that doth burn and cling; their own bad look my foolish eyes doth daze, they see the gift, see not the giving hand-- from the living root the apple dead i wring. . this versing, even the reading of the tale that brings my heart its joy unspeakable, sometimes will softly, unsuspectedly hale that heart from thee, and all its pulses quell. discovery's pride, joy's bliss, take aback my sail, and sweep me from thy presence and my grace, because my eyes dropped from the master's face. . afresh i seek thee. lead me--once more i pray-- even should it be against my will, thy way. let me not feel thee foreign any hour, or shrink from thee as an estranged power. through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through stark dismay, through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower, draw me to thee who art my only day. . i would go near thee--but i cannot press into thy presence--it helps not to presume. thy doors are deeds; the handles are their doing. he whose day-life is obedient righteousness, who, after failure, or a poor success, rises up, stronger effort yet renewing-- he finds thee, lord, at length, in his own common room. . lord, thou hast carried me through this evening's duty; i am released, weary, and well content. o soul, put on the evening dress of beauty, thy sunset-flush, of gold and purple blent!-- alas, the moment i turn to my heart, feeling runs out of doors, or stands apart! but such as i am, lord, take me as thou art. . the word he then did speak, fits now as then, for the same kind of men doth mock at it. god-fools, god-drunkards these do call the men who think the poverty of their all not fit, borne humbly by their art, their voice, their pen, save for its allness, at thy feet to fling, for whom all is unfit that is not everything. . o christ, my life, possess me utterly. take me and make a little christ of me. if i am anything but thy father's son, 'tis something not yet from the darkness won. oh, give me light to live with open eyes. oh, give me life to hope above all skies. give me thy spirit to haunt the father with my cries. . 'tis hard for man to rouse his spirit up-- it is the human creative agony, though but to hold the heart an empty cup, or tighten on the team the rigid rein. many will rather lie among the slain than creep through narrow ways the light to gain-- than wake the will, and be born bitterly. . but he who would be born again indeed, must wake his soul unnumbered times a day, and urge himself to life with holy greed; now ope his bosom to the wind's free play; and now, with patience forceful, hard, lie still, submiss and ready to the making will, athirst and empty, for god's breath to fill. . all times are thine whose will is our remede. man turns to thee, thou hast not turned away; the look he casts, thy labour that did breed-- it is thy work, thy business all the day: that look, not foregone fitness, thou dost heed. for duty absolute how be fitter than now? or learn by shunning?--lord, i come; help thou. . ever above my coldness and my doubt rises up something, reaching forth a hand: this thing i know, but cannot understand. is it the god in me that rises out beyond my self, trailing it up with him, towards the spirit-home, the freedom-land, beyond my conscious ken, my near horizon's brim? . o god of man, my heart would worship all my fellow men, the flashes from thy fire; them in good sooth my lofty kindred call, born of the same one heart, the perfect sire; love of my kind alone can set me free; help me to welcome all that come to me, not close my doors and dream solitude liberty! . a loving word may set some door ajar where seemed no door, and that may enter in which lay at the heart of that same loving word. in my still chamber dwell thou always, lord; thy presence there will carriage true afford; true words will flow, pure of design to win; and to my men my door shall have no bar. . my prayers, my god, flow from what i am not; i think thy answers make me what i am. like weary waves thought follows upon thought, but the still depth beneath is all thine own, and there thou mov'st in paths to us unknown. out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought; if the lion in us pray--thou answerest the lamb. . so bound in selfishness am i, so chained, i know it must be glorious to be free but know not what, full-fraught, the word doth mean. by loss on loss i have severely gained wisdom enough my slavery to see; but liberty, pure, absolute, serene, no freëst-visioned slave has ever seen. . for, that great freedom how should such as i be able to imagine in such a self? less hopeless far the miser man might try to image the delight of friend-shared pelf. freedom is to be like thee, face and heart; to know it, lord, i must be as thou art, i cannot breed the imagination high. . yet hints come to me from the realm unknown; airs drift across the twilight border land, odoured with life; and as from some far strand sea-murmured, whispers to my heart are blown that fill me with a joy i cannot speak, yea, from whose shadow words drop faint and weak: thee, god, i shadow in that region grand. . o christ, who didst appear in judah land, thence by the cross go back to god's right hand, plain history, and things our sense beyond, in thee together come and correspond: how rulest thou from the undiscovered bourne the world-wise world that laughs thee still to scorn? please, lord, let thy disciple understand. . 'tis heart on heart thou rulest. thou art the same at god's right hand as here exposed to shame, and therefore workest now as thou didst then-- feeding the faint divine in humble men. through all thy realms from thee goes out heart-power, working the holy, satisfying hour, when all shall love, and all be loved again. june. . from thine, as then, the healing virtue goes into our hearts--that is the father's plan. from heart to heart it sinks, it steals, it flows, from these that know thee still infecting those. here is my heart--from thine, lord, fill it up, that i may offer it as the holy cup of thy communion to my every man. . when thou dost send out whirlwinds on thy seas, alternatest thy lightning with its roar, thy night with morning, and thy clouds with stars or, mightier force unseen in midst of these, orderest the life in every airy pore; guidest men's efforts, rul'st mishaps and jars,-- 'tis only for their hearts, and nothing more. . this, this alone thy father careth for-- that men should live hearted throughout with thee-- because the simple, only life thou art, of the very truth of living, the pure heart. for this, deep waters whelm the fruitful lea, wars ravage, famine wastes, plague withers, nor shall cease till men have chosen the better part. . but, like a virtuous medicine, self-diffused through all men's hearts thy love shall sink and float; till every feeling false, and thought unwise, selfish, and seeking, shall, sternly disused, wither, and die, and shrivel up to nought; and christ, whom they did hang 'twixt earth and skies, up in the inner world of men arise. . make me a fellow worker with thee, christ; nought else befits a god-born energy; of all that's lovely, only lives the highest, lifing the rest that it shall never die. up i would be to help thee--for thou liest not, linen-swathed in joseph's garden-tomb, but walkest crowned, creation's heart and bloom. . my god, when i would lift my heart to thee, imagination instantly doth set a cloudy something, thin, and vast, and vague, to stand for him who is the fact of me; then up the will, and doth her weakness plague to pay the heart her duty and her debt, showing the face that hearkeneth to the plea. . and hence it comes that thou at times dost seem to fade into an image of my mind; i, dreamer, cover, hide thee up with dream,-- thee, primal, individual entity!-- no likeness will i seek to frame or find, but cry to that which thou dost choose to be, to that which is my sight, therefore i cannot see. . no likeness? lo, the christ! oh, large enough! i see, yet fathom not the face he wore. he is--and out of him there is no stuff to make a man. let fail me every spark of blissful vision on my pathway rough, i have seen much, and trust the perfect more, while to his feet my faith crosses the wayless dark. . faith is the human shadow of thy might. thou art the one self-perfect life, and we who trust thy life, therein join on to thee, taking our part in self-creating light. to trust is to step forward out of the night-- to be--to share in the outgoing will that lives and is, because outgoing still. . i am lost before thee, father! yet i will claim of thee my birthright ineffable. thou lay'st it on me, son, to claim thee, sire; to that which thou hast made me, i aspire; to thee, the sun, upflames thy kindled fire. no man presumes in that to which he was born; less than the gift to claim, would be the giver to scorn. . henceforth all things thy dealings are with me for out of thee is nothing, or can be, and all things are to draw us home to thee. what matter that the knowers scoffing say, "this is old folly, plain to the new day"?-- if thou be such as thou, and they as they, unto thy let there be, they still must answer nay. . they will not, therefore cannot, do not know him. nothing they could know, could be god. in sooth, unto the true alone exists the truth. they say well, saying nature doth not show him: truly she shows not what she cannot show; and they deny the thing they cannot know. who sees a glory, towards it will go. . faster no step moves god because the fool shouts to the universe god there is none; the blindest man will not preach out the sun, though on his darkness he should found a school. it may be, when he finds he is not dead, though world and body, sight and sound are fled, some eyes may open in his foolish head. . when i am very weary with hard thought, and yet the question burns and is not quenched, my heart grows cool when to remembrance wrought that thou who know'st the light-born answer sought know'st too the dark where the doubt lies entrenched-- know'st with what seemings i am sore perplexed, and that with thee i wait, nor needs my soul be vexed. . who sets himself not sternly to be good, is but a fool, who judgment of true things has none, however oft the claim renewed. and he who thinks, in his great plenitude, to right himself, and set his spirit free, without the might of higher communings, is foolish also--save he willed himself to be. . how many helps thou giv'st to those would learn! to some sore pain, to others a sinking heart; to some a weariness worse than any smart; to some a haunting, fearing, blind concern; madness to some; to some the shaking dart of hideous death still following as they turn; to some a hunger that will not depart. . to some thou giv'st a deep unrest--a scorn of all they are or see upon the earth; a gaze, at dusky night and clearing morn, as on a land of emptiness and dearth; to some a bitter sorrow; to some the sting of love misprized--of sick abandoning; to some a frozen heart, oh, worse than anything! . to some a mocking demon, that doth set the poor foiled will to scoff at the ideal, but loathsome makes to them their life of jar. the messengers of satan think to mar, but make--driving the soul from false to feal-- to thee, the reconciler, the one real, in whom alone the would be and the is are met. . me thou hast given an infinite unrest, a hunger--not at first after known good, but something vague i knew not, and yet would-- the veiled isis, thy will not understood; a conscience tossing ever in my breast; and something deeper, that will not be expressed, save as the spirit thinking in the spirit's brood. . but now the spirit and i are one in this-- my hunger now is after righteousness; my spirit hopes in god to set me free from the low self loathed of the higher me. great elder brother of my second birth, dear o'er all names but one, in heaven or earth, teach me all day to love eternally. . lo, lord, thou know'st, i would not anything that in the heart of god holds not its root; nor falsely deem there is any life at all that doth in him nor sleep nor shine nor sing; i know the plants that bear the noisome fruit of burning and of ashes and of gall-- from god's heart torn, rootless to man's they cling. . life-giving love rots to devouring fire; justice corrupts to despicable revenge; motherhood chokes in the dam's jealous mire; hunger for growth turns fluctuating change; love's anger grand grows spiteful human wrath, hunting men out of conscience' holy path; and human kindness takes the tattler's range. . nothing can draw the heart of man but good; low good it is that draws him from the higher-- so evil--poison uncreate from food. never a foul thing, with temptation dire, tempts hellward force created to aspire, but walks in wronged strength of imprisoned truth, whose mantle also oft the shame indu'th. . love in the prime not yet i understand-- scarce know the love that loveth at first hand: help me my selfishness to scatter and scout; blow on me till my love loves burningly; then the great love will burn the mean self out, and i, in glorious simplicity, living by love, shall love unspeakably. . oh, make my anger pure--let no worst wrong rouse in me the old niggard selfishness. give me thine indignation--which is love turned on the evil that would part love's throng; thy anger scathes because it needs must bless, gathering into union calm and strong all things on earth, and under, and above. . make my forgiveness downright--such as i should perish if i did not have from thee; i let the wrong go, withered up and dry, cursed with divine forgetfulness in me. 'tis but self-pity, pleasant, mean, and sly, low whispering bids the paltry memory live:-- what am i brother for, but to forgive! . "thou art my father's child--come to my heart:" thus must i say, or thou must say, "depart;" thus i would say--i would be as thou art; thus i must say, or still i work athwart the absolute necessity and law that dwells in me, and will me asunder draw, if in obedience i leave any flaw. . lord, i forgive--and step in unto thee. if i have enemies, christ deal with them: he hath forgiven me and jerusalem. lord, set me from self-inspiration free, and let me live and think from thee, not me-- rather, from deepest me then think and feel, at centre of thought's swift-revolving wheel. . i sit o'ercanopied with beauty's tent, through which flies many a golden-winged dove, well watched of fancy's tender eyes up bent; a hundred powers wait on me, ministering; a thousand treasures art and knowledge bring; will, conscience, reason tower the rest above; but in the midst, alone, i gladness am and love. . 'tis but a vision, lord; i do not mean that thus i am, or have one moment been-- 'tis but a picture hung upon my wall, to measure dull contentment therewithal, and know behind the human how i fall;-- a vision true, of what one day shall be, when thou hast had thy very will with me. july. . alas, my tent! see through it a whirlwind sweep! moaning, poor fancy's doves are swept away. i sit alone, a sorrow half asleep, my consciousness the blackness all astir. no pilgrim i, a homeless wanderer-- for how canst thou be in the darkness deep, who dwellest only in the living day? . it must be, somewhere in my fluttering tent, strange creatures, half tamed only yet, are pent-- dragons, lop-winged birds, and large-eyed snakes! hark! through the storm the saddest howling breaks! or are they loose, roaming about the bent, the darkness dire deepening with moan and scream?-- my morning, rise, and all shall be a dream. . not thine, my lord, the darkness all is mine-- save that, as mine, my darkness too is thine: all things are thine to save or to destroy-- destroy my darkness, rise my perfect joy; love primal, the live coal of every night, flame out, scare the ill things with radiant fright, and fill my tent with laughing morn's delight. . master, thou workest with such common things-- low souls, weak hearts, i mean--and hast to use, therefore, such common means and rescuings, that hard we find it, as we sit and muse, to think thou workest in us verily: bad sea-boats we, and manned with wretched crews-- that doubt the captain, watch the storm-spray flee. . thou art hampered in thy natural working then when beings designed on freedom's holy plan will not be free: with thy poor, foolish men, thou therefore hast to work just like a man. but when, tangling thyself in their sore need, thou hast to freedom fashioned them indeed, then wilt thou grandly move, and godlike speed. . will this not then show grandest fact of all-- in thy creation victory most renowned-- that thou hast wrought thy will by slow and small, and made men like thee, though thy making bound by that which they were not, and could not be until thou mad'st them make along with thee?-- master, the tardiness is but in me. . hence come thy checks--because i still would run my head into the sand, nor flutter aloft towards thy home, with thy wind under me. 'tis because i am mean, thy ways so oft look mean to me; my rise is low begun; but scarce thy will doth grasp me, ere i see, for my arrest and rise, its stern necessity. . like clogs upon the pinions of thy plan we hang--like captives on thy chariot-wheels, who should climb up and ride with death's conqueror; therefore thy train along the world's highway steals so slow to the peace of heart-reluctant man. what shall we do to spread the wing and soar, nor straiten thy deliverance any more? . the sole way to put flight into the wing, to preen its feathers, and to make them grow, is to heed humbly every smallest thing with which the christ in us has aught to do. so will the christ from child to manhood go, obedient to the father christ, and so sweet holy change will turn all our old things to new. . creation thou dost work by faint degrees, by shade and shadow from unseen beginning; far, far apart, in unthought mysteries of thy own dark, unfathomable seas, thou will'st thy will; and thence, upon the earth-- slow travelling, his way through centuries winning-- a child at length arrives at never ending birth. . well mayst thou then work on indocile hearts by small successes, disappointments small; by nature, weather, failure, or sore fall; by shame, anxiety, bitterness, and smarts; by loneliness, by weary loss of zest:-- the rags, the husks, the swine, the hunger-quest, drive home the wanderer to the father's breast. . how suddenly some rapid turn of thought may throw the life-machine all out of gear, clouding the windows with the steam of doubt, filling the eyes with dust, with noise the ear! who knows not then where dwells the engineer, rushes aghast into the pathless night, and wanders in a land of dreary fright. . amazed at sightless whirring of their wheels, confounded with the recklessness and strife, distract with fears of what may next ensue, some break rude exit from the house of life, and plunge into a silence out of view-- whence not a cry, no wafture once reveals what door they have broke open with the knife. . help me, my father, in whatever dismay, whatever terror in whatever shape, to hold the faster by thy garment's hem; when my heart sinks, oh, lift it up, i pray; thy child should never fear though hell should gape, not blench though all the ills that men affray stood round him like the roman round jerusalem. . too eager i must not be to understand. how should the work the master goes about fit the vague sketch my compasses have planned? i am his house--for him to go in and out. he builds me now--and if i cannot see at any time what he is doing with me, 'tis that he makes the house for me too grand. . the house is not for me--it is for him. his royal thoughts require many a stair, many a tower, many an outlook fair, of which i have no thought, and need no care. where i am most perplexed, it may be there thou mak'st a secret chamber, holy-dim, where thou wilt come to help my deepest prayer. . i cannot tell why this day i am ill; but i am well because it is thy will-- which is to make me pure and right like thee. not yet i need escape--'tis bearable because thou knowest. and when harder things shall rise and gather, and overshadow me, i shall have comfort in thy strengthenings. . how do i live when thou art far away?-- when i am sunk, and lost, and dead in sleep, or in some dream with no sense in its play? when weary-dull, or drowned in study deep?-- o lord, i live so utterly on thee, i live when i forget thee utterly-- not that thou thinkest of, but thinkest me. . thou far!--that word the holy truth doth blur. doth the great ocean from the small fish run when it sleeps fast in its low weedy bower? is the sun far from any smallest flower, that lives by his dear presence every hour? are they not one in oneness without stir-- the flower the flower because the sun the sun? . "dear presence every hour"!--what of the night, when crumpled daisies shut gold sadness in; and some do hang the head for lack of light, sick almost unto death with absence-blight?-- thy memory then, warm-lingering in the ground, mourned dewy in the air, keeps their hearts sound, till fresh with day their lapsed life begin. . all things are shadows of the shining true: sun, sea, and air--close, potent, hurtless fire-- flowers from their mother's prison--dove, and dew-- every thing holds a slender guiding clue back to the mighty oneness:--hearts of faith know thee than light, than heat, endlessly nigher, our life's life, carpenter of nazareth. . sometimes, perhaps, the spiritual blood runs slow, and soft along the veins of will doth flow, seeking god's arteries from which it came. or does the etherial, creative flame turn back upon itself, and latent grow?-- it matters not what figure or what name, if thou art in me, and i am not to blame. . in such god-silence, the soul's nest, so long as all is still, no flutter and no song, is safe. but if my soul begin to act without some waking to the eternal fact that my dear life is hid with christ in god-- i think and move a creature of earth's clod, stand on the finite, act upon the wrong. . my soul this sermon hence for itself prepares:-- "then is there nothing vile thou mayst not do, buffeted in a tumult of low cares, and treacheries of the old man 'gainst the new."-- lord, in my spirit let thy spirit move, warning, that it may not have to reprove:-- in my dead moments, master, stir the prayers. . lord, let my soul o'erburdened then feel thee thrilling through all its brain's stupidity. if i must slumber, heedless of ill harms, let it not be but in my father's arms; outside the shelter of his garment's fold, all is a waste, a terror-haunted wold.-- lord, keep me. 'tis thy child that cries. behold. . some say that thou their endless love host won by deeds for them which i may not believe thou ever didst, or ever willedst done: what matter, so they love thee? they receive eternal more than the poor loom and wheel of their invention ever wove and spun.-- i love thee for i must, thine all from head to heel. . the love of thee will set all notions right. right save by love no thought can be or may; only love's knowledge is the primal light. questions keep camp along love's shining coast-- challenge my love and would my entrance stay: across the buzzing, doubting, challenging host, i rush to thee, and cling, and cry--thou know'st. . oh, let me live in thy realities, nor substitute my notions for thy facts, notion with notion making leagues and pacts; they are to truth but as dream-deeds to acts, and questioned, make me doubt of everything.-- "o lord, my god," my heart gets up and cries, "come thy own self, and with thee my faith bring." . o master, my desires to work, to know, to be aware that i do live and grow-- all restless wish for anything not thee, i yield, and on thy altar offer me. let me no more from out thy presence go, but keep me waiting watchful for thy will-- even while i do it, waiting watchful still. . thou art the lord of life, the secret thing. thou wilt give endless more than i could find, even if without thee i could go and seek; for thou art one, christ, with my deepest mind, duty alive, self-willed, in me dost speak, and to a deeper purer being sting: i come to thee, my life, my causing kind. . nothing is alien in thy world immense-- no look of sky or earth or man or beast; "in the great hand of god i stand, and thence" look out on life, his endless, holy feast. to try to feel is but to court despair, to dig for a sun within a garden-fence: who does thy will, o god, he lives upon thy air. august. . so shall abundant entrance me be given into the truth, my life's inheritance. lo! as the sun shoots straight from out his tomb, god-floated, casting round a lordly glance into the corners of his endless room, so, through the rent which thou, o christ, hast riven, i enter liberty's divine expanse. . it will be so--ah, so it is not now! who seeks thee for a little lazy peace, then, like a man all weary of the plough, that leaves it standing in the furrow's crease, turns from thy presence for a foolish while, till comes again the rasp of unrest's file, from liberty is distant many a mile. . like one that stops, and drinks, and turns, and goes into a land where never water flows, there travels on, the dry and thirsty day, until the hot night veils the farther way, then turns and finds again the bubbling pool-- here would i build my house, take up my stay, nor ever leave my sychar's margin cool. . keep me, lord, with thee. i call from out the dark-- hear in thy light, of which i am a spark. i know not what is mine and what is thine-- of branch and stem i miss the differing mark-- but if a mere hair's-breadth me separateth, that hair's-breadth is eternal, infinite death. for sap thy dead branch calls, o living vine! . i have no choice, i must do what i can; but thou dost me, and all things else as well; thou wilt take care thy child shall grow a man. rouse thee, my faith; be king; with life be one; to trust in god is action's highest kind; who trusts in god, his heart with life doth swell; faith opens all the windows to god's wind. . o father, thou art my eternity. not on the clasp of consciousness--on thee my life depends; and i can well afford all to forget, so thou remember, lord. in thee i rest; in sleep thou dost me fold; in thee i labour; still in thee, grow old; and dying, shall i not in thee, my life, be bold? . in holy things may be unholy greed. thou giv'st a glimpse of many a lovely thing, not to be stored for use in any mind, but only for the present spiritual need. the holiest bread, if hoarded, soon will breed the mammon-moth, the having-pride, i find. 'tis momently thy heart gives out heart-quickening. . it is thyself, and neither this nor that, nor anything, told, taught, or dreamed of thee, that keeps us live. the holy maid who sat low at thy feet, choosing the better part, rising, bore with her--what a memory! yet, brooding only on that treasure, she had soon been roused by conscious loss of heart. . i am a fool when i would stop and think, and lest i lose my thoughts, from duty shrink. it is but avarice in another shape. 'tis as the vine-branch were to hoard the grape, nor trust the living root beneath the sod. what trouble is that child to thee, my god, who sips thy gracious cup, and will not drink! . true, faithful action only is the life, the grapes for which we feel the pruning knife. thoughts are but leaves; they fall and feed the ground. the holy seasons, swift and slow, go round; the ministering leaves return, fresh, large, and rife-- but fresher, larger, more thoughts to the brain:-- farewell, my dove!--come back, hope-laden, through the rain. . well may this body poorer, feebler grow! it is undressing for its last sweet bed; but why should the soul, which death shall never know, authority, and power, and memory shed? it is that love with absolute faith would wed; god takes the inmost garments off his child, to have him in his arms, naked and undefiled. . thou art my knowledge and my memory, no less than my real, deeper life, my love. i will not fool, degrade myself to trust in less than that which maketh me say me, in less than that causing itself to be. then art within me, behind, beneath, above-- i will be thine because i may and must. . thou art the truth, the life. thou, lord, wilt see to every question that perplexes me. i am thy being; and my dignity is written with my name down in thy book; thou wilt care for it. never shall i think of anything that thou mightst overlook:-- in faith-born triumph at thy feet i sink. . thou carest more for that which i call mine, in same sort--better manner than i could, even if i knew creation's ends divine, rousing in me this vague desire of good. thou art more to me than my desires' whole brood; thou art the only person, and i cry unto the father i of this my i. . thou who inspirest prayer, then bend'st thine ear; it, crying with love's grand respect to hear! i cannot give myself to thee aright-- with the triumphant uttermost of gift; that cannot be till i am full of light-- to perfect deed a perfect will must lift:-- inspire, possess, compel me, first of every might. . i do not wonder men can ill believe who make poor claims upon thee, perfect lord; then most i trust when most i would receive. i wonder not that such do pray and grieve-- the god they think, to be god is not fit. then only in thy glory i seem to sit, when my heart claims from thine an infinite accord. . more life i need ere i myself can be. sometimes, when the eternal tide ebbs low, a moment weary of my life i grow-- weary of my existence' self, i mean, not of its plodding, not its wind and snow then to thy knee trusting i turn, and lean: thou will'st i live, and i do will with thee. . dost thou mean sometimes that we should forget thee, dropping the veil of things 'twixt thee and us?-- ah, not that we should lose thee and regret thee! but that, we turning from our windows thus, the frost-fixed god should vanish from the pane, sun-melted, and a moment, father, let thee look like thyself straight into heart and brain. . for sometimes when i am busy among men, with heart and brain an open thoroughfare for faces, words, and thoughts other than mine, and a pause comes at length--oh, sudden then, back throbs the tide with rush exultant rare; and for a gentle moment i divine thy dawning presence flush my tremulous air. . if i have to forget thee, do thou see it be a good, not bad forgetfulness; that all its mellow, truthful air be free from dusty noes, and soft with many a yes; that as thy breath my life, my life may be man's breath. so when thou com'st at hour unknown, thou shalt find nothing in me but thine own. . thou being in me, in my deepest me, through all the time i do not think of thee, shall i not grow at last so true within as to forget thee and yet never sin? shall i not walk the loud world's busy way, yet in thy palace-porch sit all the day? not conscious think of thee, yet never from thee stray? . forget!--oh, must it be?--would it were rather that every sense was so filled with my father that not in anything could i forget him, but deepest, highest must in all things set him!-- yet if thou think in me, god, what great matter though my poor thought to former break and latter-- as now my best thoughts; break, before thee foiled, and scatter! . some way there must be of my not forgetting, and thither thou art leading me, my god. the child that, weary of his mother's petting, runs out the moment that his feet are shod, may see her face in every flower he sees, and she, although beyond the window sitting, be nearer him than when he sat upon her knees. . what if, when i at last, at the long last, shall see thy face, my lord, my life's delight, it should not be the face that hath been glassed in poor imagination's mirror slight! will my soul sink, and shall i stand aghast, beggared of hope, my heart a conscious blight, amazed and lost--death's bitterness come and not passed? . ah, no! for from thy heart the love will press, and shining from thy perfect human face, will sink into me like the father's kiss; and deepening wide the gulf of consciousness beyond imagination's lowest abyss, will, with the potency of creative grace, lord it throughout the larger thinking place. . thus god-possessed, new born, ah, not for long should i the sight behold, beatified, know it creating in me, feel the throng of speechless hopes out-throbbing like a tide, and my heart rushing, borne aloft the flood, to offer at his feet its living blood-- ere, glory-hid, the other face i spied. . for out imagination is, in small, and with the making-difference that must be, mirror of god's creating mirror; all that shows itself therein, that formeth he, and there is christ, no bodiless vanity, though, face to face, the mighty perfectness with glory blurs the dim-reflected less. . i clasp thy feet, o father of the living! thou wilt not let my fluttering hopes be more, or lovelier, or greater, than thy giving! surely thy ships will bring to my poor shore, of gold and peacocks such a shining store as will laugh all the dreams to holy scorn, of love and sorrow that were ever born. . sometimes it seems pure natural to trust, and trust right largely, grandly, infinitely, daring the splendour of the giver's part; at other times, the whole earth is but dust, the sky is dust, yea, dust the human heart; then art thou nowhere, there is no room for thee in the great dust-heap of eternity. . but why should it be possible to mistrust-- nor possible only, but its opposite hard? why should not man believe because he must-- by sight's compulsion? why should he be scarred with conflict? worn with doubting fine and long?-- no man is fit for heaven's musician throng who has not tuned an instrument all shook and jarred. . therefore, o lord, when all things common seem, when all is dust, and self the centre clod, when grandeur is a hopeless, foolish dream, and anxious care more reasonable than god,-- out of the ashes i will call to thee-- in spite of dead distrust call earnestly:-- oh thou who livest, call, then answer dying me. september. . we are a shadow and a shining, we! one moment nothing seems but what we see, nor aught to rule but common circumstance-- nought is to seek but praise, to shun but chance; a moment more, and god is all in all, and not a sparrow from its nest can fall but from the ground its chirp goes up into his hall. . i know at least which is the better mood. when on a heap of cares i sit and brood, like job upon his ashes, sorely vext, i feel a lower thing than when i stood the world's true heir, fearless as, on its stalk, a lily meeting jesus in his walk: i am not all mood--i can judge betwixt. . such differing moods can scarce to one belong; shall the same fountain sweet and bitter yield? shall what bore late the dust-mood, think and brood till it bring forth the great believing mood? or that which bore the grand mood, bald and peeled, sit down to croon the shabby sensual song, to hug itself, and sink from wrong to meaner wrong? . in the low mood, the mere man acts alone, moved by impulses which, if from within, yet far outside the centre man begin; but in the grand mood, every softest tone comes from the living god at very heart-- from thee who infinite core of being art, thee who didst call our names ere ever we could sin. . there is a coward sparing in the heart, offspring of penury and low-born fear:-- prayer must take heed nor overdo its part, asking too much of him with open ear! sinners must wait, not seek the very best, cry out for peace, and be of middling cheer:-- false heart! thou cheatest god, and dost thy life molest. . thou hungerest not, thou thirstest not enough. thou art a temporizing thing, mean heart. down-drawn, thou pick'st up straws and wretched stuff, stooping as if the world's floor were the chart of the long way thy lazy feet must tread. thou dreamest of the crown hung o'er thy head-- but that is safe--thou gatherest hairs and fluff! . man's highest action is to reach up higher, stir up himself to take hold of his sire. then best i love you, dearest, when i go and cry to love's life i may love you so as to content the yearning, making love, that perfects strength divine in weakness' fire, and from the broken pots calls out the silver dove. . poor am i, god knows, poor as withered leaf; poorer or richer than, i dare not ask. to love aright, for me were hopeless task, eternities too high to comprehend. but shall i tear my heart in hopeless grief, or rise and climb, and run and kneel, and bend, and drink the primal love--so love in chief? . then love shall wake and be its own high life. then shall i know 'tis i that love indeed-- ready, without a moment's questioning strife, to be forgot, like bursting water-bead, for the high good of the eternal dear; all hope, all claim, resting, with spirit clear, upon the living love that every love doth breed. . ever seem to fail in utterance. sometimes amid the swift melodious dance of fluttering words--as if it had not been, the thought has melted, vanished into night; sometimes i say a thing i did not mean, and lo! 'tis better, by thy ordered chance, than what eluded me, floating too feathery light. . if thou wouldst have me speak, lord, give me speech. so many cries are uttered now-a-days, that scarce a song, however clear and true, will thread the jostling tumult safe, and reach the ears of men buz-filled with poor denays: barb thou my words with light, make my song new, and men will hear, or when i sing or preach. . can anything go wrong with me? i ask-- and the same moment, at a sudden pain, stand trembling. up from the great river's brim comes a cold breath; the farther bank is dim; the heaven is black with clouds and coming rain; high soaring faith is grown a heavy task, and all is wrong with weary heart and brain. . "things do go wrong. i know grief, pain, and fear. i see them lord it sore and wide around." from her fair twilight answers truth, star-crowned, "things wrong are needful where wrong things abound. things go not wrong; but pain, with dog and spear, false faith from human hearts will hunt and hound. the earth shall quake 'neath them that trust the solid ground." . things go not wrong when sudden i fall prone, but when i snatch my upheld hand from thine, and, proud or careless, think to walk alone. then things go wrong, when i, poor, silly sheep, to shelves and pits from the good pasture creep; not when the shepherd leaves the ninety and nine, and to the mountains goes, after the foolish one. . lo! now thy swift dogs, over stone and bush, after me, straying sheep, loud barking, rush. there's fear, and shame, and empty-heart, and lack, and lost-love, and a thousand at their back! i see thee not, but know thou hound'st them on, and i am lost indeed--escape is none. see! there they come, down streaming on my track! . i rise and run, staggering--double and run.-- but whither?--whither?--whither for escape? the sea lies all about this long-necked cape-- there come the dogs, straight for me every one-- me, live despair, live centre of alarms!-- ah! lo! 'twixt me and all his barking harms, the shepherd, lo!--i run--fall folded in his arms. . there let the dogs yelp, let them growl and leap; it is no matter--i will go to sleep. like a spent cloud pass pain and grief and fear, out from behind it unchanged love shines clear.-- oh, save me, christ!--i know not what i am, i was thy stupid, self-willed, greedy lamb, would be thy honest and obedient sheep. . why is it that so often i return from social converse with a spirit worn, a lack, a disappointment--even a sting of shame, as for some low, unworthy thing?-- because i have not, careful, first of all, set my door open wide, back to the wall, ere i at others' doors did knock and call. . yet more and more of me thou dost demand; my faith and hope in god alone shall stand, the life of law--not trust the rain and sun to draw the golden harvest o'er the land. i must not say--"this too will pass and die," "the wind will change," "round will the seasons run." law is the body of will, of conscious harmony. . who trusts a law, might worship a god of wood; half his soul slumbers, if it be not dead. he is a live thing shut in chaos crude, hemmed in with dragons--a remorseless head still hanging over its uplifted eyes. no; god is all in all, and nowhere dies-- the present heart and thinking will of good. . law is our schoolmaster. our master, christ, lived under all our laws, yet always prayed-- so walked the water when the storm was highest.-- law is thy father's; thou hast it obeyed, and it thereby subject to thee hast made-- to rule it, master, for thy brethren's sakes:-- well may he guide the law by whom law's maker makes. . death haunts our souls with dissolution's strife; soaks them with unrest; makes our every breath a throe, not action; from god's purest gift wipes off the bloom; and on the harp of faith its fretted strings doth slacken still and shift: life everywhere, perfect, and always life, is sole redemption from this haunting death. . god, thou from death dost lift me. as i rise, its lethe from my garment drips and flows. ere long i shall be safe in upper air, with thee, my life--with thee, my answered prayer where thou art god in every wind that blows, and self alone, and ever, softly dies, there shall my being blossom, and i know it fair. . i would dig, master, in no field but thine, would build my house only upon thy rock, yet am but a dull day, with a sea-sheen! why should i wonder then that they should mock, who, in the limbo of things heard and seen, hither and thither blowing, lose the shine of every light that hangs in the firmament divine. . lord, loosen in me the hold of visible things; help me to walk by faith and not by sight; i would, through thickest veils and coverings, see into the chambers of the living light. lord, in the land of things that swell and seem, help me to walk by the other light supreme, which shows thy facts behind man's vaguely hinting dream. . i see a little child whose eager hands search the thick stream that drains the crowded street for possible things hid in its current slow. near by, behind him, a great palace stands, where kings might welcome nobles to their feet. soft sounds, sweet scents, fair sights there only go-- there the child's father lives, but the child does not know. . on, eager, hungry, busy-seeking child, rise up, turn round, run in, run up the stair. far in a chamber from rude noise exiled, thy father sits, pondering how thou dost fare. the mighty man will clasp thee to his breast: will kiss thee, stroke the tangles of thy hair, and lap thee warm in fold on fold of lovely rest. . the prince of this world came, and nothing found in thee, o master; but, ah, woe is me! he cannot pass me, on other business bound, but, spying in me things familiar, he casts over me the shadow of his flight, and straight i moan in darkness--and the fight begins afresh betwixt the world and thee. . in my own heart, o master, in my thought, betwixt the woolly sheep and hairy goat not clearly i distinguish; but i think thou knowest that i fight upon thy side. the how i am ashamed of; for i shrink from many a blow--am borne on the battle-tide, when i should rush to the front, and take thy foe by the throat. . the enemy still hath many things in me; yea, many an evil nest with open hole gapes out to him, at which he enters free. but, like the impact of a burning coal, his presence mere straight rouses the garrison, and all are up in arms, and down on knee, fighting and praying till the foe is gone. october. . remember, lord, thou hast not made me good. or if thou didst, it was so long ago i have forgotten--and never understood, i humbly think. at best it was a crude, a rough-hewn goodness, that did need this woe, this sin, these harms of all kinds fierce and rude, to shape it out, making it live and grow. . but thou art making me, i thank thee, sire. what thou hast done and doest thou know'st well, and i will help thee:--gently in thy fire i will lie burning; on thy potter's-wheel i will whirl patient, though my brain should reel; thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell, and growing strength perfect through weakness dire. . i have not knowledge, wisdom, insight, thought, nor understanding, fit to justify thee in thy work, o perfect. thou hast brought me up to this--and, lo! what thou hast wrought, i cannot call it good. but i can cry-- "o enemy, the maker hath not done; one day thou shalt behold, and from the sight wilt run." . the faith i will, aside is easily bent; but of thy love, my god, one glimpse alone can make me absolutely confident-- with faith, hope, joy, in love responsive blent. my soul then, in the vision mighty grown, its father and its fate securely known, falls on thy bosom with exultant moan. . thou workest perfectly. and if it seem some things are not so well, 'tis but because they are too loving-deep, too lofty-wise, for me, poor child, to understand their laws: my highest wisdom half is but a dream; my love runs helpless like a falling stream: thy good embraces ill, and lo! its illness dies! . from sleep i wake, and wake to think of thee. but wherefore not with sudden glorious glee? why burst not gracious on me heaven and earth in all the splendour of a new-day-birth? why hangs a cloud betwixt my lord and me? the moment that my eyes the morning greet, my soul should panting rush to clasp thy father-feet. . is it because it is not thou i see, but only my poor, blotted fancy of thee? oh! never till thyself reveal thy face, shall i be flooded with life's vital grace. oh make my mirror-heart thy shining-place, and then my soul, awaking with the morn, shall be a waking joy, eternally new-born. . lord, in my silver is much metal base, else should my being by this time have shown thee thy own self therein. therefore do i wake in the furnace. i know thou sittest by, refining--look, keep looking in to try thy silver; master, look and see thy face, else here i lie for ever, blank as any stone. . but when in the dim silver thou dost look, i do behold thy face, though blurred and faint. oh joy! no flaw in me thy grace will brook, but still refine: slow shall the silver pass from bright to brighter, till, sans spot or taint, love, well content, shall see no speck of brass, and i his perfect face shall hold as in a glass. . with every morn my life afresh must break the crust of self, gathered about me fresh; that thy wind-spirit may rush in and shake the darkness out of me, and rend the mesh the spider-devils spin out of the flesh-- eager to net the soul before it wake, that it may slumberous lie, and listen to the snake. . 'tis that i am not good--that is enough; i pry no farther--that is not the way. here, o my potter, is thy making stuff! set thy wheel going; let it whir and play. the chips in me, the stones, the straws, the sand, cast them out with fine separating hand, and make a vessel of thy yielding clay. . what if it take a thousand years to make me, so me he leave not, angry, on the floor!-- nay, thou art never angry!--that would break me! would i tried never thy dear patience sore, but were as good as thou couldst well expect me, whilst thou dost make, i mar, and thou correct me! then were i now content, waiting for something more. . only, my god, see thou that i content thee-- oh, take thy own content upon me, god! ah, never, never, sure, wilt thou repent thee, that thou hast called thy adam from the clod! yet must i mourn that thou shouldst ever find me one moment sluggish, needing more of the rod than thou didst think when thy desire designed me. . my god, it troubles me i am not better. more help, i pray, still more. thy perfect debtor i shall be when thy perfect child i am grown. my father, help me--am i not thine own? lo, other lords have had dominion o'er me, but now thy will alone i set before me: thy own heart's life--lord, thou wilt not abhor me! . in youth, when once again i had set out to find thee, lord, my life, my liberty, a window now and then, clouds all about, would open into heaven: my heart forlorn first all would tremble with a solemn glee, then, whelmed in peace, rest like a man outworn, that sees the dawn slow part the closed lids of the morn. . now i grow old, and the soft-gathered years have calmed, yea dulled the heart's swift fluttering beat; but a quiet hope that keeps its household seat is better than recurrent glories fleet. to know thee, lord, is worth a many tears; and when this mildew, age, has dried away, my heart will beat again as young and strong and gay. . stronger and gayer tenfold!--but, o friends, not for itself, nor any hoarded bliss. i see but vaguely whither my being tends, all vaguely spy a glory shadow-blent, vaguely desire the "individual kiss;" but when i think of god, a large content fills the dull air of my gray cloudy tent. . father of me, thou art my bliss secure. make of me, maker, whatsoe'er thou wilt. let fancy's wings hang moulting, hope grow poor, and doubt steam up from where a joy was spilt-- i lose no time to reason it plain and clear, but fly to thee, my life's perfection dear:-- not what i think, but what thou art, makes sure. . this utterance of spirit through still thought, this forming of heart-stuff in moulds of brain, is helpful to the soul by which 'tis wrought, the shape reacting on the heart again; but when i am quite old, and words are slow, like dying things that keep their holes for woe, and memory's withering tendrils clasp with effort vain? . thou, then as now, no less wilt be my life, and i shall know it better than before, praying and trusting, hoping, claiming more. from effort vain, sick foil, and bootless strife, i shall, with childness fresh, look up to thee; thou, seeing thy child with age encumbered sore, wilt round him bend thine arm more carefully. . and when grim death doth take me by the throat, thou wilt have pity on thy handiwork; thou wilt not let him on my suffering gloat, but draw my soul out--gladder than man or boy, when thy saved creatures from the narrow ark rushed out, and leaped and laughed and cried for joy, and the great rainbow strode across the dark. . against my fears, my doubts, my ignorance, i trust in thee, o father of my lord! the world went on in this same broken dance, when, worn and mocked, he trusted and adored: i too will trust, and gather my poor best to face the truth-faced false. so in his nest i shall awake at length, a little scarred and scored. . things cannot look all right so long as i am not all right who see--therefore not right can see. the lamp within sends out the light which shows the things; and if its rays go wry, or are not white, they must part show a lie. the man, half-cured, did men not trees conclude, because he moving saw what else had seemed a wood. . give me, take from me, as thou wilt. i learn-- slowly and stubbornly i learn to yield with a strange hopefulness. as from the field of hard-fought battle won, the victor chief turns thankfully, although his heart do yearn, so from my old things to thy new i turn, with sad, thee-trusting heart, and not in grief. . if with my father i did wander free, floating o'er hill and field where'er we would, and, lighting on the sward before the door, strange faces through the window-panes should see, and strange feet standing where the loved had stood, the dear old place theirs all, as ours before-- should i be sorrowful, father, having thee? . so, lord, if thou tak'st from me all the rest, thyself with each resumption drawing nigher, it shall but hurt me as the thorn of the briar, when i reach to the pale flower in its breast. to have thee, lord, is to have all thy best, holding it by its very life divine-- to let my friend's hand go, and take his heart in mine. . take from me leisure, all familiar places; take all the lovely things of earth and air take from me books; take all my precious faces; take words melodious, and their songful linking; take scents, and sounds, and all thy outsides fair; draw nearer, taking, and, to my sober thinking, thou bring'st them nearer all, and ready to my prayer. . no place on earth henceforth i shall count strange, for every place belongeth to my christ. i will go calm where'er thou bid'st me range; whoe'er my neighbour, thou art still my nighest. oh my heart's life, my owner, will of my being! into my soul thou every moment diest, in thee my life thus evermore decreeing. . what though things change and pass, nor come again! thou, the life-heart of all things, changest never. the sun shines on; the fair clouds turn to rain, and glad the earth with many a spring and river. the hearts that answer change with chill and shiver, that mourn the past, sad-sick, with hopeless pain, they know not thee, our changeless heart and brain. . my halting words will some day turn to song-- some far-off day, in holy other times! the melody now prisoned in my rimes will one day break aloft, and from the throng of wrestling thoughts and words spring up the air; as from the flower its colour's sweet despair issues in odour, and the sky's low levels climbs. . my surgent thought shoots lark-like up to thee. thou like the heaven art all about the lark. whatever i surmise or know in me, idea, or but symbol on the dark, is living, working, thought-creating power in thee, the timeless father of the hour. i am thy book, thy song--thy child would be. november . thou art of this world, christ. thou know'st it all; thou know'st our evens, our morns, our red and gray; how moons, and hearts, and seasons rise and fall; how we grow weary plodding on the way; of future joy how present pain bereaves, rounding us with a dark of mere decay, tossed with a drift of summer-fallen leaves. . thou knowest all our weeping, fainting, striving; thou know'st how very hard it is to be; how hard to rouse faint will not yet reviving; to do the pure thing, trusting all to thee; to hold thou art there, for all no face we see; how hard to think, through cold and dark and dearth, that thou art nearer now than when eye-seen on earth. . have pity on us for the look of things, when blank denial stares us in the face. although the serpent mask have lied before, it fascinates the bird that darkling sings, and numbs the little prayer-bird's beating wings. for how believe thee somewhere in blank space, if through the darkness come no knocking to our door? . if we might sit until the darkness go, possess our souls in patience perhaps we might; but there is always something to be done, and no heart left to do it. to and fro the dull thought surges, as the driven waves fight in gulfy channels. oh! victorious one, give strength to rise, go out, and meet thee in the night. . "wake, thou that sleepest; rise up from the dead, and christ will give thee light." i do not know what sleep is, what is death, or what is light; but i am waked enough to feel a woe, to rise and leave death. stumbling through the night, to my dim lattice, o calling christ! i go, and out into the dark look for thy star-crowned head. . there are who come to me, and write, and send, whom i would love, giving good things to all, but friend--that name i cannot on them spend; 'tis from the centre of self-love they call for cherishing--for which they first must know how to be still, and take the seat that's low: when, lord, shall i be fit--when wilt thou call me friend? . wilt thou not one day, lord? in all my wrong, self-love and weakness, laziness and fear, this one thing i can say: i am content to be and have what in thy heart i am meant to be and have. in my best times i long after thy will, and think it glorious-dear; even in my worst, perforce my will to thine is bent. . my god, i look to thee for tenderness such as i could not seek from any man, or in a human heart fancy or plan-- a something deepest prayer will not express: lord, with thy breath blow on my being's fires, until, even to the soul with self-love wan, i yield the primal love, that no return desires. . only no word of mine must ever foster the self that in a brother's bosom gnaws; i may not fondle failing, nor the boaster encourage with the breath of my applause. weakness needs pity, sometimes love's rebuke; strength only sympathy deserves and draws-- and grows by every faithful loving look. . 'tis but as men draw nigh to thee, my lord, they can draw nigh each other and not hurt. who with the gospel of thy peace are girt, the belt from which doth hang the spirit's sword, shall breathe on dead bones, and the bones shall live, sweet poison to the evil self shall give, and, clean themselves, lift men clean from the mire abhorred. . my lord, i have no clothes to come to thee; my shoes are pierced and broken with the road; i am torn and weathered, wounded with the goad, and soiled with tugging at my weary load: the more i need thee! a very prodigal i stagger into thy presence, lord of me: one look, my christ, and at thy feet i fall! . why should i still hang back, like one in a dream, who vainly strives to clothe himself aright, that in great presence he may seemly seem? why call up feeling?--dress me in the faint, worn, faded, cast-off nimbus of some saint? why of old mood bring back a ghostly gleam-- while there he waits, love's heart and loss's blight! . son of the father, elder brother mine, see thy poor brother's plight; see how he stands defiled and feeble, hanging down his hands! make me clean, brother, with thy burning shine; from thy rich treasures, householder divine, bring forth fair garments, old and new, i pray, and like thy brother dress me, in the old home-bred way. . my prayer-bird was cold--would not away, although i set it on the edge of the nest. then i bethought me of the story old-- love-fact or loving fable, thou know'st best-- how, when the children had made sparrows of clay, thou mad'st them birds, with wings to flutter and fold: take, lord, my prayer in thy hand, and make it pray. . my poor clay-sparrow seems turned to a stone, and from my heart will neither fly nor run. i cannot feel as thou and i both would, but, father, i am willing--make me good. what art thou father for, but to help thy son? look deep, yet deeper, in my heart, and there, beyond where i can feel, read thou the prayer. . oh what it were to be right sure of thee! sure that thou art, and the same as thy son, jesus! oh, faith is deeper, wider than the sea, yea, than the blue of heaven that ever flees us! yet simple as the cry of sore-hurt child, or as his shout, with sudden gladness wild, when home from school he runs, till morn set free. . if i were sure thou, father, verily art, true father of the nazarene as true, sure as i am of my wife's shielding heart, sure as of sunrise in the watching blue, sure as i am that i do eat and drink, and have a heart to love and laugh and think, meseems in flame the joy might from my body start. . but i must know thee in a deeper way than any of these ways, or know thee not; my heart at peace far loftier proof must lay than if the wind thou me the wave didst roll, than if i lay before thee a sunny spot, or knew thee as the body knows its soul, or even as the part doth know its perfect whole. . there is no word to tell how i must know thee; no wind clasped ever a low meadow-flower so close that as to nearness it could show thee; no rainbow so makes one the sun and shower. a something with thee, i am a nothing fro' thee. because i am not save as i am in thee, my soul is ever setting out to win thee. . i know not how--for that i first must know thee. i know i know thee not as i would know thee, for my heart burns like theirs that did not know him, till he broke bread, and therein they must know him. i know thee, knowing that i do not know thee, nor ever shall till one with me i know thee-- even as thy son, the eternal man, doth know thee. . creation under me, in, and above, slopes upward from the base, a pyramid, on whose point i shall stand at last, and love. from the first rush of vapour at thy will, to the last poet-word that darkness chid, thou hast been sending up creation's hill, to lift thy souls aloft in faithful godhead free. . i think my thought, and fancy i think thee.-- lord, wake me up; rend swift my coffin-planks; i pray thee, let me live--alive and free. my soul will break forth in melodious thanks, aware at last what thou wouldst have it be, when thy life shall be light in me, and when my life to thine is answer and amen. . how oft i say the same things in these lines! even as a man, buried in during dark, turns ever where the edge of twilight shines, prays ever towards the vague eternal mark; or as the sleeper, having dreamed he drinks, back straightway into thirstful dreaming sinks, so turns my will to thee, for thee still longs, still pines. . the mortal man, all careful, wise, and troubled, the eternal child in the nursery doth keep. to-morrow on to-day the man heaps doubled; the child laughs, hopeful, even in his sleep. the man rebukes the child for foolish trust; the child replies, "thy care is for poor dust; be still, and let me wake that thou mayst sleep." . till i am one, with oneness manifold, i must breed contradiction, strife, and doubt; things tread thy court--look real--take proving hold-- my christ is not yet grown to cast them out; alas! to me, false-judging 'twixt the twain, the unseen oft fancy seems, while, all about, the seen doth lord it with a mighty train. . but when the will hath learned obedience royal, he straight will set the child upon the throne; to whom the seen things all, grown instant loyal, will gather to his feet, in homage prone-- the child their master they have ever known; then shall the visible fabric plainly lean on a reality that never can be seen. . thy ways are wonderful, maker of men! thou gavest me a child, and i have fed and clothed and loved her, many a growing year; lo! now a friend of months draws gently near, and claims her future--all beyond his ken-- there he hath never loved her nor hath led: she weeps and moans, but turns, and leaves her home so dear. . she leaves, but not forsakes. oft in the night, oft at mid-day when all is still around, sudden will rise, in dim pathetic light, some childish memory of household bliss, or sorrow by love's service robed and crowned; rich in his love, she yet will sometimes miss the mother's folding arms, the mother's sealing kiss. . then first, i think, our eldest-born, although loving, devoted, tender, watchful, dear, the innermost of home-bred love shall know! yea, when at last the janitor draws near, a still, pale joy will through the darkness go, at thought of lying in those arms again, which once were heaven enough for any pain. . by love doth love grow mighty in its love: once thou shalt love us, child, as we love thee. father of loves, is it not thy decree that, by our long, far-wandering remove from thee, our life, our home, our being blest, we learn at last to love thee true and best, and rush with all our loves back to thy infinite rest? december. . i am a little weary of my life-- not thy life, blessed father! or the blood too slowly laves the coral shores of thought, or i am weary of weariness and strife. open my soul-gates to thy living flood; i ask not larger heart-throbs, vigour-fraught, i pray thy presence, with strong patience rife. . i will what thou will'st--only keep me sure that thou art willing; call to me now and then. so, ceasing to enjoy, i shall endure with perfect patience--willing beyond my ken beyond my love, beyond my thinking scope; willing to be because thy will is pure; willing thy will beyond all bounds of hope. . this weariness of mine, may it not come from something that doth need no setting right? shall fruit be blamed if it hang wearily a day before it perfected drop plumb to the sad earth from off its nursing tree? ripeness must always come with loss of might. the weary evening fall before the resting night. . hither if i have come through earth and air, through fire and water--i am not of them; born in the darkness, what fair-flashing gem would to the earth go back and nestle there? not of this world, this world my life doth hem; what if i weary, then, and look to the door, because my unknown life is swelling at the core? . all winged things came from the waters first; airward still many a one from the water springs in dens and caves wind-loving things are nursed:-- i lie like unhatched bird, upfolded, dumb, while all the air is trembling with the hum of songs and beating hearts and whirring wings, that call my slumbering life to wake to happy things. . i lay last night and knew not why i was sad. "'tis well with god," i said, "and he is the truth; let that content me."--'tis not strength, nor youth, nor buoyant health, nor a heart merry-mad, that makes the fact of things wherein men live: he is the life, and doth my life outgive; in him there is no gloom, but all is solemn-glad, . i said to myself, "lo, i lie in a dream of separation, where there comes no sign; my waking life is hid with christ in god, where all is true and potent--fact divine." i will not heed the thing that doth but seem; i will be quiet as lark upon the sod; god's will, the seed, shall rest in me the pod. . and when that will shall blossom--then, my god, there will be jubilation in a world! the glad lark, soaring heavenward from the sod, up the swift spiral of its own song whirled, never such jubilation wild out-poured as from my soul will break at thy feet, lord, like a great tide from sea-heart shoreward hurled. . for then thou wilt be able, then at last, to glad me as thou hungerest to do; then shall thy life my heart all open find, a thoroughfare to thy great spirit-wind; then shall i rest within thy holy vast, one with the bliss of the eternal mind; and all creation rise in me created new. . what makes thy being a bliss shall then make mind for i shall love as thou, and love in thee; then shall i have whatever i desire, my every faintest wish being all divine; power thou wilt give me to work mightily, even as my lord, leading thy low men nigher, with dance and song to cast their best upon thy fire. . then shall i live such an essential life that a mere flower will then to me unfold more bliss than now grandest orchestral strife-- by love made and obedience humble-bold, i shall straight through its window god behold. god, i shall feed on thee, thy creature blest with very being--work at one with sweetest rest. . give me a world, to part for praise and sunder. the brooks be bells; the winds, in caverns dumb, wake fife and flute and flageolet and voice; the fire-shook earth itself be the great drum; and let the air the region's bass out thunder; the firs be violins; the reeds hautboys; rivers, seas, icebergs fill the great score up and under! . but rather dost thou hear the blundered words of breathing creatures; the music-lowing herds of thy great cattle; thy soft-bleating sheep; o'erhovered by the trebles of thy birds, whose christ-praised carelessness song-fills the deep; still rather a child's talk who apart doth hide him, and make a tent for god to come and sit beside him. . this is not life; this being is not enough. but thou art life, and thou hast life for me. thou mad'st the worm--to cast the wormy slough, and fly abroad--a glory flit and flee. thou hast me, statue-like, hewn in the rough, meaning at last to shape me perfectly. lord, thou hast called me fourth, i turn and call on thee. . 'tis thine to make, mine to rejoice in thine. as, hungering for his mother's face and eyes, the child throws wide the door, back to the wall, i run to thee, the refuge from poor lies: lean dogs behind me whimper, yelp, and whine; life lieth ever sick, death's writhing thrall, in slavery endless, hopeless, and supine. . the life that hath not willed itself to be, must clasp the life that willed, and be at peace; or, like a leaf wind-blown, through chaos flee; a life-husk into which the demons go, and work their will, and drive it to and fro; a thing that neither is, nor yet can cease, which uncreation can alone release. . but when i turn and grasp the making hand, and will the making will, with confidence i ride the crest of the creation-wave, helpless no more, no more existence' slave; in the heart of love's creating fire i stand, and, love-possessed in heart and soul and sense, take up the making share the making master gave. . that man alone who does the father's works can be the father's son; yea, only he who sonlike can create, can ever be; who with god wills not, is no son, not free. o father, send the demon-doubt that lurks behind the hope, out into the abyss; who trusts in knowledge all its good shall miss. . thy beasts are sinless, and do live before thee; thy child is sinful, and must run to thee. thy angels sin not and in peace adore thee; but i must will, or never more be free. i from thy heart came, how can i ignore thee?-- back to my home i hurry, haste, and flee; there i shall dwell, love-praising evermore thee. . my holy self, thy pure ideal, lies calm in thy bosom, which it cannot leave; my self unholy, no ideal, hies hither and thither, gathering store to grieve-- not now, o father! now it mounts, it flies, to join the true self in thy heart that waits, and, one with it, be one with all the heavenly mates. . trusting thee, christ, i kneel, and clasp thy knee; cast myself down, and kiss thy brother-feet-- one self thou and the father's thought of thee! ideal son, thou hast left the perfect home, ideal brother, to seek thy brothers come! thou know'st our angels all, god's children sweet, and of each two wilt make one holy child complete. . to a slow end i draw these daily words, nor think such words often to write again-- rather, as light the power to me affords, christ's new and old would to my friends unbind; through words he spoke help to his thought behind; unveil the heart with which he drew his men; set forth his rule o'er devils, animals, corn, and wind. . i do remember how one time i thought, "god must be lonely--oh, so lonely lone! i will be very good to him--ah, nought can reach the heart of his great loneliness! my whole heart i will bring him, with a moan that i may not come nearer; i will lie prone before the awful loveliness in loneliness' excess." . a god must have a god for company. and lo! thou hast the son-god to thy friend. thou honour'st his obedience, he thy law. into thy secret life-will he doth see; thou fold'st him round in live love perfectly-- one two, without beginning, without end; in love, life, strength, and truth, perfect without a flaw. . thou hast not made, or taught me, lord, to care for times and seasons--but this one glad day is the blue sapphire clasping all the lights that flash in the girdle of the year so fair-- when thou wast born a man, because alway thou wast and art a man, through all the flights of thought, and time, and thousandfold creation's play. . we all are lonely, maker--each a soul shut in by itself, a sundered atom of thee. no two yet loved themselves into a whole; even when we weep together we are two. of two to make one, which yet two shall be, is thy creation's problem, deep, and true, to which thou only hold'st the happy, hurting clue. . no less than thou, o father, do we need a god to friend each lonely one of us. as touch not in the sack two grains of seed, touch no two hearts in great worlds populous. outside the making god we cannot meet him he has made our brother: homeward, thus, to find our kin we first must turn our wandering feet. . it must be possible that the soul made should absolutely meet the soul that makes; then, in that bearing soul, meet every other there also born, each sister and each brother. lord, till i meet thee thus, life is delayed; i am not i until that morning breaks, not i until my consciousness eternal wakes. . again i shall behold thee, daughter true; the hour will come when i shall hold thee fast in god's name, loving thee all through and through. somewhere in his grand thought this waits for us. then shall i see a smile not like thy last-- for that great thing which came when all was past, was not a smile, but god's peace glorious. . twilight of the transfiguration-joy, gleam-faced, pure-eyed, strong-willed, high-hearted boy! hardly thy life clear forth of heaven was sent, ere it broke out into a smile, and went. so swift thy growth, so true thy goalward bent, thou, child and sage inextricably blent, wilt one day teach thy father in some heavenly tent . go, my beloved children, live your life. wounded, faint, bleeding, never yield the strife. stunned, fallen-awake, arise, and fight again. before you victory stands, with shining train of hopes not credible until they are. beyond morass and mountain swells the star of perfect love--the home of longing heart and brain (www.ccel.org) collection. html version by al haines. the cell of self-knowledge: seven early english mystical treatises printed by henry pepwell mdxxi edited with an introduction and notes by edmund g. gardner m.a. the frontispiece is taken from b.m. ms. faustina, b. vi. "stiamo nella cella del cognoscimento di noi; cognoscendo, noi per noi non essere, e la bonta di dio in noi; ricognoscendo l'essere, e ogni grazia che e posta sopra l'essere, da lui."--st. catherine of siena. "tergat ergo speculum suum, mundet spiritum suum, quisquis sitit videre deum suum. exterso autem speculo et diu diligenter inspecto, incipit ei quaedam divini luminis claritas interlucere, et immensus quidam insolitae visionis radius oculis ejus apparere. hoc lumen oculos ejus irradiaverat, qui dicebat: signatum est super nos lumen vultus tui, domine; dedisti laetitiam in corde meo. ex hujus igitur luminis visione quam admiratur in se, mirum in modum accenditur animus, et animatur ad videndum lumen, quod est supra se."--richard of st. victor. contents i. a very devout treatise, named benjamin, of the mights and virtues of man's soul, and of the way to true contemplation, compiled by a noble and famous doctor, a man of great holiness and devotion, named richard of saint victor the prologue cap. i. how the virtue of dread riseth in the affection cap. ii. how sorrow riseth in the affection cap. iii. how hope riseth in the affection cap. iv. how love riseth in the affection cap. v. how the double sight of pain and joy riseth in the imagination cap. vi. how the virtues of abstinence and patience rise in the sensuality cap. vii. how joy of inward sweetness riseth in the affection cap. viii. how perfect hatred of sin riseth in the affection cap. ix. how ordained shame riseth and groweth in the affection cap. x. how discretion and contemplation rise in the reason ii. divers doctrines devout and fruitful, taken out of the life of that glorious virgin and spouse of our lord, saint katherin of seenes iii. a short treatise of contemplation taught by our lord jesu christ, or taken out of the book of margery kempe, ancress of lynn iv. a devout treatise compiled by master walter hylton of the song of angels v. a devout treatise called the epistle of prayer vi. a very necessary epistle of discretion in stirrings of the soul vii. a devout treatise of discerning of spirits, very necessary for ghostly livers introduction from the end of the thirteenth to the beginning of the fifteenth century may be called the golden age of mystical literature in the vernacular. in germany, we find mechthild of magdeburg (d. ), meister eckhart (d. ), johannes tauler (d. ), and heinrich suso (d. ); in flanders, jan ruysbroek (d. ); in italy, dante alighieri himself (d. ), jacopone da todi (d. ), st. catherine of siena (d. ), and many lesser writers who strove, in prose or in poetry, to express the hidden things of the spirit, the secret intercourse of the human soul with the divine, no longer in the official latin of the church, but in the language of their own people, "a man's own vernacular," which "is nearest to him, inasmuch as it is most closely united to him."[ ] in england, the great names of richard rolle, the hermit of hampole (d. ), of walter hilton (d. ), and of mother juliana of norwich, whose revelation of divine love professedly date from , speak for themselves. the seven tracts or treatises before us were published in in a little quarto volume: "imprynted at london in poules chyrchyarde at the sygne of the trynyte, by henry pepwell. in the yere of our lorde god, m.ccccc.xxi., the xvi. daye of nouembre." they may, somewhat loosely speaking, be regarded as belonging to the fourteenth century, though the first and longest of them professes to be but a translation of the work of the great augustinian mystic of an earlier age. st. bernard, richard of st. victor, and st. bonaventura--all three very familiar figures to students of dante's paradiso--are the chief influences in the story of english mysticism. and, through the writings of his latter-day followers, richard rolle, walter hilton, and the anonymous author of the divine cloud of unknowing, richard of st. victor is, perhaps, the most important of the three. himself either a scot or an irishman by birth, richard entered the famous abbey of st. victor, a house of augustinian canons near paris, some time before , where he became the chief pupil of the great mystical doctor and theologian whom the later middle ages regarded as a second augustine, hugh of st. victor. after hugh's death ( ), richard succeeded to his influence as a teacher, and completed his work in creating the mystical theology of the church. his masterpiece, de gratia contemplationis, known also as benjamin major, in five books, is a work of marvellous spiritual insight, unction, and eloquence, upon which dante afterwards based the whole mystical psychology of the paradiso. in it richard shows how the soul passes upward through the six steps of contemplation--in imagination, in reason, in understanding--gradually discarding all sensible objects of thought; until, in the sixth stage, it contemplates what is above reason, and seems to be beside reason, or even contrary to reason. he teaches that there are three qualities of contemplation, according to its intensity: mentis dilatatio, an enlargement of the soul's vision without exceeding the bounds of human activity; mentis sublevatio, elevation of mind, in which the intellect, divinely illumined, transcends the measure of humanity, and beholds the things above itself, but does not entirely lose self-consciousness; and mentis alienatio, or ecstasy, in which all memory of the present leaves the mind, and it passes into a state of divine transfiguration, in which the soul gazes upon truth without any veils of creatures, not in a mirror darkly, but in its pure simplicity. this master of the spiritual life died in . amongst the glowing souls of the great doctors and theologians in the fourth heaven, st. thomas aquinas bids dante mark the ardent spirit of "richard who in contemplation was more than man."[ ] benjamin, for richard, is the type of contemplation, in accordance with the vulgate version of psalm lxvii.: ibi benjamin adolescentulus in mentis excessu: "there is benjamin, a youth, in ecstasy of mind"--where the english bible reads: "little benjamin their ruler."[ ] at the birth of benjamin, his mother rachel dies: "for, when the mind of man is rapt above itself, it surpasseth all the limits of human reasoning. elevated above itself and rapt in ecstasy, it beholdeth things in the divine light at which all human reason succumbs. what, then, is the death of rachel, save the failing of reason?"[ ] the treatise here printed under the title benjamin is based upon a smaller work of richard's, a kind of introduction to the benjamin major, entitled: benjamin minor; or: de praeparatione animi ad contemplationem. it is a paraphrase of certain portions of this work, with a few additions, and large omissions. among the portions omitted are the two passages that, almost alone among richard's writings, are known to the general reader--or, at least, to people who do not claim to be specialists in mediaeval theology. in the one, he speaks of knowledge of self as the holy hill, the mountain of the lord:-- "if the mind would fain ascend to the height of science, let its first and principal study be to know itself. full knowledge of the rational spirit is a great and high mountain. this mountain transcends all the peaks of all mundane sciences, and looks down upon all the philosophy and all the science of the world from on high. could aristotle, could plato, could the great band of philosophers ever attain to it?"[ ] in the other, still adhering to his image of the mountain of self-knowledge, he makes his famous appeal to the bible, as the supreme test of truth, the only sure guard that the mystic has against being deluded in his lofty speculations:-- "even if you think that you have been taken up into that high mountain apart, even if you think that you see christ transfigured, do not be too ready to believe anything you see in him or hear from him, unless moses and elias run to meet him. i hold all truth in suspicion which the authority of the scriptures does not confirm, nor do i receive christ in his clarification unless moses and elias are talking with him."[ ] on the other hand, the beautiful passage with which the version closes, so typical of the burning love of christ, shown in devotion to the name of jesus, which glows through all the writings of the school of the hermit of hampole, is an addition of the translator:-- "and therefore, what so thou be that covetest to come to contemplation of god, that is to say, to bring forth such a child that men clepen in the story benjamin (that is to say, sight of god), then shalt thou use thee in this manner. thou shalt call together thy thoughts and thy desires, and make thee of them a church, and learn thee therein for to love only this good word jesu, so that all thy desires and all thy thoughts are only set for to love jesu, and that unceasingly as it may be here; so that thou fulfil that is said in the psalm: 'lord, i shall bless thee in churches'; that is, in thoughts and desires of the love of jesu. and then, in this church of thoughts and desires, and in this onehead of studies and of wills, look that all thy thoughts, and all thy desires, and all thy studies, and all thy wills be only set in the love and the praising of this lord jesu, without forgetting, as far forth as thou mayst by grace, and as thy frailty will suffer; evermore meeking thee to prayer and to counsel, patiently abiding the will of our lord, unto the time that thy mind be ravished above itself, to be fed with the fair food of angels in the beholding of god and ghostly things; so that it be fulfilled in thee that is written in the psalm: ibi benjamin adolescentulus in mentis excessu; that is: 'there is benjamin, the young child, in ravishing of mind."'[ ] the text printed by pepwell differs slightly from that of the manuscripts, of which a large number have been preserved. among others, it is found in the arundel ms. , and the harleian mss. , , and . it has been published from the harl. ms. by professor c. horstman, who observes that "it is very old, and certainly prior to walter hilton."[ ] it is evidently by one of the followers of richard rolle, dating from about the middle of the fourteenth century. external and internal evidence seems to point to its being the work of the anonymous author of the divine cloud of unknowing. this is not the place to tell again the wonderful story of st. catherine of siena ( - ), one of the noblest and most truly heroic women that the world has ever seen. her life and manifold activities only touched england indirectly. the famous english captain of mercenaries, sir john hawkwood, was among the men of the world who, at least for a while, were won to nobler ideals by her letters and exhortations. two of her principal disciples, giovanni tantucci and william flete, both augustinian hermits, were graduates of cambridge; the latter, an englishman by birth, was appointed by her on her deathbed to preside over the continuance of her work in her native city, and a vision of his, concerning the legitimacy of the claims of urban the sixth to the papal throne, was brought forward as one of the arguments that induced england, on the outbreak of the great schism in the church ( ), to adhere to the roman obedience for which catherine was battling to the death. a letter which she herself addressed on the same subject to king richard the second has not been preserved. about , wynkyn de worde printed the lyf of saint katherin of senis the blessid virgin, edited by caxton; which is a free translation, by an anonymous dominican, with many omissions and the addition of certain reflections, of the legenda, the great latin biography of st. catherine by her third confessor, friar raymond of capua, the famous master-general and reformer of the order of st. dominic (d. ). he followed this up, in , by an english rendering by brother dane james of the saint's mystical treatise the dialogo: "here begynneth the orcharde of syon; in the whiche is conteyned the reuelacyons of seynt katheryne of sene, with ghostly fruytes and precyous plantes for the helthe of mannes soule."[ ] this was not translated from st. catherine's own vernacular, but from friar raymond's latin version of the latter, first printed at brescia in . from the first of these two works, the lyf, are selected the passages--the divers doctrines devout and fruitful--which pepwell here presents to us; but it seems probable that he was not borrowing directly from caxton, as an almost verbally identical selection, with an identical title, is found in the british museum, ms. reg. d.v., where it follows the divine cloud of unknowing. margery kempe is a much more mysterious personage. she has come down to us only in a tiny quarto of eight pages printed by wynkyn de worde:-- "here begynneth a shorte treatyse of contemplacyon taught by our lorde jhesu cryste, or taken out of the boke of margerie kempe of lynn." and at the end:-- "here endeth a shorte treatyse called margerie kempe de lynn. enprynted in fletestrete by wynkyn de worde." the only known copy is preserved in the university of cambridge. it is undated, but appears to have been printed in .[ ] with a few insignificant variations, it is the same as was printed twenty years later by pepwell, who merely inserts a few words like "our lord jesus said unto her," or "she said," and adds that she was a devout ancress. tanner, not very accurately, writes: "this book contains various discourses of christ (as it is pretended) to certain holy women; and, written in the style of modern quietists and quakers, speaks of the inner love of god, of perfection, et cetera."[ ] no manuscript of the work is known to exist, and absolutely no traces can be discovered of the "book of margery kempe," out of which it is implied by the printer that these beautiful thoughts and sayings are taken. there is nothing in the treatise itself to enable us to fix its date. it is, perhaps, possible that the writer or recipient of these revelations is the "margeria filia johannis kempe," who, between and , gave up to the prior and convent of christ church, canterbury, all her rights in a piece of land with buildings and appurtenances, "which falls to me after the decease of my brother john, and lies in the parish of blessed mary of northgate outside the walls of the city of canterbury."[ ] the revelations show that she was (or had been) a woman of some wealth and social position, who had abandoned the world to become an ancress, following the life prescribed in that gem of early english devotional literature, the ancren riwle. it is clearly only a fragment of her complete book (whatever that may have been); but it is enough to show that she was a worthy precursor of that other great woman mystic of east anglia: juliana of norwich. for margery, as for juliana, love is the interpretation of revelation, and the key to the universal mystery:[ ]-- "daughter, thou mayst no better please god, than to think continually in his love." "if thou wear the habergeon or the hair, fasting bread and water, and if thou saidest every day a thousand pater nosters, thou shalt not please me so well as thou dost when thou art in silence, and suffrest me to speak in thy soul." "daughter, if thou knew how sweet thy love is to me, thou wouldest never do other thing but love me with all thine heart." "in nothing that thou dost or sayest, daughter, thou mayst no better please god than believe that he loveth thee. for, if it were possible that i might weep with thee, i would weep with thee for the compassion that i have of thee." and, from the midst of her celestial contemplations, rises up the simple, poignant cry of human suffering: "lord, for thy great pain have mercy on my little pain." we are on surer ground with the treatise that follows, the song of angels.[ ] walter hilton--who died on march , --holds a position in the religious life and spiritual literature of england in the latter part of the fourteenth century somewhat similar to that occupied by richard rolle in its earlier years. like the hermit of hampole, he was the founder of a school, and the works of his followers cannot always be distinguished with certainty from his own. like his great master in the mystical way, richard of st. victor, hilton was an augustinian, the head of a house of canons at thurgarton, near newark. his great work, the scala perfectionis, or ladder of perfection, "which expoundeth many notable doctrines in contemplation," was first printed by wynkyn de worde in , and is still widely used for devotional reading. a shorter treatise, the epistle to a devout man in temporal estate, first printed by pynson in , gives practical guidance to a religious layman of wealth and social position, for the fulfilling of the duties of his state without hindrance to his making profit in the spiritual life. these, with the song of angels, are the only printed works that can be assigned to him with certainty, though many others, undoubtedly from his pen, are to be found in manuscripts, and a complete and critical edition of walter hilton seems still in the far future.[ ] the song of angels has been twice printed since the edition of pepwell.[ ] in profoundly mystical language, tinged with the philosophy of that mysterious neo-platonist whom we call the pseudo-dionysius, it tells of the wonderful "onehead," the union of the soul with god in perfect charity:-- "this onehead is verily made when the mights of the soul are reformed by grace to the dignity and the state of the first condition; that is, when the mind is firmly established, without changing and wandering, in god and ghostly things, and when the reason is cleared from all worldly and fleshly beholdings, and from all bodily imaginations, figures, and fantasies of creatures, and is illumined by grace to behold god and ghostly things, and when the will and the affection is purified and cleansed from all fleshly, kindly, and worldly love, and is inflamed with burning love of the holy ghost." but to this blessed condition none may attain perfectly here on earth. the writer goes on to speak of the mystical consolations and visitations granted to the loving soul in this life, distinguishing the feelings and sensations that are mere delusions, from those that truly proceed from the fire of love in the affection and the light of knowing in the reason, and are a very anticipation of that ineffable "onehead" in heaven. the three remaining treatises--the epistle of prayer, the epistle of discretion in stirrings of the soul, and the treatise of discerning of spirits[ ]--are associated in the manuscripts with four other works: the divine cloud of unknowing, the epistle of privy counsel, a paraphrase of the mystical theology of dionysius entitled dionise hid divinity, and the similar translation or paraphrase of the benjamin minor of richard of st. victor already considered.[ ] these seven treatises are all apparently by the same hand. the divine cloud of unknowing has been credited to walter hilton, as likewise to william exmew, or to maurice chauncy, carthusians of the sixteenth century, whereas the manuscripts are at least a hundred years earlier than their time; but it seems safer to attribute the whole series to an unknown writer of the second part of the fourteenth century, who "marks a middle point between rolle and hilton."[ ] the spiritual beauty of the three here reprinted--and, more particularly, of the epistle of prayer, with its glowing exposition of the doctrine of pure love--speaks for itself. they show us mysticism brought down, if i may say so, from the clouds for the practical guidance of the beginner along this difficult way. and, in the epistle of discretion, we find even a rare touch of humour; where the counsellor "conceives suspiciously" of his correspondent's spiritual stirrings, lest "they should be conceived on the ape's manner." like st. catherine of siena, though in a less degree, he has the gift of vision and the faculty of intuition combined with a homely common sense, and can illustrate his "simple meaning" with a smile. i have borrowed a phrase from st. catherine, "the cell of self-knowledge," la cella del cognoscimento di noi, as the title of this little volume. knowledge of self and purity of heart, the mystics teach, are the indispensable conditions for the highest mystical elevation. knowledge of self, for richard of st. victor, is the high mountain apart upon which christ is transfigured; for catherine of siena, it is the stable in which the pilgrim through time to eternity must be born again. "wouldest thou behold christ transfigured?" asks richard; "ascend this mountain; learn to know thyself."[ ] "thou dost see," writes catherine, speaking in the person of the eternal father, "this sweet and loving word born in a stable, while mary was journeying; to show to you, who are travellers, that you must ever be born again in the stable of knowledge of yourselves, where you will find him born by grace within your souls."[ ] the soul is a mirror that reflects the invisible things of god, and it is by purity of heart alone that this mirror is made clear. "therefore," writes richard of st. victor, "let whoso thirsts to see his god, wipe his mirror, purify his spirit. after he hath thus cleared his mirror and long diligently gazed into it, a certain clarity of divine light begins to shine through upon him, and a certain immense ray of unwonted vision to appear before his eyes. this light irradiated the eyes of him who said: lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us; thou hast put gladness in my heart. from the vision of this light which it sees with wonder in itself, the mind is wondrously inflamed and inspired to behold the light which is above itself."[ ] pepwell's volume has been made the basis of the present edition of these seven treatises; but, in each case, the text has been completely revised. the text of the benjamin, the epistle of prayer, the epistle of discretion, and the treatise of discerning of spirits, has been collated with that given by the harleian mss. and ; and, in most cases, the readings of the manuscripts have been adopted in preference to those of the printed version. the katherin has been collated with caxton's lyf; the margery kempe with wynkyn de worde's precious little volume in the university library of cambridge; and the song of angels with the text published by professor horstman from the camb. ms dd. v. . as the object of this book is not to offer a middle english text to students, but a small contribution to mystical literature, the orthography has been completely modernised, while i have attempted to retain enough of the original language to preserve the flavour of mediaeval devotion. edmund g. gardner. i. here followeth a very devout treatise, named benjamin, of the mights and virtues of man's soul, and of the way to true contemplation, compiled by a noble and famous doctor, a man of great holiness and devotion, named richard of saint victor a treatise named benjamin the prologue a great clerk that men call [ ] richard of saint victor, in a book that he maketh of the study of wisdom, witnesseth and saith that two mights are in a man's soul, given of the father of heaven of whom all good cometh. the one is reason, the other is affection; through reason we know, and through affection we feel or love. of reason springeth right counsel and ghostly wits; and of affection springeth holy desires and ordained[ ] feelings. and right as rachel and leah were both wives unto jacob, right so man's soul through light of knowing in the reason, and sweetness of love in the affection, is spoused unto god. by jacob is understanden god, by rachel is understanden reason, by leah is understanden affection. each of these wives, rachel and leah, took to them a maiden; rachel took bilhah, and leah took zilpah. bilhah was a great jangler, and zilpah was ever drunken and thirsty. by bilhah is understanden imagination, the which is servant unto reason, as bilhah was to rachel; by zilpah is understanden sensuality, the which is servant unto affection, as zilpah was to leah. and so much are these maidens needful to their ladies, that without them all this world might serve them of nought. for why, without imagination reason may not know, and without sensuality affection may not feel. and yet imagination cryeth so inconveniently[ ] in the ears of our heart that, for ought that reason her lady may do, yet she may not still her. and therefore it is that oft times when we should pray, so many divers fantasies of idle and evil thoughts cry in our hearts, that on no wise we may by our own mights drive them away. and thus it is well proved that bilhah is a foul jangler. and also the sensuality is evermore so thirsty, that all that affection her lady may feel,[ ] may not yet slake her thirst. the drink that she desireth is the lust of fleshly, kindly, and worldly delights,[ ] of the which the more that she drinketh the more she thirsteth; for why, for to fill the appetite of the sensuality, all this world may not suffice; and therefore it is that oft times when we pray or think on god and ghostly things, we would fain feel sweetness of love in our affection,[ ] and yet we may not, for are we so busy to feed the concupiscence of our sensuality; for evermore it is greedily asking, and we have a fleshly compassion thereof. and thus it is well proved that zilpah is evermore drunken and thirsty. and right as leah conceived of jacob and brought forth seven children, and rachel conceived of jacob and brought forth two children, and bilhah conceived of jacob and brought forth two children, and zilpah conceived of jacob and brought forth two children; right so the affection conceiveth through the grace of god, and bringeth forth seven virtues; and also the sensuality conceiveth through the grace of god, and bringeth forth two virtues; and also the reason conceiveth through the grace of god, and bringeth forth two virtues; and also the imagination conceiveth through the grace of god, and bringeth forth two virtues, or two beholdings. and the names of their children and of their virtues shall be known by this figure that followeth: husband: jacob temporally, god spiritually. wives to jacob: leah, that is to say, affection; rachel, that is to say, reason. maid to leah is zilpah, that is to understand, sensuality; and bilhah maiden to rachel, that is to understand, imagination. the sons of jacob and leah are these seven that followeth: reuben signifieth dread of pain; simeon, sorrow of sins; levi, hope of forgiveness; judah, love of righteousness; issachar, joy in inward sweetness; zebulun, hatred of sin; dinah, ordained shame. the sons of jacob and zilpah, servant of leah, are these: gad, abstinence; asher, patience. the sons of jacob and of rachel are these: joseph, discretion; benjamin, contemplation. the sons of jacob and bilhah, servant to rachel, are these: dan, sight of pain to come; and naphtali, sight of joy to come. in this figure it is shewed apertly of jacob and of his wives, and their maidens, and all their children. here it is to shew on what manner they were gotten, and in what order:-- first, it is to say of the children of leah; for why, it is read that she first conceived. the children of leah are nought else to understand but ordained affections or feelings in a man's soul; for why, if they were unordained, then were they not the sons of jacob. also the seven children of leah are seven virtues, for virtue is nought else but an ordained and a measured feeling in a man's soul. for then is man's feeling in soul ordained when it is of that thing that it should be; then it is measured when it is so much as it should be. these feelings in a man's soul may be now ordained and measured, and now unordained and unmeasured; but when they are ordained and measured, then are they accounted among the sons of jacob.[ ] capitulum i how the virtue of dread riseth in the affection the first child that leah conceived of jacob was reuben, that is, dread; and therefore it is written in the psalm: "the beginning of wisdom is the dread of our lord god."[ ] this is the first felt virtue in a man's affection, without the which none other may be had. and, therefore, whoso desireth to have such a son, him behoveth busily and oft also behold the evil that he hath done. and he shall, on the one party, think on the greatness of his trespass, and, on another party, the power of the doomsman.[ ] of such a consideration springeth dread, that is to say reuben, that through right is cleped "the son of sight."[ ] for utterly is he blind that seeth not the pains that are to come, and dreadeth not to sin. and well is reuben cleped the son of sight; for when he was born, his mother cried and said: "god hath seen my meekness."[ ] and man's soul, in such a consideration of his old sins and of the power of the doomsman, beginneth then truly to see god by feeling of dread, and also to be seen of god by rewarding of pity. capitulum ii how sorrow riseth in the affection while reuben waxeth, simeon is born; for after dread it needeth greatly that sorrow come soon. for ever the more that a man dreadeth the pain that he hath deserved, the bitterlier he sorroweth the sins that he hath done. leah in the birth of simeon cried and said: "our lord hath heard me be had in despite."[ ] and therefore is simeon cleped "hearing";[ ] for when a man bitterly sorroweth and despiseth his old sins, then beginneth he to be heard of god, and also for to hear the blessed sentence of god's own mouth: "blessed be they that sorrow, for they shall be comforted."[ ] for in what hour the sinner sorroweth and turneth from his sin, he shall be safe.[ ] thus witnesseth holy scripture. and also by reuben he is meeked,[ ] and by simeon he is contrite and hath compunction of tears; but, as witnesseth david in the psalm: "heart contrite and meeked god shall not despise";[ ] and without doubt such sorrow bringeth in true comfort of heart. capitulum iii how hope riseth in the affection but, i pray thee, what comfort may be to them that truly dread and bitterly sorrow for their old sins, ought but a true hope of forgiveness? the which is the third son of jacob, that is levi, the which is cleped in the story "a doing to."[ ] for when the other two children, dread and sorrow, are given of god to a man's soul, without doubt he this third, that is hope, shall not be delayed, but he shall be lone to;[ ] as the story witnesseth of levi, that, when his two brethren, reuben and simeon, were given to their mother leah, he, this levi, was done to. take heed of this word, that he was "done to" and not given. and therefore it is said that a man shall not presume of hope of forgiveness before the time that his heart be peeked in dread and contrite in sorrow; without these two, hope is presumption, and where these two are, hope is done to; and thus after sorrow cometh soon comfort, as david telleth in the psalm that "after the muchness of my sorrow in my heart," he saith to our lord, "thy comforts have gladded my soul."[ ] and therefore it is that the holy ghost is called paracletus, that is, comforter, for oft times he vouchethsafe to comfort a sorrowful soul. capitulum iv how love riseth in the affection from now forth beginneth a manner of homeliness for to grow between god and a man's soul; and also on a manner a kindling of love, in so much that oft times he feeleth him not only be visited of god and comforted in his coming, but oft times also he feeleth him filled with an unspeakable joy. this homeliness and this kindling of love first felt leah, when, after that levi was born, she cried with a great voice and said: "now shall my husband be coupled to me."[ ] the true spouse of our soul is god, and then are we truly coupled unto him, when we draw near him by hope and soothfast love. and right as after hope cometh love, so after levi was judah born, the fourth son of leah. leah in his birth cried and said: "now shall i shrive to our lord."[ ] and therefore in the story is judah cleped "shrift."[ ] also man's soul in this degree of love offereth it clearly to god, and saith thus: "now shall i shrive to our lord." for before this feeling of love in a man's soul, all that he doth is done more for dread than for love; but in this state a man's soul feeleth god so sweet, so merciful, so good, so courteous, so true, and so kind, so faithful, so lovely and so homely, that he leaveth nothing in him--might, wit, conning,[ ] or will--that he offereth not it clearly, freely, and homely unto him. this shrift is not only of sin, but of the goodness of god. great token of love it is when a man telleth to god that he is good. of this shrift speaketh david full oft times in the psalter, when he saith: "make it known to god, for he is good."[ ] lo, now have we said of four sons of leah. and after this she left bearing of children till another time; and so man's soul weeneth that it sufficeth to it when it feeleth that it loveth the true goods.[ ] and so it is enough to salvation, but not to perfection. for it falleth to a perfect soul both to be inflamed with the fire of love in the affection, and also to be illumined with the light of knowing in the reason. capitulum v how the double sight of pain and joy riseth in the imagination then when judah waxeth, that is to say, when love and desire of unseen true goods is rising and waxing in a man's affection; then coveteth rachel for to bear some children; that is to say, then coveteth reason to know these things that affection feeleth; for as it falleth to the affection for to love, so it falleth to the reason for to know. of affection springeth ordained and measured feelings; and of reason springeth right knowings[ ] and clear understandings. and ever the more that judah waxeth, that is to say love, so much the more desireth rachel bearing of children, that is to say, reason studieth after knowing. but who is he that woteth not how hard it is, and nearhand impossible to a fleshly soul the which is yet rude in ghostly studies, for to rise in knowing of unseeable[ ] things, and for to set the eye of contemplation in ghostly things? for why, a soul that is yet rude and fleshly, knoweth nought but bodily things, and nothing cometh yet to the mind but only seeable[ ] things. and, nevertheless, yet it looketh inward as it may; and that that it may not see yet clearly by ghostly knowing, it thinketh by imagination. and this is the cause why rachel had first children of her maiden than of herself. and so it is that, though all a man's soul may not yet get the light of ghostly knowing in the reason, yet it thinketh it sweet to hold the mind on god and ghostly things in the imagination. as by rachel we understand reason, so by her maiden bilhah we understand imagination. and, therefore, reason sheweth that it is more profitable for to think on ghostly things, in what manner so it be; yea, if it be in kindling of our desire with some fair imagination; than it is for to think on vanities and deceivable things of this world. and, therefore, of bilhah were born these two: dan and naphtali. dan is to say sight of pains to come; and naphtali, sight of joys to come. these two children are full needful and full speedful unto a working soul; the one for to put down evil suggestions of sins; and the other for to raise up our wills in working of good and in kindling of our desires. for as it falleth to dan to put down evil suggestions of sin by sight of pains to come, so it falleth to the other brother naphtali to raise up our wills in working of good, and in kindling of holy desires by sight of joys to come. and therefore holy men, when they are stirred to any unlawful thing, by inrising of any foul thought, as oft they set before their mind the pains that are to come; and so they slaken their temptation in the beginning, ere it rise to any foul delight in their soul. and as oft as their devotion and their liking in god and ghostly things cease and wax cold (as oft times it befalleth in this life, for corruption of the flesh and many other skills),[ ] so oft they set before their mind the joy that is to come. and so they kindle their will with holy desires, and destroy their temptation in the beginning, ere it come to any weariness or heaviness of sloth. and for that[ ] with dan we damn unlawful thoughts, therefore he is well cleped in the story "doom."[ ] and also his father jacob said of him thus: "dan shall deem his folk."[ ] and also it is said in the story that, when bilhah brought forth dan, rachel said thus: "our lord hath deemed me";[ ] that is to say: "our lord hath evened me unto my sister leah." and thus saith reason, when the imagination hath gotten the sight of pains to come, that our lord hath evened her with her sister affection; and she saith thus, for she hath the sight of pains to come in her imagination, of the which she had dread and sorrow in her feeling. and then after came naphtali, that is to say, the sight of joys to come. and in his birth spake rachel and said: "i am made like to my sister leah";[ ] and therefore is naphtali cleped in the story "likeness."[ ] and thus saith reason that she is made like to her sister affection. for there as she had gotten hope and love of joy to come in her feeling, she hath now gotten sight of joy to come in her imagination. jacob said of naphtali that he was "a hart sent out, giving speeches of fairhead."[ ] so it is that, when we imagine of the joys of heaven, we say that it is fair in heaven. for[ ] wonderfully kindleth naphtali our souls with holy desires, as oft as we imagine of the worthiness and the fairhead of the joys of heaven. capitulum vi how the virtues of abstinence and patience rise in the sensuality when leah saw that rachel her sister made great joy of these two bastards born of bilhah her maiden, she called forth her maiden zilpah, to put to her husband jacob; that she might make joy with her sister, having other two bastards gotten of her maiden zilpah. and thus it is seemly in man's soul for to be, that from the time that reason hath refrained the great jangling of imagination, and hath put her to be underlout[ ] to god, and maketh her to bear some fruit in helping of her knowing, that right so the affection refrain the lust and the thirst of the sensuality, and make her to be underlout to god, and so to bear some fruit in helping of her feeling. but what fruit may she bear, ought but that she learn to live temperately in easy things, and patiently in uneasy things? these are they, the children of zilpah, gad and asher: gad is abstinence, and asher is patience. gad is the sooner born child, and asher the latter; for first it needeth that we be attempered in ourself with discreet abstinence, and after that we bear outward disease[ ] in strength of patience. these are the children that zilpah brought forth in sorrow; for in abstinence and patience the sensuality is punished in the flesh; but that that is sorrow to the sensuality turneth to much comfort and bliss to the affection. and therefore it is that, when gad was born, leah cried and said: "happily"[ ]; and therefore gad is cleped in the story "happiness," or "seeliness."[ ] and so it is well said that abstinence in the sensuality is happiness[ ] in the affection. for why, ever the less that the sensuality is delighted in her lust, the more sweetness feeleth the affection in her love. also after when asher was born, leah said: "this shall be for my bliss";[ ] and therefore was asher called in the story "blessed."[ ] and so it is well said that patience in the sensuality is bliss in the affection. for why, ever the more disease that the sensuality suffereth, the more blessed is the soul in the affection. and thus by abstinence and patience we shall not only understand a temperance in meat and drink, and suffering of outward tribulation, but also [in] all manner of fleshly, kindly,[ ] and worldly delights, and all manner of disease, bodily and ghostly, within or without, reasonable or unreasonable, that by any of our five wits torment or delight the sensuality. on this wise beareth the sensuality fruit in help of affection, her lady. much peace and rest is in that soul that neither is drunken in the lust of the sensuality, nor grutcheth[ ] in the pain thereof. the first of these is gotten by gad and the latter by asher. here it is to wete that first was rachel's maiden put to the husband or the maiden of leah; and this is the skill why. for truly, but if the jangling of the imagination, that is to say, the in-running of vain thoughts, be first refrained, without doubt the lust of the sensuality may not be attempered. and therefore who so will abstain him from fleshly and worldly lusts, him behoveth first seldom or never think any vain thoughts.[ ] and also never in this life may a man perfectly despise the ease of the flesh, and not dread the disease, but if he have before busily beholden the meeds and the torments that are to come. but here it is to wete how that, with these four sons of these two maidens, the city of our conscience is kept wonderfully from all temptations. for all temptation either it riseth within by thought, or else without by some of our five wits. but within shall dan deem and damn evil thoughts by sight of pain; and without shall gad put against[ ] false delights by use of abstinence. dan waketh[ ] within, and gad without; and also their other two brethren helpen them full much: naphtali maketh peace within with dan, and asher biddeth gad have no dread of his enemies. dan feareth the heart with ugsomeness of hell, and naphtali cherisheth it with behighting[ ] of heavenly bliss. also asher helpeth his brother without, so that, through them both, the wall of the city is not broken. gad holdeth out ease, and asher pursueth disease. asher soon deceiveth his enemy, when he bringeth to mind the patience of his father[ ] and the behighting of naphtali, and thus oft times ever the more enemies he hath, the more matter he hath of overcoming. and therefore it is that, when he hath overcome his enemies (that is to say, the adversities of this world), soon he turneth him to his brother gad to help to destroy his enemies. and without fail, from that he be come, soon they turn the back, and flee. the enemies of gad are fleshly delights; but truly, from the time that a man have patience in the pain of his abstinence, false delights find no woning stead[ ] in him. capitulum vii how joy of inward sweetness riseth in the affection thus when the enemy fleeth and the city is peased,[ ] then beginneth a man to prove what the high peace of god is that passeth man's wit. and therefore it is that leah left bearing of children unto this time that gad and asher were born of zilpah, her maiden. for truly, but if it be so that a man have refrained the lust and the pain of his five wits in his sensuality by abstinence and patience, he shall never feel inward sweetness and true joy in god and ghostly things in the affection. this is that issachar, the fifth son of leah, the which in the story is cleped "meed."[ ] [and well is this joy of inward sweetness cleped "meed"];[ ] for this joy is the taste of heavenly bliss, the which is the endless meed of a devout soul, beginning here. leah, in the birth of this child, said: "god hath given me meed, for that i have given my maiden to my husband in bearing of children."[ ] and so it is good that we make our sensuality bear fruit in abstaining it from all manner of fleshly, kindly, and worldly delight, and in fruitful suffering of all fleshly and worldly disease; therefore our lord of his great mercy giveth us joy unspeakable and inward sweetness in our affection, in earnest[ ] of the sovereign joy and meed of the kingdom of heaven. jacob said of issachar that he was "a strong ass dwelling between the terms."[ ] and so it is that a man in this state, and that feeleth the earnest of everlasting joy in his affection, is as "an ass, strong and dwelling between the terms"; because that, be he never so filled in soul of ghostly gladness and joy in god, yet, for corruption of the flesh in this deadly life, him behoveth bear the charge of the deadly body, as hunger, thirst, and cold, sleep, and many other diseases; for the which he is likened to an ass as in body; but as in soul he is strong for to destroy all the passions and the lusts of the flesh by patience and abstinence in the sensuality, and by abundance of ghostly joy and sweetness in the affection. and also a soul in this state is dwelling between the terms of deadly life and undeadly life. he that dwelleth between the terms hath nearhand forsaken deadliness, but not fully, and hath nearhand gotten undeadliness, but not fully; for whiles that him needeth the goods of this world, as meat and drink and clothing, as it falleth to each man that liveth, yet his one foot is in this deadly life; and for great abundance of ghostly joy and sweetness that he feeleth in god, not seldom but oft, he hath his other foot in the undeadly life. thus i trow that saint paul felt, when he said this word of great desire: "who shall deliver me from this deadly body?"[ ] and when he said thus: "i covet to be loosed and to be with christ."[ ] and thus doth the soul that feeleth issachar in his affection, that is to say, the joy of inward sweetness, the which is understanden by issachar. it enforceth it to forsake this wretched life, but it may not; it coveteth to enter the blessed life, but it may not; it doth that it may, and yet it dwelleth between the terms. capitulum viii how perfect hatred of sin riseth in the affection and therefore it is that after issachar zebulun is born, that is to say, hatred of sin. and here it is to wete why that hatred of sin is never perfectly felt in a man's affection, ere the time that ghostly joy of inward sweetness be felt in the affection, and this is the skill: for ere this time was never the true cause of hatred felt in the affection. for the feeling of ghostly joy teacheth a man what sin harmeth the soul. and all after that the harm in the soul is felt much or little, thereafter is the hatred measured, more or less, unto the harming. but when a soul, by the grace of god and long travail, is come to feeling of ghostly joy in god, then it feeleth that sin hath been the cause of the delaying thereof. and also when he feeleth that he may not alway last in the feeling of that ghostly joy, for the corruption of the flesh, of the which corruption sin is the cause; then he riseth with a strong feeling of hatred against all sin and all kind of sin. this feeling taught david us to have, where he saith in the psalm: "be ye wroth and will ye not sin";[ ] that is thus to mean: be ye wroth with the sin, but not with the kind.[ ] for kind stirreth to the deed, but not to sin. and here it is to wete that this wrath and this hatred is not contrary to charity, but charity teacheth how it shall be had both in a man's self and in his even christian;[ ] for a man should [not] hate sin [so that he destroy his kind, but so that he destroy the sin and the appetite of sin] in his kind. and, as against our even christian, we ought to hate sin in him, and to love him; and of this hatred speaketh david in the psalm, where he saith thus: "with perfect hatred i hated them."[ ] and in another psalm he saith that "he had in hatred all wicked ways."[ ] thus it is well proved that, ere zebulun was born, judah and issachar were both born. for but if a man have had charity and ghostly joy in his feeling first, he may in no wise feel this perfect hatred of sin in his affection. for judah, that is to say, charity, teacheth us how we shall hate sin in ourself and in our brethren; and issachar, that is to say, ghostly feeling of joy in god, teacheth us why we shall hate sin in ourself and in our brethren. judah biddeth us hate sin and love the kind; and issachar biddeth us destroy the sin and save the kind; and thus it falleth for to be that the kind may be made strong in god and in ghostly things by perfect hatred and destroying of sin. and therefore is zebulun cleped in the story "a dwelling stead of strength."[ ] and leah said in his birth: "my husband shall now dwell with me";[ ] and so it is that god, that is the true husband of our soul, is dwelling in that soul, strengthening it in the affection with ghostly joy and sweetness in his love, that travaileth busily to destroy sin in himself and in others by perfect hatred of the sin and all the kind of sin. and thus it is said how zebulun is born. capitulum ix how ordained shame riseth and groweth in the affection but though all that a soul through grace feel in it perfect hatred of sin, whether it may yet live without sin? nay, sikerly;[ ] and therefore let no man presume of himself, when the apostle saith thus: "if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourself, and soothfastness is not in us."[ ] and also saint austin saith that he dare well say that there is no man living without sin.[ ] and i pray thee, who is he that sinneth not in ignorance? yea, and oft times it falleth that god suffereth those men to fall full grievously by the which he hath ordained other men's errors to be righted, that they may learn by their own falling how merciful they shall be in amending of others. and for that oft times men fall grievously in those same sins that they most hate, therefore, after hatred of sin, springeth ordained shame in a man's soul; and so it is that after zebulun was dinah born. as by zebulun hatred of sin, so by dinah is understanden ordained shame of sin. but wete thou well: he that felt never zebulun, felt never yet dinah. evil men have a manner of shame, but it is not this ordained shame. for why, if they had perfect shame of sin, they should not so customably do it with will and advisement;[ ] but they shame more with a foul cloth on their body, than with a foul thought in their soul. but what so thou be that weenest that thou hast gotten dinah, think whether thee would shame as much if a foul thought were in thine heart, as thee would if thou were made to stand naked before the king and all his royalme; and sikerly else wete it thou right well that thou hast not yet gotten ordained shame in thy feeling, if so be that thou have less shame with thy foul heart than with thy foul body, and if thou think more shame with thy foul body in the sight of men than with thy foul heart in the sight of the king of heaven and of all his angels and holy saints in heaven. lo, it is now said of the seven children of leah, by the which are understanden seven manner of affections in a man's soul, the which may be now ordained and now unordained, now measured and now unmeasured; but when they are ordained and measured, then are they virtues; and when they are unordained and unmeasured, then are they vices. thus behoveth a man have children[ ] that they be not only ordained, but also measured. then are they ordained when they are of that thing that they should be, and then are they unordained when they are of that thing that they should not be; and then are they measured when they are as much as they should be, and then are they unmeasured when they are more than they should be. for why, overmuch dread bringeth in despair, and overmuch sorrow casteth a man in to bitterness and heaviness of kind,[ ] for the which he is unable to receive ghostly comfort. and overmuch hope is presumption, and outrageous love is but flattering and faging,[ ] and outrageous gladness is dissolution and wantonness, and untempered hatred of sin is woodness.[ ] and on this manner, they are unordained and unmeasured, and thus are they turned in to vices, and then lose they the name of virtues, and may not be accounted amongst the sons of jacob, that is to say, god: for by jacob is understanden god, as it is shewed in the figure before. capitulum x how discretion and contemplation rise in the reason thus it seemeth that the virtue of discretion needeth to be had, with the which all others may be governed; for without it all virtues are turned in to vices. this is joseph, that is the late born child, but yet his father loveth him more than them all. for why, without discretion may neither goodness be gotten nor kept, and therefore no wonder though that virtue be singularly loved, without which no virtue may be had nor governed. but what wonder though this virtue be late gotten, when we may not win to the perfection of discretion without much custom and many travails of these other affections coming before? for first behoveth us to be used in each virtue by itself, and get the proof of them all serely,[ ] ere we may have full knowing of them all, or else can deem sufficiently of them all. and when we use us busily in these feelings and beholdings before said, oft times we fall and oft times we rise. then, by our oft falling, may we learn how much wariness us behoveth have in the getting and keeping of these virtues. and thus sometime, by long use, a soul is led into full discretion, and then it may joy in the birth of joseph. and before this virtue be conceived in a man's soul, all that these other virtues do, it is without discretion. and therefore, in as much as a man presumeth and enforceth him in any of these feelings beforesaid, over his might and out of measure, in so much the fouler he falleth and faileth of his purpose. and therefore it is that, after them all and last, is dinah born; for often, after a foul fall and a failing, cometh soon shame. and thus after many failings and failings, and shames following, a man learneth by the proof that there is nothing better than to be ruled after counsel, the which is the readiest getting of discretion. for why, he that doth all things with counsel, he shall never forthink[ ] it; for better is a sly man than a strong man; yea, and better is list than lither strength,[ ] and a sly man speaketh of victories. and here is the open skill why that neither leah nor zilpah nor bilhah might bear such a child, but only rachel; for, as it is said before, that of reason springeth right counsel, the which is very discretion, understanden by joseph, the first son of rachel; and then at the first bring we forth joseph in our reason when all that we are stirred to do, we do it with counsel. this joseph shall not only know what sins we are most stirred unto, but also he shall know the weakness of our kind, and after that either asketh, so shall he do remedy, and seek counsel at wiser than he, and do after them, or else he is not joseph, jacob's son born of rachel. and also by this foresaid[ ] joseph a man is not only learned to eschew the deceits of his enemies, but also oft a man is led by him to the perfect knowing of himself; and all after that a man knoweth himself, thereafter he profiteth in the knowing of god, of whom he is the image and the likeness. and therefore it is that after joseph is benjamin born. for as by joseph discretion, so by benjamin we understand contemplation. and both are they born of one mother, and gotten of one father. for through the grace of god lightening our reason, come we to the perfect knowing of ourself and of god, that is to say, after that it may be in this life. but long after joseph is benjamin born. for why, truly but if it so be that we use us busily and long in ghostly travails, with the which we are learned to know ourself, we may not be raised in to the knowing and contemplation of god. he doth for nought that lifteth up his eye to the sight of god, that is not yet able to see himself. for first i would that a man learned him to know the unseeable[ ] things of his own spirit, ere he presume to know the unseeable things of the spirit of god; and he that knoweth not yet himself and weeneth that he hath gotten somedeal knowing of the unseeable things of god, i doubt it not but that he is deceived; and therefore i rede that a man seek first busily for to know himself, the which is made to the image and the likeness of god as in soul. and wete thou well that he that desireth for to see god, him behoveth to cleanse his soul, the which is as a mirror in the which all things are clearly seen, when it is clean; and when the mirror is foul, then mayst thou see nothing clearly therein; and right so it is of thy soul, when it is foul, neither thou knowest thyself nor god. as when the candle brenneth, thou mayst then see the self candle[ ] by the light thereof, and other things also; right so, when thy soul brenneth in the love of god, that is, when thou feelest continually thine heart desire after the love of god, then, by the light of his grace that he sendeth in thy reason, thou mayst see both thine own unworthiness and his great goodness. and therefore cleanse thy mirror and proffer thy candle to the fire; and then, when thy mirror is cleansed and thy candle brenning, and it so be that thou wittily behold thereto, then beginneth there a manner of clarity of the light of god for to shine in thy soul, and a manner of sunbeam that is ghostly to appear before thy ghostly sight, through the which the eye of thy soul is opened to behold god and godly things, heaven and heavenly things, and all manner of ghostly things. but this sight is but by times, when god will vouchsafe for to give it to a working[ ] soul, the whiles it is in the battle of this deadly life; but after this life it shall be everlasting. this light shone in the soul of david, when he said thus in the psalm: "lord, the light of thy face is marked upon us; thou hast given gladness within mine heart."[ ] the light of god's face is the shining of his grace, that reformeth in us his image that hath been disfigured with the darkness of sin; and therefore a soul that brenneth in desire of his sight,[ ] if it hope for to have that that it desireth, wete it well it hath conceived benjamin. and, therefore, what is more healfull[ ] than the sweetness of this sight, or what softer thing may be felt? sikerly, none; and that woteth rachel full well. for why, reason saith that, in comparison of this sweetness, all other sweetness is sorrow, and bitter as gall before honey. nevertheless, yet may a man never come to such a grace by his own slight.[ ] for why, it is the gift of god without desert of man. but without doubt, though it be not the desert of man, yet no man may take such grace without great study and brenning desires coming before; and that woteth rachel full well, and therefore she multiplieth her study, and whetteth her desires, seeking desire upon desire;[ ] so that at the last, in great abundance of brenning desires and sorrow of the delaying of her desire, benjamin is born, and his mother rachel dieth;[ ] for why, in what time that a soul is ravished above itself by abundance of desires and a great multitude of love, so that it is inflamed with the light of the godhead, sikerly then dieth all man's reason. and therefore, what so thou be that covetest to come to contemplation of god, that is to say, to bring forth such a child that men clepen in the story benjamin (that is to say, sight of god), then shalt thou use thee in this manner. thou shalt call together thy thoughts and thy desires, and make thee of them a church, and learn thee therein for to love only this good word jesu, so that all thy desires and all thy thoughts are only set for to love jesu, and that unceasingly as it may be here; so that thou fulfill that is said in the psalm: "lord, i shall bless thee in churches";[ ] that is, in thoughts and desires of the love of jesu. and then, in this church of thoughts and desires, and in this onehead of studies and of wills, look that all thy thoughts, and all thy desires, and all thy studies, and all thy wills be only set in the love and the praising of this lord jesu, without forgetting, as far forth as thou mayst by grace, and as thy frailty will suffer; evermore meeking thee to prayer and to counsel, patiently abiding the will of our lord, unto the time that thy mind be ravished above itself, to be fed with the fair food of angels in the beholding of god and ghostly things:[ ] so that it be fulfilled in thee that is written in the psalm: ibi benjamin adolesentulus in mentis excessu;[ ] that is: "there is benjamin, the young child, in ravishing of mind." the grace of jesu keep thee evermore.[ ] amen deo gratias ii. here followeth divers doctrines devout and fruitful, taken out of the life of that glorious virgin and spouse of our lord, saint katherin of seenes. and first those which our lord taught and shewed to herself, and sith those which she taught and shewed unto others the first doctrine of our lord is this: "knowest thou not, daughter, who thou art and who i am? if thou know well these two words, thou art and shalt be blessed. thou art she that art nought; and i am he that am ought.[ ] if thou have the very knowledge of these two things in thy soul, thy ghostly enemy shall never deceive thee, but thou shalt eschew graciously all his malice;[ ] and thou shalt never consent to any thing that is against my commandments and precepts, but all grace, all truth, and all charity thou shalt win without any hardness." the second doctrine of our lord is this: "think on me, and i shall think on thee." in declaring of which doctrine she was wont to say that: "a soul which is verily united to god perceiveth not, seeth not, nor loveth not herself, nor none other soul, nor hath no mind of no creature but only on god." and these words she expoundeth more expressly, and saith thus: "such a soul seeth herself, that she is very nought of herself, and knoweth perfectly that all the goodness, with all the mights of the soul, is her maker's. she forsaketh utterly herself and all creatures, and hideth herself fully in her maker, our lord jesu; in so much that she sendeth fully and principally all her ghostly and bodily workings in to him; in whom she perceiveth that she may find all goodness, and all perfection of blessedness. and, therefore, she shall have no will to go out from such inward knowledge of him for nothing.[ ] and of this unity of love, that is increased every day in such a soul, she is transformed in a manner in to our lord, that she may neither think, nor understand, nor love, nor have no mind but god, or else in god. for she may not see herself, nor none other creature, but only in god; nor she may not love herself, nor none other, but only in god; nor she may have no mind of herself nor of none other, but only in god, nor she may have no mind but only of her maker. and therefore," she said, "we shall have none other business but only to think how we may please him, unto whom we have committed all our governance both in body and soul." the third doctrine of our lord is this; in obtaining of virtue and ghostly strength: "daughter, if thou wilt get unto thee virtue and also ghostly strength,[ ] thou must follow me. albeit that i might by my godly virtue have overcome all the power of the fiends by many manner ways of overcoming, yet, for to give you ensample by my manhood, i would not overcome him but only by taking of death upon the cross, that ye might be taught thereby, if ye will overcome your ghostly enemies, for to take the cross as i did; the which cross shall be to you a great refreshing in all your temptations, if ye have mind of the pains that i suffered thereon.[ ] and certainly the pains of the cross may well be called refreshing of temptations, for the more pain ye suffer for my love, the more like ye be to me. and if ye be so like to me in passion, needs ye must be like to me in joy.[ ] therefore for my love, daughter, suffer patiently bitter things, and not sweet things; and doubt in no wise, for thou shalt be strong enough for to suffer all things patiently." the first doctrine of this glorious virgin is this: "a soul which is verily mete[ ] to god, as much as it hath of the love of god, so much it hath of the hate of her own sensuality. for of the love of god naturally cometh hate of sin, the which is done against god. the soul, therefore, considering that the root and beginning of sin reigneth in the sensuality, and there principally is rooted, she is moved and stirred highly and holily with all her mights against her own sensuality; not utterly to destroy the root, for that may not be, as long as the soul dwelleth in the body living in this life, but ever there shall be left a root, namely of small venial sins. and because she may not utterly destroy the root of sin thus in her sensuality, she conceiveth a great displeasaunce against her sensuality, of the which displeasaunce springeth an holy hate and a despising of the sensuality, by the which the soul is ever well kept from her ghostly enemies. there is nothing that keepeth the soul so strong and so sure as doth such an holy hate. and that felt well the apostle, when he said: cum infirmor, tonc fortior sum et potens;[ ] that is: when i am sick and feeble in my sensuality by hate of sin, then am i stronger and mightier in my soul. lo, of such hate cometh virtue, of such feebleness cometh strength, and of such displeasaunce cometh pleasaunce. this holy hate maketh a man meek, and to feel meek things of himself. it maketh him patient in adversity, temperate in prosperity, and setteth him in all honesty of virtue, and maketh him to be loved both of god and man. and where this holy hate is not, there is inordinate love, which is the stinking canal of all sin, and root[ ] of all evil concupiscence. do therefore," she saith, "your business to put away such inordinate love of your own self, out of your hearts, and plant therein holy hate of sin. for certain that is the right way to perfection, and amendment of all sin." here is a common answer which she used to say to the fiends: "i trust in my lord jesu christ, and not in myself." here is a rule how we shall behave us in time of temptation: "when temptation," she saith, "ariseth in us, we should never dispute nor make questions; for that is," she saith, "that the fiend most seeketh of us for to fall in questions with him. he trusteth so highly in the great subtlety of his malice, that he should overcome us with his sophistical reasons. therefore a soul should never make questions, nor answer to the questions of the fiend, but rather turn her to devout prayer, and commend her to our lord that she consent not to his subtle demands; for by virtue of devout prayer, and steadfast faith, we may overcome all the subtle temptations of the fiend." here is a good conceit of this holy maid to eschew the temptations of the fiend: "it happeneth," she said, "that otherwhile[ ] the devout fervour of a soul loving our lord jesu, either by some certain sin, or else by some new subtle temptations of the fiend, waxeth dull and slow, and otherwhile it is brought to very coldness;[ ] in so much that some unwitty folks, considering that they be destitute from the ghostly comfort the which they were wont to have, leave[ ] therefore the ghostly exercise that they were wont to use of prayer, of meditations, of reading, of holy communications, and of penance doing; whereby they be made more ready to be overcome of the fiend. for he desireth nothing else of christ's knights, but that they should put away their armour by the which they were wont to overcome their enemies. a wise knight of our lord jesu should not do so. but thus, the more he feeleth[ ] himself dull and slow, or cold in devotion, the rather he should continue in his ghostly exercise, and not for to make them less, but rather increase them." here is another doctrine of this holy maid, the which she used to say to herself in edifying of others: "thou vile and wretched creature, art thou worthy any manner of comfort in this life? why hast thou not mind of thy sins? what supposest thou of thyself, wretched sinner? is it not enough to thee, trowest thou not, that thou art escaped by the mercy of our lord from everlasting damnation? therefore thou shouldest be well apaid,[ ] wretch, though thou suffer all the pains and darkness of thy soul all the days of thy life. why art thou, then, heavy and sorrowful to suffer such pains, sith by god's grace thou shalt escape endless pains with christ jesu without any doubt, and be comforted endlessly, if thou bear these pains patiently. whether hast thou chosen to serve our lord only for the comfort that thou mayst have of him in this life? nay, but for the comfort that thou shalt have of him in the bliss of heaven. therefore arise up now, and cease never of thy ghostly exercise that thou hast used, but rather increase to them more." here is an answer by the which she had a final victory of the fiend, after long threats of intolerable pains: "i have chosen pain for my refreshing, and therefore it is not hard to me to suffer them, but rather delectable for the love of my saviour, as long as it pleaseth his majesty that i shall suffer them." here is a doctrine of the said virgin, how we should use the grace of our lord: "who so could use the grace of our lord, he should ever have the victory of all things that falleth to him. for as often," she said, "as any new thing falleth to a man, be it of prosperity or adversity, he should think in himself thus: of this will i win somewhat. for he that can do so, shall soon be rich in virtue." here followeth notable doctrines of this holy maid, taken of her sermon which she made to her disciples before her passing, and the first was this: "what so ever he be that cometh to the service of god, if he will have god truly, it is needful to him that he make his heart naked from all sensible love, not only of certain persons but of every creature what that ever he be, and then he should stretch up his soul to our lord and our maker, simply, with all the desire of his heart. for an heart may not wholly be given to god, but if it be free from all other love, open and simple without doubleness." and so she affirmed of herself, that it was her principal labour and business from her young age unto that time, ever for to come to that perfection. also she said that she knew well that to such a state of perfection, in the which all the heart is given to god, a soul may not come perfectly without meditation of devout prayer, and that the prayer be grounded in meekness, and that it come not forth and proceed by any trust of any manner of virtue of him that prayeth, but alway he should know himself to be right nought. for she said that that was ever her business, to give herself to the exercise of prayer, so for to win the continual habit of prayer; for she did see well that by prayer all virtues are increased, and made mighty and strong; and, without prayer, they wax feeble and defail.[ ] wherefore she induced her disciples that they should busy them to prayer perseverauntly; and therefore she told them of two manner of prayers:[ ] vocal and mental. vocal prayers, she said, should be kept certain hours in the night and in the day ordained by holy church; but mental prayer should ever be had, in act or in habit of the soul. also she said that, by the light of quick faith, she saw clearly and conceived in her soul that what that ever befell to her, or to any others, all cometh from god, not for hate but for great love that he hath to his creatures; and by[ ] this quick faith she conceived in herself a love and a readiness to obey as well to the precepts of her sovereigns,[ ] as to the commandments of god, ever thinking that their precepts should come from god, either for need of herself, or else for increase of virtue in her soul. also she said, for to get and purchase purity of soul, it were right necessary that a man kept himself from all manner of judgments of his [neighbour, and from all idle speaking of his][ ] neighbour's deeds; for in every creature we should behold only the will of god. and therefore she said that in no wise men should deem[ ] creatures; that is, neither despise them by their doom[ ] nor condemn them, all be it that they see them do open sin before them; but rather they should have compassion on them and pray for them, and despise them not, nor condemn them. also she said that she had great hope and trust in god's providence; for, she said, she knew well[ ] by experience that the divine providence was and is a passing great thing, for it wanteth never to them that hopeth in it. deo gratis iii. here beginneth a short treatise of contemplation taught by our lord jesu christ, or taken out of the book of margery kempe, ancress of lynn she desired many times that her head might be smitten off with an axe upon a block for the love of our lord jesu. then said our lord jesu in her mind: "i thank thee, daughter, that thou wouldest die for my love; for as often as thou thinkest so, thou shalt have the same meed in heaven, as if thou suffredest the same death, and yet there shall no man slay thee. "i assure thee in thy mind, if it were possible for me to suffer pain again, as i have done before, me were lever to suffer as much pain as ever i did for thy soul alone, rather than thou shouldest depart from me everlastingly. "daughter, thou mayst no better please god, than to think continually in his love." then she asked our lord jesu christ, how she should best love him. and our lord said: "have mind of thy wickedness, and think on my goodness. "daughter, if thou wear the habergeon or the hair,[ ] fasting bread and water, and if thou saidest every day a thousand pater nosters, thou shalt[ ] not please me so well as thou dost when thou art in silence, and suffrest me to speak in thy soul. "daughter, for to bid many beads, it is good to them that can not better do, and yet it is not perfect.[ ] but it is a good way toward perfection. for i tell thee, daughter, they that be great fasters, and great doers of penance, they would that it should be holden the best life.[ ] and they that give them unto many devotions, they would have that the best life. and those that give much almesse, they would that it were holden the best life. and i have often told thee, daughter, that thinking, weeping, and high contemplation is the best life in earth, and thou shalt have more merit in heaven for one year thinking in thy mind than for an hundred year of praying with thy mouth; and yet thou wilt not believe me, for thou wilt bid many beads.[ ] "daughter, if thou knew how sweet thy love is to me, thou wouldest never do other thing but love me with all thine heart. "daughter, if thou wilt be high with me in heaven, keep me alway in thy mind as much as thou mayst, and forget not me at thy meat; but think alway that i sit in thine heart and know every thought that is therein, both good and bad. "daughter, i have suffered many pains for thy love; therefore thou hast great cause to love me right well, for i have bought thy love full dear." "dear lord," she said, "i pray thee, let me never have other joy in earth, but mourning and weeping for thy love; for me thinketh, lord, though i were in hell, if i might weep there and mourn for thy love as i do here, hell should not noye[ ] me, but it should be a manner of heaven. for thy love putteth away all manner of dread of our ghostly enemy; for i had lever be there, as long as thou wouldest, and please thee, than to be in this world and displease thee; therefore, good lord, as thou wilt, so may[ ] it be." she had great wonder that our lord would become man, and suffer so grievous pains, for her that was so unkind a creature to him. and then, with great weeping, she asked our lord jesu how she might best please him; and he answered to her soul, saying: "daughter, have mind of thy wickedness, and think on my goodness." then she prayed many times and often these words: "lord, for thy great goodness, have mercy on my great wickedness, as certainly as i was never so wicked as thou art good, nor never may be though i would; for thou art so good, that thou mayst no better be; and, therefore, it is great wonder that ever any man should be departed from thee without end." when she saw the crucifix, or if she saw a man had a wound, or a beast, or if a man beat a child before her, or smote a horse or another beast with a whip, if she might see it or hear it, she thought she saw our lord beaten or wounded, like as she saw in the man or in the beast. the more she increased in love and in devotion, the more she increased in sorrow and contrition, in lowliness[ ] and meekness, and in holy dread of our lord jesu, and in knowledge of her own frailty. so that if she saw any creature be punished or sharply chastised, she would think that she had been more worthy to be chastised than that creature was, for her unkindness against god. then would she weep for her own sin, and for compassion of that creature. our lord said to her: "in nothing that thou dost or sayest, daughter, thou mayst no better please god than believe that he loveth thee. for, if it were possible that i might weep with thee, i would weep with thee for the compassion that i have of thee." our merciful lord jesu christ drew this creature unto his love, and to the mind of his passion, that she might not endure to behold a leper, or another sick man, specially if he had any wounds appearing on him. so she wept as if she had seen our lord jesu with his wounds bleeding; and so she did, in the sight of the soul; for, through the beholding of the sick man, her mind was all ravished in to our lord jesu, that she had great mourning and sorrowing that she might not kiss the leper when she met them in the way, for the love of our lord: which was all contrary to her disposition in the years of her youth and prosperity, for then she abhorred them most. our lord said: "daughter, thou hast desired in thy mind to have many priests in the town of lynn, that might sing and read night and day for to serve me, worship me, and praise me, and thank me for the goodness that i have done to thee in earth; and therefore, daughter, i promise thee that thou shalt have meed and reward in heaven for the good wills and good desires, as if thou haddest done them in deed. "daughter, thou shalt have as great meed and as great reward with me in heaven, for thy good service and thy good deeds that thou hast done in thy mind, as if thou haddest done the same with thy bodily wits withoutforth.[ ] "and, daughter, i thank thee for the charity that thou hast to all lecherous men and women; for thou prayest for them and weepest for them many a tear, desiring that i should deliver them out of sin, and be as gracious to them as i was to mary magdalene, that they might have as much grace to love me as mary magdalene had; and with this condition thou wouldest that everich[ ] of them should have twenty pounds a year to love and praise me; and, daughter, this great charity which thou hast to them in thy prayer pleaseth me right well. and, daughter, also i thank thee for the charity which thou hast in thy prayer, when thou prayest for all jews and saracens, and all heathen people that they should come to christian faith, that my name might be magnified in them. furthermore, daughter, i thank thee for the general charity that thou hast to all people that be now in this world, and to all those that are to come unto the world's end; that thou wouldest be hacked as small as flesh to the pot for their love, so that i would by thy death save them all from damnation, if it pleased me. and, therefore, daughter, for all these good wills and desires, thou shalt have full meed and reward in heaven, believe it right well and doubt never a deal." she said: "good lord, i would be laid naked upon an hurdle for thy love, all men to wonder on me and to cast filth and dirt on me, and be drawen from town to town every day my life time, if thou were pleased thereby, and no man's soul hindered. thy will be fulfilled and not mine." "daughter," he said, "as oftentimes as thou sayest or thinkest: worshipped be all the holy places in jerusalem, where christ suffered bitter pain and passion in: thou shalt have the same pardon as if thou were there with thy bodily presence, both to thyself and to all those that thou wilt give to.[ ] "the same pardon that was granted thee aforetime, it was confirmed on saint nicholas day, that is to say, playne[ ] remission; and it is not only granted to thee, but also to all those that believe, and to all those that shall believe unto the world's end, that god loveth thee, and shall thank god for thee. if they will forsake their sin, and be in full will no more to turn again thereto, but be sorry and heavy for that they have done, and will do due penance therefore, they shall have the same pardon that is granted to thyself; and that is all the pardon that is in jerusalem,[ ] as was granted thee when thou were at rafnys."[ ] that day that she suffered no tribulation for our lord's sake, she was not merry nor glad, as that day when she suffered tribulation. our lord jesus said unto her: "patience is more worth than miracles doing. daughter, it is more pleasure to me that thou suffer despites, scorns, shames, reproofs, wrongs, and diseases, than if thine head were stricken off three times a day every day in seven year." "lord," she said, "for thy great pain have mercy on my little pain." when she was in great trouble, our lord said: "daughter, i must needs comfort thee, for now thou hast the right way to heaven. by this way came i and all my disciples; for now thou shalt know the better what sorrow and shame i suffered for thy love, and thou shalt have the more compassion when thou thinkest on my passion." "o my dear worthy lord," said she, "these graces thou shouldest shew to religious men and to priests." our lord said to her again: "nay, nay, daughter, for that i love best that they love not, and that is shames, reproofs, scorns, and despites of the people; and therefore they shall not have this grace; for, daughter, he that dreadeth the shames of this world may not perfectly love god." here endeth a short treatise of a devout ancress called margery kempe of lynn iv. here followeth a devout treatise compiled by master walter hylton of the song of angels dear brother in christ, i have understanding by thine own speech, and also by telling of another man, that thou yearnest and desirest greatly for to have more knowledge and understanding than thou hast of angel's song and heavenly sound; what it is, and on what wise it is perceived and felt in a man's soul, and how a man may be siker that it is true and not feigned; and how it is made by the presence of the good angel, and not by the inputting of the evil angel. these things thou wouldest wete of me; but, soothly, i cannot tell thee for a surety the soothfastness of this matter; nevertheless somewhat, as me thinketh, i shall shew thee in a short word. wete thou well that the end and the sovereignty of perfection standeth in very onehead[ ] of god and of a man's soul by perfect charity. this onehead, then, is verily made when the mights of the soul are reformed by grace to the dignity and the state of the first condition; that is, when the mind is stabled sadly,[ ] without changing and vagation,[ ] in god and ghostly things, and when the reason is cleared from all worldly and fleshly beholdings, and from all bodily imaginations, figures, and fantasies of creatures, and is illumined by grace to behold god and ghostly things, and when the will and the affection is purified and cleansed from all fleshly, kindly, and worldly love, and is inflamed with brenning love of the holy ghost. this wonderful onehead may not be fulfilled[ ] perfectly, continually, and wholly in this life, for the corruption of the flesh, but only in the bliss of heaven. nevertheless, the nearer that a soul in this present life may come to this onehead, the more perfect it is. for the more that it is reformed by grace to the image and the likeness of its creator here on this wise; the more joy and bliss shall it have in heaven. our lord god is an endless being without changing, almighty without failing, sovereign wisdom, light, soothness without error or darkness; sovereign goodness, love, peace, and sweetness. then the more that a soul is united, fastened, conformed, and joined to our lord, the more stable and mighty it is, the more wise and clear, good and peaceable, loving and more virtuous it is, and so it is more perfect. for a soul that hath by the grace of jesu, and long travail of bodily and ghostly exercise, overcome and destroyed concupiscences, and passions, and unskilful stirrings[ ] within itself, and without in the sensuality, and is clothed all in virtues, as in meekness and mildness, in patience and softness, in ghostly strength and righteousness, in continence, in wisdom, in truth, hope and charity; then it is made perfect, as it may be in this life. much comfort it receiveth of our lord, not only inwardly in its own privy substance,[ ] by virtue of the onehead to our lord that lieth in knowing and loving of god, in light and ghostly brenning of him, in transforming of the soul in to the godhead; but also many other comforts, savours, sweetnesses, and wonderful feelings on sere[ ] or sundry manners, after that our lord vouchethsafe to visit his creatures here in earth, and after that the soul profiteth and waxeth in charity. some soul, by virtue of charity that god giveth it, is so cleansed, that all creatures, and all that he heareth, or seeth, or feeleth by any of his wits, turneth him to comfort and gladness; and the sensuality receiveth new savour and sweetness in all creatures.[ ] and right as beforetime the likings in the sensuality were fleshly, vain, and vicious, for the pain of the original sin; right so now they are made ghostly and clean, without bitterness and biting of conscience. and this is the goodness of our lord, that sith the soul is punished in the sensuality, and the flesh is partner of the pain, that afterward the soul be comforted in the sensuality, and the flesh be fellow of joy and comfort with the soul, not fleshly, but ghostly, as he was fellow in tribulation and pain. this is the freedom and the lordship, the dignity, and the worship that a man[ ] hath over all creatures, the which dignity he may so recover by grace here, that every creature savour to him as it is. and that is, when by grace he seeth, he heareth, he feeleth only god in all creatures. on this manner of wise a soul is made ghostly in the sensuality by abundance of charity, that is, in the substance of the soul. also, our lord comforteth a soul by angel's song. what that song is, it may not be described by no bodily likeness, for it is ghostly, and above all manner of imagination and reason. it may be felt and perceived in a soul, but it may not be shewed. nevertheless, i shall speak thereof to thee as me thinketh. when a soul is purified by the love of god, illumined by wisdom, stabled by the might of god, then is the eye of the soul opened to behold ghostly things, as virtues and angels and holy souls, and heavenly things.[ ] then is the soul able because of cleanness to feel the touching, the speaking of good angels. this touching and speaking, it is ghostly and not bodily.[ ] for when the soul is lifted and ravished out of the sensuality, and out of mind of any earthly things, then in great fervour of love and light (if our lord vouchsafe) the soul may hear and feel heavenly sound, made by the presence of angels in loving of god. not that this song of angels is the sovereign joy of the soul; but for the difference that is between a man's soul in flesh and an angel, because of uncleanness, a soul may not hear it, but by ravishing in love, and needeth for to be purified well clean, and fulfilled of much charity, or[ ] it were able for to hear heavenly sound. for the sovereign and the essential joy is in the love of god by himself and for himself, and the secondary is in communing and beholding of angels and ghostly creatures. for right as a soul, in understanding of ghostly things, is often times touched and moved through bodily imagination by working of angels; as ezekiel the prophet did see in bodily imagination the soothfastness of god's privities;[ ] right so, in the love of god, a soul by the presence of angels is ravished out of mind of all earthly and fleshly things in to an heavenly joy, to hear angel's song and heavenly sound, after that the charity is more or less.[ ] now, then, me thinketh that there may no soul feel verily angel's song nor heavenly sound, but he be in perfect charity; though all that are in perfect charity have not felt it, but only that soul that is so purified in the fire of love that all earthly savour is brent out of it, and all mean letting[ ] between the soul and the cleanness of angels is broken and put away from it. then soothly may he sing a new song, and soothly he may hear a blessed heavenly sound, and angel's song without deceit or feigning. our lord woteth there that soul is that, for abundance of brenning love, is worthy to hear angel's song. who so then will hear angel's song, and not be deceived by feigning of himself, nor by imagination, nor by the illusion of the enemy, him behoveth for to have perfect charity; and that is when all vain love and dread, vain joy and sorrow, is cast out of the heart, so that it love nothing but god, nor dread nothing but god, nor joyeth, nor sorroweth nothing but in god, or for god. who so might by the grace of god go this way, he should not err. nevertheless, some men are deceived by their own imagination, or by the illusion of the enemy in this manner.[ ] some man, when he hath long travailed bodily and ghostily in destroying of sins and getting of virtues, and peradventure hath gotten by grace a somedeal[ ] rest, and a clarity in conscience, anon he leaveth prayers, readings of holy scriptures, and meditations of the passion of christ, and the mind of his wretchedness; and, or[ ] he be called of god, he gathereth his own visits by violence to seek and to behold heavenly things, or his eye be made ghostly by grace, and overtravaileth by imaginations his wits, and by indiscreet travailing turneth the brains in his head, and forbreaketh[ ] the mights and the wits of the soul and of the body. and then, for feebleness of the brain, him thinketh that he heareth wonderful sounds and songs; and that is nothing else but a fantasy, caused of troubling of the brain; as a man that is in a frenzy him thinketh that he heareth and seeth that none other man doth; and all is but vanity and fantasies of the head, or else it is by working of the wicked enemy that feigneth such sounds in his hearing. for if a man have any presumption in his fantasies and in his workings, and thereby falleth in to indiscreet imagination, as it were in a frenzy, and is not ordered nor ruled of grace, nor comforted by ghostly strength, the devil entereth in, and by his false illuminations, and by his false sounds, and by his false sweetnesses, he deceiveth a man's soul. and of this false ground springeth errors, and heresies, false prophecies, presumptions, and false reasonings, blasphemings, and slanderings, and many other mischiefs. and, therefore, if thou see any man ghostly occupied fall in any of these sins and these deceits, or in frenzies, wete thou well that he never heard nor felt angel's song nor heavenly sound. for, soothly, he that heareth verily angel's song, he is made so wise that he shall never err by fantasy, nor by indiscretion, nor by no slight[ ] of working of the devil. also, some men feel in their hearts as it were a ghostly sound, and sweet songs in divers manners; and this is commonly good, and sometime it may turn to deceit. this sound is felt on this wise. some man setteth the thought of his heart only in the name of jesu, and steadfastly holdeth it thereto, and in short time him thinketh that that name turneth him to great comfort and sweetness, and him thinketh that the name soundeth in his heart delectably, as it were a song; and the virtue of this liking is so mighty, that it draweth in all the wits of the soul thereto. who so may feel this sound and this sweetness verily in his heart, wete thou well that it is of god,[ ] and, as long as he is meek, he shall not be deceived. but this is not angel's song; but it is a song of the soul by virtue of the name and by touching of the good angel.[ ] for when a soul offereth him to jesu truly and meekly, putting all his trust and his desire in him, and busily keepeth him in his mind, our lord jesu, when he will, pureth[ ] the affection of the soul, and filleth it, and feedeth it with sweetness of himself, and maketh his name in the feeling of the soul[ ] as honey, and as song, and as any thing that is delectable; so that it liketh the soul evermore for to cry jesu, jesu. and not only he hath comfort in this, but also in psalms and hymns, and anthems of holy church, that the heart singeth them sweetly, devoutly, and freely, without any travail of the soul, or bitterness in the same time,[ ] and notes that holy church useth. this is good, and of the gift of god, for the substance of this feeling lies in the love of jesu, which is fed and lightened[ ] by such manner of songs. nevertheless, in this manner of feeling, a soul may be deceived by vain glory; not in that time that the affection singeth to jesu, and loveth jesu in sweetness of him, but afterward, when it ceaseth and the heart keeleth[ ] of the love of jesu, then entereth in vain glory. also some man is deceived on this wise: he heareth well say that it is good to have jesu in his mind, or any other good word of god; then he straineth his heart mightily to that name, and by a custom he hath it nearhand alway in his mind; and, nevertheless, he feeleth not thereby in his affection sweetness, nor light of knowing in his reason, but only a naked mind of god,[ ] or of jesu, or of mary, or of any other good word. here may be deceit, not for it is evil for to have jesu in mind on this wish but if he this feeling and this mind, that is only his own working by custom, hold it a special visitation of our lord,[ ] and think it more than it is. for wete thou well that a naked mind or a naked imagination of jesu, or of any ghostly thing, without sweetness of love in the affection, or without light of knowing in reason, it is but a blindness, and a way to deceit, if a man hold it in his own sight more than it is. therefore i hold it siker[ ] that he be meek in his own feeling, and hold this mind in regard nought, till he may, by custom and using of this mind, feel the fire of love in his affection, and the light of knowing in his reason. lo, i have told thee in this matter a little, as me thinketh; not affirming that this sufficeth, nor that this is the soothfastness in this matter. but if thou think it otherwise, or else any other man savour by grace the contrary hereto, i leave this saying, and give stead to him; it sufficeth to me for to live in truth[ ] principally, and not in feeling. explicit v. here after followeth a devout treatise called the epistle of prayer ghostly friend in god, as touching thine asking of me, how thou shalt rule thine heart in the time of thy prayer, i answer unto thee thus feebly as i can. and i say that me thinketh that it should be full speedful unto thee at the first beginning of thy prayer, what prayer so ever it be, long or short, for to make it full known unto thine heart, without any feigning, that thou shalt die at the end of thy prayer.[ ] and wete thou well that this is no feigned thought that i tell thee, and see why; for truly there is no man living in this life that dare take upon him to say the contrary: that is to say, that thou shalt live longer than thy prayer is in doing. and, therefore, thou mayst think it safely, and i counsel thee to do it. for, if thou do it, thou shalt see that, what for the general sight that thou hast of thy wretchedness, and this special sight of the shortness of time of amendment, it shall bring in to thine heart a very working of dread. and this working shalt thou feel[ ] verily folden in thine heart, but if it so be (the which god forbid) that thou flatter and fage[ ] thy false fleshly blind heart with leasings[ ] and feigned behightings, that thou shalt longer live.[ ] for though it may be sooth in thee in deed that thou shalt live longer, yet it is ever in thee a false leasing for to think it before, and for to behight[ ] it to thine heart. for why, the soothfastness of this thing is only in god, and in thee is but a blind abiding of his will, without certainty of one moment, the which is as little or less than a twinkling of an eye. and, therefore, if thou wilt pray wisely as the prophet biddeth when he saith in the psalm: psallite sapienter; look that thou get thee in the beginning this very working of dread. for, as the same prophet saith in another psalm: initium sapientiae timor domini; that is: "the beginning of wisdom is the dread of our lord god." but for that there is no full sikerness standing[ ] upon dread only, for fear of sinking in to over much heaviness, therefore shalt thou knit to thy first thought this other thought that followeth. thou shalt think steadfastly that if thou may, through the grace of god, distinctly pronounce the words of that prayer, and win to the end thereof, or if thou die before thou come to the end, so that thou do that in thee is, that then it shall be accepted of thee unto god, as a full aseeth[ ] of all thy recklessness from the beginning of thy life unto that moment. i mean thus: standing that thou hast before time, after thy conning and thy conscience, lawfully amended thee after the common ordinance of holy church in confession; this short prayer, so little as it is, shall be accepted of thee unto god for thy full salvation, if thou then didst die, and to the great increase of thy perfection, if thou didst live longer. this is the goodness of god, the which, as the prophet saith, forsaketh none that truly trusteth in him with will of amendment;[ ] and sith that all amendment standeth in two--that is, in leaving of evil and doing of good--means to get these two are none readier than the ghostly working of these two thoughts touched before. for what reaveth from a soul[ ] more readily the affection of sinning, than doth a true working of dread of death? and what moveth a soul[ ] more fervently to working of good, than doth a certain hope in the mercy and the goodness of god, the which is brought in by this second thought? for why, the ghostly feeling of this second thought, when it is thus truly joined to the first, shall be to thee a sure staff of hope to hold thee by in all thy good doings. and by this staff thou mayst sikerly climb in to the high mount of perfection, that is to say, to the perfect love of god; though all this beginning be imperfect, as thou shalt hear after. for, what for the general sight that thou hast of the mercy and of the goodness of god, and this special experience that thou feelest of his mercy and his goodness in this acceptation of this little short service for so long recklessness, as it were in a full aseeth of so much recklessness (as it is said before), it may not be but that thou shalt feel a great stirring of love unto him that is so good and so merciful unto thee--as the steps of thy staff, hope, plainly sheweth unto thee in the time of thy prayer, if thou do it duly as i have told thee before.[ ] the ghostly experience of the proof of this working standeth all in a reverent affection that a man hath to god in the time of his prayer, caused of this dread in the ground of this work, and of this stirring of love, the which is brought in by the ghostly steps of this staff hope, touched before. for why, reverence is nought else but dread and love medled together with a staff of certain hope, me thinketh that the proof of this working is devotion; for devotion is nought else, as saint thomas the doctor saith, but a readiness of man's will to do those things that longeth to the service of god.[ ] each man prove in himself, for he that doth god's service in this manner, he feeleth how ready that his will is thereto. me thinketh that saint bernard accordeth to this working, where he saith that all things should be done swiftly and gladly. and see why: swiftly for dread, and gladly for hope, and lovely trust in his mercy. [and what more? sikerly, i had lever have his meed that lasteth in such doing, though all he never did bodily penance in this life, but only that that is enjoined to him of holy church, than of all the penance-doers that have been in this life from the beginning of the world unto this day without this manner of doing. i say not that the naked thinking of these two thoughts is so meedful; but that reverent affection, to the which bringing in these two thoughts are sovereign means on man's party, that is it that is so meedful as i say.[ ]] and this is only it by itself, without any other manner of doing (as is fasting, waking, sharp wearing, and all these other), the which only by itself pleaseth almighty god, and deserveth to have meed of him. and it were impossible any soul to have meed of god without this, and all after the quantity of this shall stand the quantity of meed; for whoso hath much of this, much meed shall he have, and whoso hath less of this, less meed shall he have. and all these other things, as is fasting, waking, sharp wearing, and all these other, they are needful[ ] in as much as they are helply to get this, so that without this they are nought. and this without them is sometime sufficient at the full by itself, and it is often times full worthily had and come to of full many without any of the others. all this i say for that i would by this knowing that thou charged and commended each thing after that it is: the more, "the more," and the less, "the less"; for oft times unknowing is cause of much error. and oft times unknowing maketh men to charge more and commend more bodily exercise (as is fasting, waking, sharp wearing, and all these others) than they do ghostly exercise in virtues or in this reverent affection touched before. and, therefore, in more declaration of the meed and the worthiness of this reverent affection, i shall say a little more than i yet have said, so that, by such declaring, thou mayst be better learned in this working than thou yet art. all this manner of working beforesaid of this reverent affection, when it is brought in by these two thoughts of dread and of hope coming before, may well be likened to a tree that were full of fruit; of the which tree, dread is that party that is within in the earth, that is, the root. and hope is that party that is above the earth, that is, the body[ ] with the boughs. in that that hope is certain and stable, it is the body; in that it stirreth men to works of love, it is the boughs; but this reverent affection is evermore the fruit, and then, evermore as long as the fruit is fastened to the tree,[ ] it hath in party a green smell of the tree; but when it hath been a certain time departed from the tree and is full ripe, then it hath lost all the taste of the tree, and is king's meat [that was before but knave's meat].[ ] in this time it is that this reverent affection is so meedful as i said. and, therefore, shape thee for to depart this fruit from the tree, and for to offer it up by itself to the high king of heaven; and then shalt thou be cleped god's own child, loving him with a chaste love for himself, and not for his goods.[ ] i mean thus: though all that the innumerable good deeds, the which almighty god of his gracious goodness hath shewed to each soul in this life, be sufficient causes at the full and more, to each soul to love him for, with all his mind, with all his wit, and with all his will; yet if it might be, that may no wise be, that a soul were as mighty, as worthy, and as witty as all the saints and angels that are in heaven gathered in one, and had never taken this worthiness of god,[ ] or to whom that god had never shewed kindness in this life; yet this soul, seeing the loveliness of god in himself, and the abundance thereof, should be ravished over his might for to love god, till the heart brast; so lovely and so liking, so good and so glorious he is in himself. o how wonderful a thing and how high a thing is the love of god for to speak of, of the which no man may speak perfectly to the understanding of the least party thereof, but by impossible ensamples, and passing the understanding of man! and thus it is that i mean when i say loving him with a chaste love for himself, and not for his goods;[ ] not as if i said (though all i well said) much for his goods, but without comparison more for himself. for, if i shall more highly speak in declaring of my meaning of the perfection and of the meed of this reverent affection, i say that a soul touched in affection by the sensible presence of gods as he is in himself, and in a perfect soul illumined in the reason, by the clear beam of everlasting light, the which is god, for to see and for to feel the loveliness[ ] of god in himself, hath for that time and for that moment lost all the mind of any good deed or of any kindness that ever god did to him in this life--so that cause for to love god for feeleth he or seeth he none in that time, other than is god himself. so that though all it may be said in speaking of the common perfection, that the great goodness and the great kindness that god hath shewed to us in this life are high and worthy causes for to love god for; yet having beholding to the point and the prick of perfection (to the which i purpose to draw thee in my meaning, and in the manner of this writing), a perfect lover of god, for dread of letting[ ] of his perfection, seeketh now, that is to say, in the point of perfection, none other cause for to love god for, but god himself; so that by this meaning i say, that chaste love is to love god for himself and not for his goods. and therefore, following the rule of mine ensample, shape thee to depart the fruit from the tree, and for to offer it up by itself unto the king of heaven, that thy love be chaste; for evermore as long as thou offrest him this fruit green and hanging on the tree, thou mayst well be likened to a woman that is not chaste, for she loveth a man more for his goods than for himself. and see why that i liken thee thus; for it seemeth that dread of thy death and shortness of time, with hope of forgiveness of all thy recklessness, maketh thee to be in god's service so reverent as thou art. and if it so be, soothly then hath thy fruit a green smell of the tree; and though all it pleaseth god in party, nevertheless, yet it pleaseth him not perfectly, and that is for thy love is not yet chaste. chaste love is that when thou askest of god neither releasing of pain, nor increasing of meed, nor yet sweetness in his love in this life; but if it be any certain time that thou covetest sweetness as for a refreshing of thy ghostly mights, that they fail not in the way; but thou askest of god nought but himself, and neither thou reckest nor lookest after whether thou shalt be in pain or in bliss, so that thou have him that thou lovest--this is chaste love, this is perfect love.[ ] and therefore shape thee for to depart the fruit from the tree; that is to say, this reverent affection from the thoughts of dread and of hope coming before; so that thou mayst offer it ripe and chaste unto god by itself, not caused of any thing beneath him, or medled with him[ ] (yea, though all it be the chief),[ ] but only of him, by himself; and then it is so meedful as i say that it is. for it is plainly known without any doubt unto all those that are expert in the science of divinity and of god's love, that as often as a man's affection is stirred unto god without mean (that is, without messenger of any thought in special causing that stirring), as oft it deserveth everlasting life. and for that that a soul that is thus disposed (that is to say, that offreth the fruit ripe, and departed from the tree) may innumerable times in one hour be raised in to god suddenly without mean, therefore more than i can say it deserveth, through the grace of god, the which is the chief worker, to be raised in to joy. and therefore shape thee for to offer the fruit ripe and departed from the tree. nevertheless, the fruit upon the tree, continually offered as man's frailty will suffer, deserveth salvation; but the fruit ripe and departed from the tree, suddenly offered unto god without mean, that is perfection. and here mayst thou see that the tree is good, though all that i bid thee depart the fruit therefrom, for more perfection; and therefore i set it in thy garden; for i would that thou should gather the fruit thereof, and keep it to thy lord. and for that that i would that thou knew what manner of working it is that knitteth man's soul to god, and that maketh it one with him in love and accordance of will,[ ] after the word of saint paul saying thus: qui adhaeret duo unus spiritus est cum illo; that is to say: "who so draweth near to god," as it is by such a reverent affection touched before, "he is one spirit with god." that is, though all that god and he be two and sere[ ] in kind, nevertheless yet in grace they are so knit together that they are but one in spirit;[ ] and all this is for onehead of love and accordance of will; and in this onehead is the marriage made between god and the soul, the which shall never be broken, though all that the heat and the fervour of this work cease for a time, but by a deadly sin. in the ghostly feeling of this onehead may a loving soul both say and sing (if it list) this holy word that is written in the book of songs in the bible: dilectus meus mihi et ego illi; that is: "my loved unto me and i unto him"; understanden that god shall be knitted with the ghostly glue of grace on his party, and the lovely consent in gladness of spirit on thy party. and therefore climb up by this tree, as i said in the beginning; and when thou comest to the fruit (that is, to the reverent affection, the which ever will be in thee if thou think heartily the other two thoughts before, and fage[ ] not thyself with no lie, as i said), then shalt thou take good keep[ ] of that working that is made in thy soul that time, and shape thee, in as much as thou mayst through grace, for to meek thee under the height of thy god, so that thou mayst use thee in that working other times by itself, without any climbing thereto by any thought. and, sikerly, this is it the which is so meedful as i said, and ever the longer that it is kept from the tree (that is to say, from any thought), and ever the ofter that it is done suddenly, lustily, and likingly, without mean, the sweeter it smelleth, and the better it pleaseth the high king of heaven. and ever when thou feelest sweetness and comfort in thy doing, then he breaketh this fruit and giveth thee part of thine own present. and that that thou feelest is so hard, and so straitly stressing thine heart without comfort in the first beginning, that bemeaneth[ ] that the greenness of the fruit hanging on the tree, or else newly pulled, setteth thy teeth on edge. nevertheless yet it is speedful to thee. for it is no reason that thou eat the sweet kernel, but if thou crack first the hard shell and bite of the bitter bark. nevertheless, if it so be that thy teeth be weak (that is to say, thy ghostly mights), then it is my counsel that thou seek slights, for better is list than lither strength.[ ] another skill there is why that i set this tree in thy garden, for to climb up thereby. for though all it be so that god may do what he will, yet, to mine understanding, it is impossible any man to attain to the perfection of this working without these two means, or else other two that are according to them coming before. and yet is the perfection of this work sudden, without any mean. and, therefore, i rede[ ] thee that these be thine, not thine in propriety, for that is nought but sin,[ ] but thine given graciously of god, and sent by me as a messenger though i be unworthy; for wete thou right well that every thought that stirreth thee to the good,[ ] whether it come from within by thine angel messenger, or from without by any man messenger, it is but an instrument of grace given, sent and chosen of god himself for to work within in thy soul. and this is the skill why that i counsel thee to take these two thoughts before all others. for as man is a mingled thing of two substances, a bodily and a ghostly, so it needeth for to have two sere[ ] means to come by to perfection;[ ] sith it so is that both these substances shall be oned in undeadliness at the uprising in the last day; so that either substance be raised to perfection in this life, by a mean accordant thereto. and that is dread to bodily substance, and hope to the ghostly. and thus it is full seemly and according to be, as me thinketh; for as there is nothing that so soon will ravish the body from all affection of earthly things, as will a sensible dread of the death; so there is nothing that so soon nor so fervently will raise the affection of a sinner's soul, unto the love of god, as will a certain hope of forgiveness of all his recklessness. and therefore have i ordained thy climbing by these two thoughts; but if it so be that thy good angel teach thee within thy ghostly conceit, or any other man, any other two that are more according to thy disposition than thee thinketh these two be, thou mayst take them, and leave these safely without any blame. nevertheless to my conceit (till i wete more) me thinketh that these should be full helply unto thee, and not much unaccording to thy disposition, after that i feel in thee. and therefore, if thou think that they do thee good, then thank god heartily, and for god's love pray for me. do then so, for i am a wretch, and thou wotest not how it standeth with me. no more at this time, but god's blessing have thou and mine. read often, and forget it not; set thee sharply to the proof; and flee all letting and occasion of letting, in the name of our lord jesu christ. amen. finis vi. here followeth also a very necessary epistle of discretion in stirrings of the soul ghostly friend in god, that same grace and joy that i will to myself, will i to thee at god's will. thou askest me counsel of silence and of speaking, of common dieting and of singular fasting, of dwelling in company and only woning[ ] by thyself. and thou sayest thou art in great were[ ] what thou shalt do; for, as thou sayest, on the one party thou art greatly tarried with speaking, with common eating, as other folk do, and with common woning in company. and, on the other party, thou dreadest to be straitly still,[ ] singular in fasting, and only in woning, for deeming of more holiness in thee than thou hast,[ ] and for many other perils; for oft times now these days they are deemed for most holy, and fall in to many perils, that most are in silence, in singular fasting, and in only woning. and sooth it is that they are most holy, if grace only be the cause of that silence, of that singular fasting, and of that only woning, the kind[ ] but suffering and only consenting; and if it be otherwise, then that is but peril on all sides, for it is full perilous to strain the kind to any such work of devotion, as is silence or speaking, common dieting or singular fasting, woning in company or in onliness.[ ] i mean, passing the course and the common custom of kind and degree, but if it be led thereto by grace; and, namely, to such works the which in themself are indifferent, that is to say, now good, and now evil, now with thee, now against thee, now helping, and now letting. for it might befall that, if thou followed thy singular stirring, straitly straining thee to silence, to singular fasting, or to only woning, that thou shouldest oft times be still when time were to speak, oft times fast when time were to eat, oft times be only when time were to be in company. or if thou give thee to speaking always when thee list, to common eating, or to companious woning,[ ] then peradventure thou shouldest sometime speak when time[ ] were to be still, sometime eat when time were to fast, sometime be in company when time were to be only; and thus mightest thou lightly fall in to error, in great confusion, not only of thine own soul but also of others. and, therefore, in eschewing of such errors, thou askest of me (as i have perceived by thy letters) two things: the first is my conceit of thee, and thy stirring; and the other is my counsel in this case, and in all such others when they come. as to the first, i answer and i say that i dread full much in this matter and such others to put forth my rude conceit, such as it is, for two skills.[ ] and one is this: i dare not lean to my conceit, affirming it for fast and true. the other is thine inward disposition, and thine ableness that thou hast unto all these things that thou speakest of in thy letter, which be not yet so fully known unto me, as it were speedful that they were, if i should give full counsel in this case. for it is said of the apostle: nemo novit quae sunt hominis, nisi spiritus hominis qui in ipso est; "no man knoweth which are the privy dispositions of man, but the spirit of the same man, the which is in himself";[ ] and, peradventure, thou knowest not yet thine own inward disposition thyself, so fully as thou shalt do hereafter, when god will let thee feel it by the proof, among many failings and risings. for i knew never yet no sinner that might come to the perfect knowing of himself and of his inward disposition, but if he were learned of it before in the school of god, by experience of many temptations, and by many failings and risings; for right as among the waves and the floods and the storms of the sea, on the one party, and the peaceable wind and the calms and the soft weathers of the air on the other party, the sely[ ] ship at the last attains to the land and the haven; right so, among the diversity of temptations and tribulations that falleth to a soul in this ebbing and flowing life (the which are ensampled by the storms and the floods of the sea) on the one party, and among the grace and the goodness of the holy ghost, the manyfold visitation, sweetness and comfort of spirit (the which are ensampled by the peaceable wind and the soft weathers of the air) on the other party, the sely soul, at the likeness of a ship, attaineth at the last to the land of stableness, and to the haven of health; the which is the clear and the soothfast knowing of himself, and of all his inward dispositions, through the which knowing he sitteth quietly in himself, as a king crowned in his royalme, mightily, wisely, and goodly governing himself and all his thoughts and stirrings, both in body and in soul. of such a man it is that the wise man saith thus: beatus vir qui suffert tentationem, quoniam cum probatus fuerit, accipiet coronam vitae, quam repromisit deus diligentibus se: "he is a blissful man that sufferingly beareth temptation; for, from he have been proved, he shall take the crown of life, the which god hath hight to all those that love him."[ ] the crown of life may be said on two manners. one for ghostly wisdom, for full discretion, and for perfection of virtue: these three knitted together may be cleped[ ] a crown of life, the which by grace may be come to here in this life. on another manner the crown of life may be said, that it is the endless joy that each true soul shall have, after this life, in the bliss of heaven, and, sikerly, neither of these two crowns may a man take, but if he before have been well proved in suffering of noye[ ] and of temptation, as this text saith: quoniam cum probatus fuerit, accipiet coronam vitae; that is: "from that he have been proved, then shall he take the crown of life";[ ] as who saith (according to mine understanding touched before): but if a sinner have been proved before in divers temptations, now rising, now falling, falling by frailty, rising by grace, he shall never else take of god in this life ghostly wisdom in clear knowing of himself and of his inward dispositions, nor full discretion in counselling and teaching of others, nor yet the third, the which is the perfection of virtue in loving of his god and of his brethren. all these three--wisdom, discretion, and perfection of virtue-are but one, and they may be cleped the crown of life. in a crown are three things: gold is the first; precious stones are the second; and the turrets of the flower-de-luce, raised up above the head, those are the third. by gold, wisdom; by the precious stones, discretion; and by the turrets of the flower-de-luce i understand the perfection of virtue. gold environeth the head, and by wisdom we govern our ghostly work on every side; precious stones giveth light in beholding of men, and by discretion we teach and counsel our brethren; the turrets of the flower-de-luce giveth two side branches spreading one to the right side and another to the left, and one even up above the head, and by perfection of virtues (the which is charity) we give two side branches of love, the which are spreading, one to the right side to our friends, and one to the left side to our enemies, and one even up unto god, above man's understanding, the which is the head of the soul. this is the crown of life the which by grace may be gotten here in this life; and, therefore, bear thee low in thy battle, and suffer meekly thy temptations till thou have been proved. for then shalt thou take either the one crown, or the other, or both, this here, and the other there; for who so hath this here, he may be full siker of the other there; and full many there are that are full graciously proved here, and yet come never to this that may be had here in this life. the which (if they meekly continue and patiently abide the will of our lord) shall full worthily and abundantly receive the other there, in the high bliss of heaven. thee thinketh this crown fair that may be had here; yea, bear thee as meekly as thou mayst by grace, for in comparison of the other there, it is but as one noble to a world full of gold. all this i say to give thee comfort and evidence of strength in thy ghostly battle, the which thou hast taken on hand in the trust of our lord, and all this i say to let thee see how far thou art yet from the true knowing of thine inward disposition, and thereafter to give thee warning, not over soon to give stead[ ] nor to follow the singular stirrings of thy young heart, for dread of deceit. all this i say for to show unto thee my conceit that i have of thee and of thy stirrings, as thou hast asked of me; for i conceive of thee that thou art full able and full greatly disposed to such sudden stirrings of singular doings,[ ] and full fast to cleave unto them when they be received; and that is full perilous. i say not that this ableness and this greedy disposition in thee, or in any other that is disposed as thou art, though all it be perilous, that it is therefore evil in itself; nay, so say i not, god forbid that thou take it so; but i say that it is full good in itself, and a full great ableness to full great perfection, yea, and to the greatest perfection that may be in this life; i mean, if that a soul that is so disposed will busily, night and day, meek it[ ] to god and to good counsel, and strongly rise and martyr itself, with casting down of the own wit and the own will in all such sudden and singular stirrings, and say sharply that it will not follow such stirrings, seem they never so liking,[ ] so high nor so holy, but if it have thereto the witness[ ] and the consents of some ghostly teachers--i mean such as have been of long time expert in singular living. such a soul, for ghostly continuance thus in this meekness, may deserve, through grace and the experience of this ghostly battle thus with itself, for to take the crown of life touched before. and as great an ableness to good as is this manner of disposition in a soul that is thus meeked as i say, as perilous it is in another soul, such one that will suddenly, without advisement of counsel, follow the stirrings of the greedy heart, by the own wit and the own will; and therefore, for god's love, beware with this ableness and with this manner of disposition (that i speak of), if it be in thee as i say. and meek thee continually to prayer and to counsel. break down thine own wit and thy will in all such sudden and singular stirrings, and follow them not over lightly, till thou wete whence they come, and whether they be according for thee or not. and as touching these stirrings of the which thou askest my conceit and my counsel, i say to thee that i conceive of them suspiciously, that is, that[ ] they should be conceived on the ape's manner. men say commonly that the ape doth as he seeth others do; forgive me if i err in my suspicion, i pray thee. nevertheless, the love that i have to thy soul stirreth me by evidence that i have of a ghostly brother of thine and of mine, touched with those same stirrings of full great[ ] silence, of full singular fasting, and of full only woning, on ape's manner, as he granted unto me after long communing with me, and when he had proved himself and his stirrings. for, as he said, he had seen a man in your country, the which man, as it is well known, is evermore in great silence, in singular fasting, and in only dwelling; and certes, as i suppose fully, they are full true stirrings those that that man hath, caused all only of grace, that he feeleth by experience within, and not of any sight or heard say that he hath of any other man's silence without-the which cause if it were, it should be cleped apely, as i say in my simple meaning. and therefore beware, and prove well thy stirrings, and whence they come; for how so thou art stirred, whether from within by grace, or from without on ape's manner, god wote, and i not. nevertheless this may i say thee in eschewing of perils like unto this: look that thou be no ape, that is to say, look that thy stirrings to silence or to speaking, to fasting or to eating, to onliness or to company, whether they be come from within of abundance of love and of devotion in the spirit and not from without by the windows of thy bodily wits, as thine ears, and thine eyes. for, as jeremiah saith plainly, by such windows cometh in death: mors intrat per fenestras. and this sufficeth, as little as it is, for answer to the first, where thou askest of me, what is my conceit of thee, and of these stirrings that thou speakest of to me in thy letter. and touching the second thing, where thou askest of me my counsel in this case, and in such other when they fall, i beseech almighty jesu (as he is cleped the angel of great counsel) that he of his mercy be thy counsellor and thy comforter in all thy noye and thy nede, and order me with his wisdom to fulfil in party by my teaching, so simple as it is, the trust of thine heart, the which thou hast unto me before many others--a simple lewd[ ] wretch as i am, unworthy to teach thee or any other, for littleness of grace and for lacking of conning. nevertheless, though i be lewd, yet shall i somewhat say, answering to thy desire at my simple conning, with a trust in god that his grace shall be learner and leader when conning of kind and of clergy defaileth.[ ] thou wotest right well thyself that silence in itself nor speaking, also singular fasting nor common dieting, onliness nor company, all these nor yet any of them be not the true end of our desire; but to some men (and not to all) they are means helping to the end, if they be done lawfully and with discretion, and else are they more letting than furthering. and therefore plainly[ ] to speak, nor plainly to be still, plainly to eat, nor plainly to fast, plainly to be in company, or plainly to be only, think i not to counsel thee at this time; for why, perfection standeth not in them. but this counsel may i give thee generally, to hold thee by in these stirrings, and in all other like unto these; evermore where thou findest two contraries, as are these--silence and speaking, fasting and eating, onliness and company, common clothing of christian religion and singular habits of divers and devised brotherhoods, with all such other what so they be, the which in themself are but works of kind[ ] and of men. for thou hast it by kind and by statute of thine outer man now for to speak and now for to be still, now for to eat and now for to fast, now for to be in company and now to be only, now to be common in clothing and now to be in singular habit, ever when thee list, and when thou seest[ ] that any of them should be speedful and helply to thee in nourishing of the heavenly grace working within in thy soul; but if it be so (which god forbid), that thou or any other be so lewd and so blinded in the sorrowful temptations of the midday devil, that ye bind you by any crooked avow to any such singularities, as it were under colour of holiness feigned under such an holy thraldom,[ ] in full and final destroying of the freedom of christ, the which is the ghostly habit of the sovereign holiness that may be in this life, or in the other, by the witness of saint paul saying thus: ubi spiritus domini, ibi libertas: "there where the spirit of god is, there is freedom."[ ] and thereto when thou seest that all such works in their use may be both good and evil; i pray thee leave them both, for that is the most ease for thee for to do, if thou wilt be meek, and leave the curious beholding and seeking in thy wits to look whether is better. but do thou thus: set the one on the one hand, and the other on the other, and choose thee a thing the which is hid between them; the which thing, when it is had, giveth thee leave in freedom of spirit to begin and to cease in holding any of the others at thine own full list, without any blame. but now thou askest me, what is that thing. i shall tell thee what i mean that it is: it is god; for whom thou shouldest be still, if thou shouldest be still; and for whom thou shouldest speak if thou shouldest speak; and for whom thou shouldest fast, if thou shouldest fast; and for whom thou shouldest eat, if thou shouldest eat; and for whom thou shouldest be only, if thou shouldest be only; and for whom thou shouldest be in company, if thou shouldest be in company. and so forth of all the remenant, what so they be. for silence is not god, nor speaking is not god; fasting is not god, nor eating is not god; onliness is not god, nor company is not god; nor yet any of all the other such two contraries. he is hid between them, and may not be found by any work of thy soul, but all only by love of thine heart. he may not be known by reason, he may not be gotten by thought, nor concluded by understanding; but he may be loved and chosen with the true lovely will of thine heart.[ ] choose thee him, and thou art silently speaking, and speakingly silent, fastingly eating, and eatingly fasting, and so forth of all the remenant. such a lovely choosing of god, thus wisely lesinge[ ] and seeking him out with the true will of a clean heart, between all such two leaving them both, when they come and proffer them to be the point and the prick of our ghostly beholding, is the worthiest tracing and seeking of god that may be gotten or learned in this life. i mean for a soul that will be contemplative; yea, though all that a soul that thus seeketh see nothing that may be conceived with the ghostly eye of reason; for if god be thy love and thy meaning, the choice and the point of thine heart, it sufficeth to thee in this life (though all thou see never more of him with the eyes of thy reason all thy life time). such a blind shot with the sharp dart of longing love may never fail of the prick, the which is god, as himself saith in the book of love, where he speaketh to a languishing soul and a loving, saying thus: vulnerasti cor meum, soror mea, amica mea, et sponsa mea, vulnerasti cor meum, in uno oculorum tuorum: "thou hast wounded mine heart, my sister, my leman, and my spouse, thou hast wounded mine heart in one of thine eyes."[ ] eyes of the soul they are two: reason and love. by reason we may trace how mighty, how wise, and how good he is in his creatures, but not in himself; but ever when reason defaileth, then list, love, live and learn, to play,[ ] for by love we may feel him, find him, and hit him, even in himself. it is a wonderful eye, this love, for of a loving soul it is only said of our lord: "thou hast wounded mine heart in one of thine eyes"; that is to say, in love that is blind to many things, and seeth but that one thing that it seeketh, and therefore it findeth and feeleth, hitteth and woundeth the point and the prick that it shooteth at, well sooner than it should if the sight were sundry in beholding of many things, as it is when the reason ransacketh and seeketh among all such sere[ ] things as are these: silence and speaking, singular fasting and common eating, onliness or company, and all such other; to look whether is better. let be this manner of doing, i pray thee, and let as thou wist not that there were any such means (i mean ordained for to get god by); for truly no more there is, if thou wilt be very contemplative and soon sped of thy purpose. and, therefore, i pray thee and other like unto thee, with the apostle saying thus: videte vocationem vestram, et in ea vocatione qua vocati estis state: "see your calling, and, in that calling that ye be called, stand stiffly and abide in the name of jesu." thy calling is to be very contemplative, ensampled by mary magdalene. do then as mary did, set the point of thine heart upon one thing: porro unum est necessarium: "for one thing is necessary,"[ ] the which is god. him wouldest thou have, him seekest thou, him list thee to love, him list thee to feel,[ ] him list thee hold thee by, and neither by silence nor by speaking, by singular fasting nor by common eating, by onliness nor by companious woning, by hard wearing nor by easy; for sometime silence is good, but that same time speaking were better; and againward sometime speaking is good, but that same time silence were better; and so forth of all the remenant, as is fasting, eating, onliness, and company; for sometime the one is good, but the other is better, but neither of them is at any time the best. and, therefore, let be good all that is good, and better all that is better,[ ] for both they will defail and have an end; and choose thee the best with mary, thy mirror, that never will defail: maria (inquit optimam) optimam partem elegit, quae non auferetur ab ea. the best is almighty jesu, and he said that mary, in ensample of all contemplatives, had chosen the best, the which should never be taken from her; and therefore, i pray thee, with mary leave the good and the better, and choose thee the best. let them be, all such things as are these: silence and speaking, fasting and eating, onliness and company, and all such other, and take no keep to them; thou wotest not what they mean, and, i pray thee, covet not to wit; and if thou shall at any time think or speak of them, think then and say that they are so high and so worthy things of perfection, for to conne[ ] speak, or for to conne be still, for to conne fast, and for to conne eat, for to conne be only, and to conne be in company, that it were but a folly and a foul presumption to such a frail wretch as thou art, for to meddle thee of so great perfection. for why, for to speak, and for to be still, for to eat, and for to fast, for to be only, and for to be in company, ever when we will, may we have by kind; but for to conne do all these, we may not but by grace. and, without doubt, such grace is never gotten by any mean of such strait silence, of such singular fasting, or of such only dwelling that thou speakest of, the which is caused from without by occasion of hearing and of seeing of any other man's such singular doings. but if ever this grace shall be gotten, it behoveth to be learned of god from within, unto whom thou hast listily leaned many a day before with all the love of thine heart, utterly voiding from thy ghostly beholding[ ] all manner of sight of any thing beneath him; though all that some of those things that i bid thee thus void, should seem in the sight of some men a full worthy mean to get god by. yea, say what men say will, but do thou as i say thee, and let the proof witness. for to him that will be soon sped of his purpose ghostly, it sufficeth to him for a mean, and him needeth no more, but the actual mind of good god only, with a reverent stirring of lasting love; so that mean unto god gettest thou none but god. if thou keep whole thy stirring of love that thou mayst feel by grace in thine heart, and scatter not thy ghostly beholding therefrom then that same that thou feelest shall well conne[ ] tell thee when thou shalt speak and when thou shalt be still, and it shall govern thee discreetly in all thy living without any error, and teach thee mistily[ ] how thou shalt begin and cease in all such doing of kind with a great and sovereign discretion. for if thou mayst by grace keep it in custom and in continual working, then, if it be needful or speedful to thee for to speak, for to commonly eat, or for to bide in company, or for to do any such other thing that longeth to the common true custom of christian men, and of kind, it shall first stir thee full softly to speak or to do that other common thing of kind, what so it be. and then, if thou do it not, it shall strike as sore as a prick on thine heart and pain thee full sore, and let thee have no peace[ ] but if thou do it. and, on the same manner, if thou be in speaking, or in any such other work that is common to the course of kind, if it be needful and speedful to thee to be still, and for to set thee to the contrary, as is onliness to company, fasting to eating, and all such other the which are works of singular holiness, it will stir thee to them; so that thus, by experience of such a blind stirring of love unto god, a contemplative soul cometh sooner to that grace of discretion for to conne speak, and for to conne be still, for to conne eat, and for to conne fast, for to conne be in company, and for to conne be only,[ ] and all such other, than by any such singularities as thou speakest of, taken by the stirrings of man's own wit and his will within in himself, or yet by the ensample of any other man's doing without, what so it be. for why, such strained doings under the stirrings of kind, without touching[ ] of grace, is a passing pain without any profit; but if it be to them that are religious, or that have them by enjoining of penance, where profit riseth only because of obedience, and not by any such straitness of doing without; the which is painful to all that it proveth. but lovely and listily to will to love[ ] god is great and passing ease, true ghostly peace, and earnest of the endless rest. and, therefore, speak when thee list, and leave when thee list, eat when thee list, and fast when thee list, be in company when thee list, and be by thyself when thee list, so that[ ] god and grace be thy leader. let fast who fast will, and be only who will, and let hold silence who so will, but hold thee by god that doth beguile no man; for silence and speaking, onliness and company, fasting and eating, all may beguile thee. and if thou hear of any man that speaketh, or of any that is still, of any that eateth or of any that fasteth, or of any that is in company or else by himself, think thou, and say, if thee list, that they conne do as they should do, but if the contrary shew in apert.[ ] but look that thou do not as they do (i mean for that they do so) on ape's manner; for neither thou canst, nor peradventure thou art not disposed as they are. and, therefore, leave to work after other men's dispositions and work after thine own, if thou mayst know what it is. and unto the time that thou mayst know what it is, work after those men's counsel that know their own disposition, but not after their disposition;[ ] for such men should give counsel in such cases, and else none. and this sufficeth for an answer to all thy letter, as me thinketh; the grace of god be ever more with thee, in the name of jesu. amen. finit epistola vii. here followeth a devout treatise of discerning of spirits, very necessary for ghostly livers for because that there be divers kinds of spirits, therefore it is needful to us discreet knowing of them; sith it so is that we be taught of the apostle saint john not to believe to all spirits.[ ] for it might seem to some that are but little in conning, and namely of ghostly things, that each thought that soundeth in man's heart should be the speech of none other spirit but only of man's own spirit. and that it is not so, both belief and witness of holy scripture proveth apertly; for "i shall hear," saith the prophet david, "not what i speak myself, but what my lord god speaketh in me";[ ] and another prophet saith, that an angel spake in him.[ ] and also we be taught in the psalm that the wicked spirits sendeth evil thoughts in to men; and over this, that there is a spirit of the flesh not good, the apostle paul sheweth apertly, where he saith, that some men are full blown or inflate with the spirit of their flesh.[ ] and also that there is the spirit of the world, he declareth plainly, where he maketh joy in god, not only for himself, but also for his disciples, that they had not taken that spirit of the world, but that that is sent of god, the which is the holy ghost.[ ] and these two spirits of the flesh and also of the world are, as it were, servants or sergeants of that cursed spirit, the foul fiend of hell; so that the spirit of wickedness is lord of the spirit of the flesh, and also of the spirit of the world. and which of these three spirits that speaketh to our spirit, we should not believe them. for why, they speak never but that anon, by their speaking, they lead to the loss both of body and of soul. and which spirit it is that speaketh to our spirit, the speech of that same spirit that speaketh shall fully declare; for ever more the spirit of the flesh speaketh soft things and easy to the body; the spirit of the world vain things and covetise[ ] of worship; and the spirit of malice of the fiend speaketh fell things and bitter. wherefore, as oft times as any thought smiteth on our hearts of meat, of drink, and of sleep, of soft clothing, of lechery, and of all other such things the which longeth to the business of the flesh, and maketh our heart for to brenne[ ] as it were in a longing desire after all such things; be we full siker that it is the spirit of the flesh that speaketh it. and therefore put we him away, in as much as we goodly may by grace, for he is our adversary. as oft times as any thought smiteth on our hearts of vain joy of this world, kindling in us a desire to be holden fair, and to be favoured, to be holden of great kin and of great conning, to be holden wise and worthy, or else to have great degree and high office in this life--such thoughts and all other the which would make a man to seem high and worshipful, not only in the sight of others, but also in the sight of himself--no doubt but it is the spirit of the world that speaketh all these, a far more perilous enemy than is the spirit of the flesh, and with much more business he should be put off. and oft times it befalleth that these two servants and sergeants of the foul fiend, the spirit and prince of wrath[ ] and of wickedness, are either by grace and by ghostly slight of a soul stiffly put down and trodden down under foot; or else, by quaintise[ ] of their malicious master, the foul fiend of hell, they are quaintly withdrawn, for he thinketh himself for to rise with great malice and wrath, as a lion running felly to assail the sickness of our sely souls; and this befalleth as oft as the thought of our heart stirreth us, not to the lust of our flesh, nor yet to the vain joy of this world, but it stirreth us to murmuring, to grutching,[ ] to grievance, and to bitterness of soul, to pain and to impatience, to wrath, to melancholy, and to evil will, to hate, to envy, and to all such sorrows. it maketh us to bear us heavily, if ought be done or said unto us, not so lovely, nor so wisely[ ] as we would it were; it raiseth in us all evil suspicion, if ought be shewed in sign, in countenance, in word, or in work, that might by any manner be turned to malice or to heaviness of heart; it maketh us as fast[ ] to take it to us. to these thoughts, and to all such that would put us out of peace and restfulness of heart, we should none otherwise againstand,[ ] but as we would the self fiend of hell, and as much we should flee therefrom as from the loss of our soul. no doubt but both the other two thoughts, of the spirit of the flesh and also of the spirit of the world, work and travail in all that they can to the loss of our soul, but most perilously the spirit of malice; for why, he is by himself, but they not without him. for if a man's soul be never so clean of fleshly lust, and of vain joy of this world, and if it be defouled with this spirit of malice, of wrath, and of wickedness, not againstanding all the other cleanness before, yet it is losable. and if a soul be never so much defouled with the lust of the flesh, and vain joy of the world, and it may by grace keep it in peace and in restfulness of heart unto the even christian,[ ] though all it be full hard for to do (lasting the custom of the other two),[ ] yet it is less losable, not againstanding all the other filth of the flesh and of the world touched before. and, therefore, though all that our lusty[ ] thoughts of our flesh be evil, for they reave from the soul the life of devotion, and though all that the vain joy of the world be worse, for it reaveth us from the true joy that we should have in contemplation of heavenly things, ministered and taught to us by the angels of heaven. for who so lustily desireth to be worshipped, favoured, and served of men here in earth, they deserve to forego the worship, the favour, and service of angel in ghostly contemplation of heaven and of heavenly things, all their lifetime; the which contemplation is better and more worthy in itself than is the lust and the liking of devotion. and for this bitterness i clepe the spirit of malice, of wrath, and of wickedness the worst spirit of them all; and why? certes, for it reaveth us the best thing of all, and that is charity, the which is god. for who so lacketh peace and restfulness of heart, him lacketh the lively presence of the lovely sight of the high peace of heaven, good gracious god his own dear self. this witnesseth david in the psalm, where he saith, that the place of god is made in peace, and his dwelling place in sion.[ ] sion is as much to say as the sight of peace; the sight of the soul is the thought of that same soul; and, certes, in that soul that most is occupied in thoughts of peace hath god made his dwelling place.[ ] and thus saith himself by the prophet, when he saith: "upon whom shall my spirit rest, but upon the meek and the restful."[ ] and, therefore, who so will have god continually dwelling in him, and live in love and in sight of the high peace of the godhead, the which is the highest and the best party of contemplation that may be had in this life, be he busy night and day to put down, when they come, the spirit of the flesh and the spirit of the world, but most busily the spirit of malice, of wrath, and of wickedness, for he is the foulest and the worst filth[ ] of all. and it is full needful and speedful to know his quaintise, and not for to unknow his doleful deceits. for sometime he will, that wicked cursed wight, change his likeness in to an angel of light, that he may under colour of virtue do more dere;[ ] but yet then, if we look more redely,[ ] it is but seed of bitterness and of discord that that he sheweth, seem it never so holy nor never so fair at the first shewing. full many he stirreth unto singular holiness passing the common statute and custom of their degree, as is fasting, sharp wearing, and many other devout observances and outward doings, in open reproving of other men's defaults, the which they have not of office for to do. all such and many other he stirreth them for to do, and all under colour of devotion and of charity; not for he is delighted in any deed of devotion and of charity, but for he loveth dissension and slander, the which is evermore caused by such unseemly singularities; for where so ever that any one or two are in any devout congregation, the which any one or two useth any such outward singularities, then in the sight of fools all the remenant are slandered by them; but, in the sight of the wise man, they slander themselves. but for because that fools are more than wise men, therefore for favour of fools such singular doers ween that they be wise, when (if it were wisely determined) they and all their fautors[ ] should be seen apert fools, and darts shot of the devil, to slay true simple souls under colour of holiness and charity. and thus many deceits can the fiend bring in on this manner. who so will not consent, but meeketh him truly to prayer and to counsel, shall graciously be delivered of all these deceits.[ ] but it is sorrow for to say, and more for to feel, that sometime[ ] our own spirit is so overcome peradventure with each of these three spirits, of the flesh, of the world, and of the fiend, and so brought into danger, bounden in bondage, in thraldom and in service of them all, that sorrow it is to wit. in great confusion and loss of itself, it doth now the office of each one of them itself in itself. and this befalleth when, after long use, and customable consenting unto them when they come, at the last it is made so fleshly, so worldly, and so malicious, so wicked, and so froward, that now plainly of itself, without suggestion of any other spirit, it gendereth and bringeth forth in itself, not only lusty thoughts of the flesh, and vain thoughts of the world, but that worst of all these, as are bitter thoughts and wicked, in backbiting and deeming, and evil suspicion of others. and when it is thus with our spirit, then, i trow, it may not lightly be known when it is our own spirit that speaketh, or when it heareth any of the other three spirits speaking in it as it is touched before. but what maketh it matter[ ] who speaketh, when it is all one and the same thing that is spoken? what helpeth to know the person of him that speaketh, when it is siker and certain that all is evil and perilous that is spoken? if it be thine enemy, consent not to him, but meek thee to prayer and to counsel, and so mayst thou mightily withstand thine enemy. if it be thine own spirit, reprove him bitterly, and sighingly sorrow that ever thou fell in[ ] so great wretchedness, bondage, and thraldom of the devil. shrive thee of thy customed consents, and of thine old sins, and so mayst thou come (by grace) to recover thy freedom again; and by the gracious freedom mayst thou soon come to, wisely for to know, and soothfastly for to feel by the proof, when it is thine own spirit that speaketh these evils, or it be these other evil spirits that speaketh them in thee. and so may this knowing be a sovereign mean and help of againstanding, for often times unknowing is cause of much error, and, againward, knowing is cause of much truth; and to this manner of knowing mayst thou win thus as i say to thee. if thou be in doubt or in were[ ] of these evil thoughts when they come, whether that they be the speech of thine own spirit, or of any of the others of thine enemies; look then busily by the witness of thy counsel and thy conscience, if thou have been shriven and lawfully amended after the doom[ ] of thy confessor, of all the consents that ever thou consented to that kind of sin, that thy thought is aware of. and if thou have not been shriven shrive thee then, as truly as thou mayst, by grace and by counsel; and then wete thou right well that all the thoughts that come to thee after thy shrift, stirring thee oft times to the same sins, they are the words of other spirits than thine own (i mean some of the three touched before). and thou for none such thoughts, be they never so thick, so foul, nor so many (i mean for their first coming in), but if it be for recklessness of againstanding,[ ] art no blame worthy. and not only releasing of purgatory that thou hast deserved for the same sins done before, what so they be, thou mayst deserve, if thou stiffly againstand them, but also much grace in this life, and much meed in the bliss of heaven. but all those evil thoughts coming in to thee, stirring thee to any sin, after that thou hast consented to that same sin, and before that thou hast sorrow for that consent, and art in will to be shriven thereof, it is no peril to thee to take them to thyself,[ ] and for to shrive thee of them, as of thoughts of thine own spirit; but for to take to thyself all other thoughts, the which thou hast by very proof, as it is shewed before, by the speeches of other spirits than of thyself, therein lieth great peril, for so mightest thou lightly misrule thy conscience, charging a thing for sin the which is none; and this were great error, and a mean to the greatest peril. for if it were so that each evil thought and stirring to sin were the work and the speech of none other spirit, but only of man's own spirit; then it would follow by that that a man's own spirit were a very fiend, the which is apertly false and a damnable woodness;[ ] for though all it be so that a soul may, by frailty and custom of sinning, fall in to so much wretchedness, that it taketh on itself by bondage of sin the office of the devil, stirring itself to sin ever more and more, without any suggestion of any other spirit (as it is said before), yet it is not therefore a devil in kind, but it is a devil in office, and may be cleped devilish, for it is in the doing like to the devil, [that is to say, a stirrer of itself unto sin, the which is the office of the devil].[ ] nevertheless yet, for all this thraldom to sin and devilishness in office, it may by grace of contrition, of shrift, and of amending, recover the freedom again, and be made saveable--yea, and a full special god's saint in this life, that before was full damnable and full cursed in the living.[ ] and, therefore, as great a peril as it is a soul that is fallen in sin, not for to charge his conscience therewith, nor for to amend him thereof, as great a peril it is, and, if it may be said, a greater, a man for to charge his conscience with each thought and stirring of sin that will come in him; for, by such nice charging of conscience, might he lightly run in to error of conscience, and so be led in to despair all his life time. and the cause of all this is lacking of knowing of discretion of spirits, the which knowing may be gotten by very experience; who so redely will look soon after that a soul have been truly cleansed by confession as it is said before. for fast after confession a soul is, as it were, a clean paper leaf, for ableness that it hath to receive what that men will write thereupon. both they do press[ ] for to write on the soul, when it is clean in itself made by confession: god and his angel on the one party, and the fiend and his angel on the other party; but it is in the free choice of the soul to receive which that it will. the receipt of the soul is the consent of the same soul. a new thought and a stirring to any sin, the which thou hast forsaken before in thy shrift, what is it else but the speech of one of the three spirits the which are thine enemies (touched before), proffering to write on thy soul the same sin again? the speech of thyself, is it not; for why, there is no such thing written in thy soul, for all it is wasted away before in thy shrift, and thy soul left naked and bare; nothing left thereupon, but a frail and a free consent, more inclining to the evil, for custom therein, than it is to the good, but more able to the good than to the evil, for cleanness of the soul and virtue of the sacrament of shrift; but, of itself, it hath nought then, where through it may think or stir itself to good or to evil; and, therefore, it followeth that what thought that cometh then in it, whether that it be good or evil, it is not of itself, but the consent to the good or to the evil, whether that it be, that is ever more the work of the same soul. and all after the worthiness and the wretchedness of this consent, thereafter it deserveth pain or bliss. if this consent be to evil, then as fast it hath, by cumbrance of sin, the office of that same spirit that first made him suggestion of that same sin; and if it be to the good, then as fast it hath, by grace, the office of that same spirit that first made him stirring[ ] to that same good. for as oft as any healful thought cometh in our mind, as of chastity, of soberness, of despising of the world, of wilful poverty, of patience, of meekness, and of charity, without doubt it is the spirit of god that speaketh, either by himself or else by some of his angels--that is to say, either his angels of this life, the which are true teachers, or else his angels of his bliss, the which are true stirrers and inspirers of good. and as it is said of the other three evil spirits, that a soul, for long use and customable consenting unto them, may be made so fleshly, so worldly, and so malicious, that it taketh upon it the office of them all; right so it is againward[ ] that a soul, for long use and custom in goodness, may be made so ghostly by cleanness of living and devotion of spirit against the spirit of the flesh, and so heavenly against the spirit of the world, and so godly by peace and by charity, and by restfulness of heart, against the spirit of malice, of wrath, and of wickedness, that it hath them now of office all such good thoughts to think when him list, without forgetting, in as great perfection as the frailty of this life will suffer. and thus it may be seen how that each thought that smiteth on our hearts, whether that it be good or evil, it is not evermore the speech of our own spirit, but the consent to the thought, what so ever it be, that is ever of our own spirit. jesu grant us his grace, to consent to the good and againstand the evil. amen. finis. deo gratias index of names & scriptural references ancren riwle, the, xx, n aquinas, st. thomas, xiii, , n, n asher, symbolism of, , - augustine, st., xii, benjamin, symbolism of, xvi, xvii, , - bernard, st., xii, bilhah, symbolism of, - , - bonaventura, st., xii catherine of siena, st., xi, xvii-xix, xxv-xxvii, - , n, n caxton, xviii, xix chaucer, n, n, n, n, n chauncy, maurice, xxiv dan, symbolism of, , , , dante, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, n, n, n dinah, symbolism of, , dionysius, xxiii, xxiv divine cloud of unknowing, the, author of, xii, xvii, xxiv, xxv, xxvii, , , , - eckhart, meister, xi exmew, william, xxiv flete, william, xvii, xviii, n gad, symbolism of, , - genesis, - , - , , , hawkwood, john, xvii hilton (hylton), walter, xi, xii, xxii-xxv, - , n, n hugel, f. von, n, n hugh of st. victor, xii imitatione christi, de, xxiii n, n isaiah, issachar, symbolism of, , - jacob, symbolism of, - , , , jacopone da todi, xi james, dane, xviii james, epistle of, , jeremiah, , john, st., epistles of, , joseph, symbolism of, , - judah, symbolism of, , - juliana of norwich, xi, xxi, n, n kempe, margery, xix-xxi, - langland, piers the plowman, n, n layamons brut, n leah, symbolism of, - , , - , , , levi, symbolism of, , , luke, st., margery, see kempe matthew, st., mechthild of magdeburg, xi naphtali, symbolism of, , - , , paul, st., epistles, , , , , , , , , pepwell, xiv, xix proverbs, n psalms, the, xiv, xvi, xxvi, , , , , , , , , , pynson, xxii rachel, symbolism of, - , - , , , raymund of capua, xviii, xix reuben, symbolism of, , - richard of st. victor, xii-xv, xxii, xxv, xxvi, , n, n richard rolle of hampole, xi, xii, xvi, xvii, xxiii n, xxv, n robert of brunne, chronicle of, n ruysbroeck, jan, xi shelley, xv n simeon, symbolism of, , , song of solomon, , suso, heinrich, xi tantucci, giovanni, xvii tyrrell, george, xxi n wyclif, n, n, n wynkyn de worde, xviii, xix, xx, xxi, xxvii zebulun, symbolism of, , - zechariah, zilpah, symbolism of, - , - , footnotes: [ ] dante, convivio, i. . [ ] cf. the letter to can grande (epist. x. ), where dante, like st. thomas aquinas before him, refers to the benjamin major as "richardus de sancto victore in libro de contemplatione." [ ]par. x. , . [ ] ps. lxviii. . [ ] benjamin minor, cap. . [ ] benjamin minor, cap. . cf. shelley, the triumph of life: "their lore taught them not this: to know themselves." this passage of richard is curiously misquoted and its meaning perverted in haureau, histoire de la philosophie scolastique, i. pp. , , in the dictionary of national biography, vol. xvi., and elsewhere. [ ] benjamin minor, cap. . [ ] cf. below, pp. , . [ ] richard rolle of hampole and his followers, edited by c. horstman, vol. i. pp. - . [ ] sene, senis, or seenes, "siena," from the latin senae (catharina de senis). [ ] cf. e. gordon duff, hand-lists of english printers, - , i. p. . [ ] bibliotheca britannico-hibernica p. . [ ] quietaclacmium margerie filie johannis kempe de domibus in parochia de northgate. brit. mus., add ms. , . [ ] she was, however, apparently less strictly enclosed than was usual for an ancress. [ ] cf. g. tyrrell, sixteen revelations of divine love shewed to mother juliana of norwich, preface, p. v. [ ] in the british museum copy of pepwell's volume, ff. - of the epistle of prayer and f. of the song of angels are transposed. [ ] cf. c. t. martin, in dictionary of national biography, vol. ix. for hilton's alleged authorship of the de imitatione christi, see j. e. g. de montmorency, thomas a kempis, his age and book, pp. - . [ ] edited by g. g. perry, under the title the anehede of godd with mannis saule, as the work of richard rolle, in english prose treatises of richard rolle de hampole (early english text society, ), pp. - ; and, in two texts, by c. horstman, op. cit., vol. i. pp. - . [ ] in the mss. this is called: a pystyll of discrecion in knowenge of spirites; or: a tretis of discrescyon of spirites. [ ] all in harl. ms. , and other mss. the divine cloud of unknowing, and portions of the epistle, book, or treatise, of privy counsel have been printed, in a very unsatisfactory manner, in the divine cloud with notes and a preface by father augustine baker, o.s.b. edited by henry collins. london, . [ ] d. m. m'intyre, the cloud of unknowing, in the expositor, series vii. vol. ( ). dr. rufus m. jones, studies in mystical religion, p. , regards these treatises as the work of "a school of mystics gathered about the writer of the hid divinity." neither of these authors includes the translation of the benjamin minor, which, however, appears to me undoubtedly from the same hand as that of the divine cloud. [ ] benjamin minor, cap. . [ ] dialogo cap. . [ ] benjamin minor, cap. . [ ] the mss. have: "men clepen." [ ] so the mss., which agrees with the latin, ordinati affectus (benjamin minor, cap. ); pepwell has "ardent feelings." [ ] so pepwell, which accords with the latin: cum tante importunitate. the mss. read: "unconningly," i.e. ignorantly. [ ] so harl. ms. and pepwell; harl. ms. , ed. horstman, reads: "forthe," i.e. offer. the latin is: "et zelphae quidem sitim dominae suae copia tanta omnino extinguere non potest" (benjamin minor, cap. ). [ ] the latin has simply: "vinum quod zelpha sitit, gaudium est voluptatis" (ibid.). [ ] harl. ms. , ed. horstman, reads: "in our soul." [ ] pepwell gives the modern equivalent, "ordinate" and "inordinate," for "ordained" and "unordained," throughout. [ ] ps. cxi. (vulgate cx.). [ ] pepwell adds: "and high judge." [ ] filius visionis. [ ] gen. xxix. (vidit dominus humilitatem meam, vulgate). [ ] gen. xxix. . [ ] exauditio. [ ] matt. v. . [ ] ezek. xxxiii. . [ ] made humble. [ ] ps. li. (vulgate l.). [ ] additus, vel additio. [ ] added. cf. gen. xxix. . [ ] ps. xciv. (vulgate xciii.). [ ] gen. xxix. . [ ] gen. xxix. (vulgate): modo confitebor domino. [ ] confitens. [ ] learning. [ ] ps. cvi. , cvii. (cv., cvi., vulgate). [ ] pepwell reads: "the true goodness of god." [ ] pepwell reads: "conning." [ ] latin invisibilium: pepwell has "unseasable." [ ] pepwell has "feble." [ ] reasons. [ ] because. [ ] judicium (pepwell adds: "or judgment"). [ ] gen. xlix. : "dan shall judge his people." [ ] gen. xxx. . [ ] gen. xxx. : "comparavit me deus cum sorore mea, et invalui" (vulgate). [ ] in the latin, "comparalio vel conversio." [ ] gen. xlix. : "naphtali is a hind let loose: he giveth goodly words" (nephthali cervus emissus at dams eloquia pulchritudinis, vulgate). [ ] harl. ms. , ed. horstman, reads: "full." [ ] underloute, participle of underluten (o.e. underlutan), "to stoop beneath," or "submit to." cf. wycliffe's bible, gen. xxxvii. : "whether thow shalt be oure kyng, oither we shal be undirloute to thi bidding?" [ ] discomfort. [ ] dixit: feliciter. gen. xxx. (vulgate). [ ] felicitas. harl. ms. adds: "whether thou wilt." [ ] the mss. have: "selyness." [ ] gen. xxx. (vulgate): hoc pro beatitudine mea. [ ] beatus. [ ] natural. [ ] murmurs, complains. cf. chaucer, the persones tale, ed. skeat ss : "after bakbyting cometh grucching or murmuracion; and somtyme it springeth of impacience agayns god, and somtyme agayns man. agayns god it is, whan a man gruccheth agayn the peynes of helle, or agayns poverte, or los of catel or agayn reyn or tempest; or elles gruccheth that shrewes han prosperitee, or elles for that goode men han adversitee." [ ] pepwell adds: at the least willingly. [ ] pepwell reads: "put down." [ ] watches. [ ] promises. latin: fovet promissis. [ ] a curious mistranslation: "sed aser hosti suo facile illudit dum partem quam tuetur, alta patientiae rupe munitam conspicit" (benjamin minor, cap. ). [ ] dwelling-place. [ ] pacified. harl. ms. , ed. horstman, reads: "the cite of conscience is made pesebule." [ ] merces. [ ] so harl. ms. ; omitted in harl, ms. and by pepwell. [ ] gen. xxx. . [ ] the mss. read: "erles." [ ] gen. xlix, : "issachar asinus fortis accubans interterminos" (vulgate). [ ] rom. vii. . [ ] phil. i. . [ ] ps iv. . harl. ms. has: "wraththes and willeth not synne, or thus: beeth wrothe and synnith not." [ ] human nature in our fellow-man. [ ] fellow-christian. the words in square brackets are omitted in harl. ms. . [ ] ps. cxxxix. (vulgate cxxxviii. ) . [ ] ps. cxix. (vulgate cxviii.) . [ ] habitaculum fortitudinis. [ ] gen. xxx. . [ ] assuredly. pepwell sometimes modernises this word, but not invariably. [ ] john i. . [ ] cf. st. augustine's various writings against the pelagians, e.g. epist. clvii. (opera, ed. migne, tom. ii. coll. et seq.), ad hilarium. [ ] deliberate intention. [ ] warnes in the mss. [ ] disposition. [ ] coaxing, beguiling. harl. ms. reads: "glosing." [ ] madness. [ ] in particular. pepwell has: "surely." [ ] regret. [ ] better is art than evil strength. a proverbial expression. cf. layamons brut, (ed madden, ii. p. ); ancren riwle (ed. morton), p. (where it is rendered: "skilful prudence is better than rude force"). cf. prov. xxi. . [ ] the mss. have: "ilke." [ ] invisibilia. [ ] so pepwell and harl. ms. . harl. ms. , ed. horstman, reads: "see thiself and the candell." [ ] pepwell reads: "waking." [ ] ps. iv. - . [ ] harl. ms. reads: "light." [ ] salutary. [ ] skill. [ ] so pepwell. harl. ms. reads: "each desire on desire." harl. ms. , ed. horstman, has: "hekand desire unto desire." [ ] gen. xxxv. . [ ] ps. xxvi. (vulgate xxv.) . [ ] so harl. mss. and ; pepwell and harl. ms. read: "godly." [ ] ps. lxviii. (vulgate lxvii. ). [ ] so harl. ms. ; omitted in harl. ms. . pepwell has instead: "to the which us bring our blessed benjamin, christ jesu, amen." harl. ms. ends: "jesus jesu, mercy, jesu, grant mercy, jesu." the whole of this concluding paragraph, which is an addition of the translator, differs considerably in pepwell. [ ]so pepwell and ms. reg. d.v.; caxton has: "thou art she that art not, and i am he that am"; which is nearer to the latin. [ ]caxton reads: "i escape gracyously all his snares." [ ]cf. dante, par. xxxiii. - :-- "a quella luce cotal si diventa, che volgersi da lei per altro aspetto, e impossibil che mai si consenta; pero che il ben, ch'e del volere obbietto, tutto s'accoglie in lei, e fuor di quella e difettivo cio che li e perfetto." "such at that light does one become, that it were impossible ever to consent to turn from it for sight of ought else, for the good, that is the object of the will, is wholly gathered therein, and outside it that is defective which there is perfect." [ ]so pepwell: caxton has: "yf thou wilt gete the vertu of ghostely strength." [ ]pepwell and the ms. add: "and temptations" (caxton: "of temptacyons"); which is clearly out of place. cf. legenda, ss (acta sanctorum, aprilis, tom. iii.). [ ] cor. i. . [ ]mated. caxton has: "vertuously y-mette." cf. legenda, ss : "talis anima sic deo conjuncta." [ ] cor. xii. . [ ] "and the cause and the rote" (caxton). [ ]sometimes. [ ]caxton has: "it happed she sayde that other whyle deuoute feruour of a sowle leuyng oure lorde jhesu other by somme certeyne synne, or ellys by newe sotyll temptacyons of the fende wexyth dull and slowe, and other whyle it is y-brought to veray coldenesse." pepwell and the ms. are entirely corrupt: "it happeneth (she sayth) that otherwhyle a synner whiche is leuynge our lord jhesu by some certeyn synne, or ellys by some certeyn temptacyons of the fende," &c. the original of the passage runs thus: "frequenter enim (ut inquiebat) contingit animae deum amanti quod fervor mentalis, vel ex divina providentia, vel ex aliquali culpa, vel ex haustis adinventionibus inimici, tepescit, et quandoque quasi ad frigiditatem usque deducitur" (legenda ss ). [ ]so caxton; pepwell has: "leaving." [ ]caxton has: "seeth"; the latin text: quantumcumque videat seu sentiat. [ ]requited. [ ]so the ms.; pepwell reads: "were feble and fayle"; and caxton: "wexed feble and defayled." [ ]caxton reads: "prayng" (praying). [ ]so caxton: pepwell and ms. have: "in." [ ]latin, praelatorum suorum (i.e. of her ecclesiastical superiors), legenda, ss . [ ]omitted in pepwell and in ms. [ ]judge. cf. above, p. . [ ]judgment. [ ] "also she sayd that she hadde alwaye grete hope and truste in goddes prouydence, and to this same truste she endured her dysciples seyng unto theym that she founde and knewe" (caxton). [ ]the habergeon or the hair-shirt, the former term being applied to an instrument of penance as well as to a piece of armour. cf. chaucer, the persones tale (ed. skeat, ss ): "thanne shaltow understonde, that bodily peyne stant in disciplyne or techinge, by word or by wrytinge, or in ensample. also in weringe of heyres or of stamin, or of haubergeons on hir naked flesh, for cristes sake, and swiche manere penances. but war thee wel that swiche manere penances on thy flesh ne make nat thyn herte bitter or angry or anoyed of thy-self; for bettre is to caste awey thyn heyre, than for to caste away the sikernesse of jesu crist. and therfore seith seint paul: 'clothe yow, as they that been chosen of god, in herte of misericorde, debonairetee, suffraunce, and swich manere of clothinge'; of whiche jesu crist is more apayed than of heyres, or haubergeons, or hauberkes." [ ]wynkyn de worde has: "sholde." [ ]wynkyn de worde has: "profyte." [ ]cf. st. catherine of siena, letter to william flete (ed. gigli, ): "there are some who give themselves perfectly to chastising their body, doing very great and bitter penance, in order that the sensuality may not rebel against the reason. they have set all their desire more in mortifying the body than in slaying their own will. these are fed at the table of penance, and are good and perfect, but unless they have great humility, and compel themselves to consider the will of god and not that of men, they oft times mar their perfection by making themselves judges of those who are not going by the same way that they are going." [ ]perhaps, simply, "say many prayers"--without any special reference to the rosary. [ ]annoy. [ ]wynkyn de worde has: "mote." [ ]wynkyn de worde has: "lownesse." [ ]with-out-forth=outwardly. cf. chaucer, the persones tale, (ed. skeat, ss ): "and with-inne the hertes of folk shal be the bytinge conscience, and with-oute-forth shal be the world al brenninge." [ ]everyche=each one. [ ]according to the legend, certain "indulgences," to be gained by all who visited the holy places at jerusalem, were first granted by pope st. sylvester at the petition of constantine and st. helena. there seems no evidence as to the real date at which these special indulgences were instituted. cf. amort, de origine, progressu, valore, ac frauctu indulgentiarum, augsburg, , pars i. pp. et seq. [ ]plenary. [ ]all the indulgences attached to the holy places. [ ]probably racheness in the parish of south acre, where "there was a leper hospital, with church or chapel dedicated to st. bartholomew, of early foundation" (victoria history of the county of norfolk, ii. p. ). [ ]in true union. [ ]established firmly. [ ]wandering. [ ]so horstman. pepwell reads: "with this wonderful onehede ne may none be fuifilled." [ ]unreasonable impulses. [ ]secret nature. cf. mother juliana, revelations of divine love, xiv. cap. : "and our kindly substance is now blessedfully in god." [ ]divers. [ ]cf. de imitatione christi, ii. : "if thine heart were right, then every creature would be a mirror of life, and a book of holy doctrine. there is no creature so small and vile, as not to represent the goodness of god." [ ]horstman reads: "a mans saule." [ ]so horstman: pepwell reads: "as virtues in angels and in holy souls and in heavenly things." [ ]pepwell omits the "not." [ ]before. [ ]the truth of god's hidden mysteries. [ ]according to the measure of its love. [ ]all intervening hindrance. [ ]horstman reads: "matter." [ ]a little. [ ]before. [ ]overtaxes. [ ]craft. [ ]horstman reads: "wete he wele." [ ]this passage is defective in pepwell. [ ]ms. dd. v. , ed. horstman, has: "purges." [ ]pepwell has: "in feeling of the sound." [ ]ms. dd. v. , ed. horstman, reads: "toune" (i.e. tone). [ ]illumined. [ ]cools down grows cold. also construed with "from." cf. richard rolle psalter (ed. h. r. bramley, p. ): "he gars sa many kele fra godis luf." [ ]a mere abstract thought of god. [ ]construe: "but if he hold this feeling and this mind (that is only his own working by custom) to be a special visitation." [ ]surer, safer. [ ]pepwell adds "and in faith." [ ]the mss. add: "and bot if thou spede thee the rather or thou come to the ende of thy prayer." [ ]pepwell reads: "find." [ ]coax, beguile. [ ]falsehoods. [ ]the mss. read: "behetynges of lenger leuyng." [ ]promise. ps. xlvi. (vulgate), xlvii. (a.v.): "sing ye praises with understanding." ps. cxi. (cx. vulgate). [ ]so pepwell; harl. ms. reads: "bot forthi that there is no sekir stonding." [ ]pepwell adds in explanation: "or amends"; i.e. satisfaction. cf. langland, piers the plowman, b. xvii. : "and if it suffice noughte for assetz"; and wyclif, pistil on cristemasse day (select english works, ed. t. arnold, ii. p. ): "and thus, sith aseeth muste be maad for adams synne." [ ]ps. xxxiv. (vulgate xxxiii. ). [ ]the mss. read: "fro a lyf." [ ]the mss. read: "a lyf." [ ]so harl. ms. . pepwell reads: "also the steps of thy staff hope plainly will shew unto thee if thou do it duly, as i have told thee before, or not." [ ]summa theologica, ii.-ii. q. , a. i: "devotio nihil aliud esse videtur, quam voluntas quaedam prompte tradendi se ad ea, quae pertinent ad dei famulatum." [ ]the whole passage included in square brackets is omitted in pepwell, but is identical in the two mss. [ ]so harl. ms. ; harl. ms. reads: "medeful." [ ]the trunk. [ ]pepwell inserts: "it is but churl's meat, for." [ ]not in pepwell. [ ]pepwell reads: "and for nothing else." [ ]had never received it from him. [ ]pure love, or charity, which "attains to god himself, that it may abide in him, not that any advantage may accrue to us from him" (st. thomas aquinas, summa theologica, ii.-ii. q. , a. ). for the whole doctrine of "pure love or disinterested religion," cf. f. von hugel, the mystical element of religion, ii. pp. - . [ ]so both mss.; pepwell reads: "blessedness." [ ]hindering or marring. [ ]cf. st. thomas aquinas, summa theologica, ii.-ii. q. , a. ; and f. von hugel, op. cit., ii. p. . [ ]in the divine essence. [ ]so harl. ms. , i take "it" as the beatitude of man which is god himself. [ ]cf. dante, par. xxxiii, - :-- "ma gia volgeva il mio disiro e il velle, si come rota ch' egualmente e mossa, l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle." "but already my desire and will, even as a wheel that is equally moved, were being turned by the love that moves the sun and the other stars." [ ] cor. vi. . [ ]pepwell adds: "or sundry." [ ]so pepwell and harl. ms. ; harl. ms, reads: "they ben one spirit." [ ]cant. ii. . [ ]harl. ms. reads: "glose." pepwell adds: "or flatter." [ ]heed. [ ]pepwell adds: "or betokeneth." cf. langland, piers the plowman, a. i. : "what this mountein bemeneth." [ ]cf. above, p. note. [ ]pepwell adds: "or counsel." [ ]of thyself thou hast nought but sin. [ ]so the mss.: pepwell has: "to god." [ ]pepwell changes to "divers." [ ]cf. dante, de monarchia, iii. : "man alone of beings holds a mid-place between corruptible and incorruptible; wherefore he is rightly likened by the philosophers to the horizon which is between two hemispheres. for man, if considered after either essential part, to wit soul and body is corruptible if considered only after the one, to wit the body, but if after the other, to wit the soul, he is incorruptible. . . . if man then, is a kind of mean between corruptible and incorruptible things, since every mean savours of the nature of the extremes, it is necessary that man should savour of either nature. and since every nature is ordained to a certain end, it follows that there must be a twofold end of man, so that like as he alone amongst all beings partakes of corruptibility and incorruptibilty, so he alone amongst all beings should be ordained for two final goals of which the one should be his goal as a corruptible being, and the other as an incorruptible" (p. h. wicksteed's translation). [ ]pepwell modernises this throughout to "dwelling alone." [ ]pepwell substitutes "doubt." cf. chaucer, legend of good women, : "thryes doun she fil in swiche a were." [ ]pepwell adds: "in keeping of silence." [ ]harl. ms. reads: "more holiness than thou art worthy." [ ]nature. [ ]solitude. [ ]pepwell has: "company." [ ]pepwell reads: "better." [ ]causes. [ ] cor. ii. . [ ]simple. [ ]jas. i. . [ ]the mss. usually read "cleped" for "called." [ ]pepwell modernizes to "trouble." [ ]jas. i. . [ ]to give place to. [ ]such impulses to exceptional practices. [ ]humble itself. [ ]pleasant. [ ]pepwell reads: "wits." [ ]lest. [ ]pepwell reads: "strait." [ ]jer. ix. : "quia ascendit mors per fenestras nostras" (vulgate). pepwell reads: "as saint jerome saith"! cf. walter hilton, the ladder of perfection, i. pt. iii. cap : "lift up thy lanthorn, and thou shalt see in this image five windows, by which sin cometh into thy soul, as the prophet saith: death cometh in by our windows. these are the five senses by which thy soul goeth out of herself, and fetcheth her delight and seeketh her feeding in earthly things, contrary to the nobility of her own nature. as by the eye to see curious and fair things and so of the other senses. by the unskilful using of these senses willingly to vanities, thy soul is much letted from the sweetness of the spiritual senses within; and therefore it behoveth thee to stop these windows, and shut them, but only when need requireth to open them" (ed. dalgairns, p. ). [ ]ignorant. [ ]where natural and acquired knowledge alike fall shorts. [ ]fully. [ ]nature. [ ]pepwell has: "when thou dost feel." [ ]pepwell inserts: "i mean except the solemn vows of holy religion." [ ] cor. iii. . [ ]cf. st. catherine of siena, letter (ed. gigli): "love harmonises the three powers of our soul, and binds them together. the will moves the understanding to see, when it wishes to love; when the understanding perceives that the will would fain love, if it is a rational will, it places before it as object the ineffable love of the eternal father, who has given us the word, his own son, and the obedience and humility of the son, who endured torments, inuries, mockeries, and insults with meekness and with such great love. and thus the will, with ineffable love, follows what the eye of the understanding has beheld; and with its strong hand, it stores up in the memory the treasure that it draws from this love." [ ]losing. [ ]cant. iv. . [ ]to exercise love. [ ]divers. [ ] cor. i. , vii. ; eph. iv. . [ ]luke x. . [ ]pepwell inserts "him list thee to see, and." [ ]pepwell reads: "let be good and all that is good, and better with all that is better." [ ]luke x. . [ ]to know how to speak, etc. [ ]banishing from thy soul's vision. [ ]be able to. [ ]pepwell reads: "privily." cf. wyclif (select english works, ed. cit., i. p. ): "and after seith crist to his apostles, that thes thingis he seide bifore to hem in proverbis and mystily." [ ]pepwell reads: "rest." [ ]pepwell modernises "conne" to "learn to" throughout this passage. [ ]harl. ms. reads: "stirring"; the other ms, as pepwell. [ ]harl. ms. reads: "have." [ ]pepwell reads: "else." [ ]manifestly, i.e. unless they clearly show that they do not know how to act as they should. pepwell has: "in a part." [ ]i.e. take their advice, but do not simply imitate them. i follow the mss. in preference to pepwell, who reads: "work after no men's counsel, but sith that know well their own disposition; for such men should," etc. [ ] john iv. - . [ ]ps. lxxxv. (vulgate lxxxiv. ). [ ]zech. i. - . [ ]col. ii. . [ ] thess. i. - . [ ]pepwell adds: "or ambition." cf. chaucer, the persones tale, ed. skeat, ss : "and coveitise of hynesse by pryde of herte." [ ]burns. [ ]so harl. ms. ; pepwell has: "war." [ ]crafty device. [ ]cf. above, p. note. [ ]pepwell has: "gladly." [ ]pepwell reads "ever ready." [ ]withstand, resist. [ ]cf. mother juliana, revelations of divine love, i. cap. : "in general i am, i hope, in onehead of charity with all my even christian, for in this onehead standeth the life of all mankind that shall be saved." [ ]if it is still guilty of the other two. [ ]pepwell adds: "and voluptuous." [ ]ps. cxxxii. (vulgate cxxxi. ) . [ ]cf. walter hilton, the ladder of perfection, ii. pt. ii. cap. : "jerusalem is, as much as to say, a sight of peace, and betokeneth contemplation in perfect love of god; for contemplation is nothing else but a sight of god, which is very peace." [ ]probably isa. lvii. . [ ]pepwell reads: "most folly." [ ]pepwell adds: "or harm." cf. the chronicle of robert of brunne, - : "now may ye lyghtly bere the stones to schip wythouten dere." [ ]advisedly. [ ]partisans, abettors. [ ]the mss. read: "doles." [ ]pepwell reads: "but it is more sorrow to feel of our own spirit's deceits. for sometime our own spirit." [ ]the mss. read: "bot what thar reche"; what need to care. [ ]pepwell reads: "didst feel in there." [ ]cf. above, p. , note. [ ]pepwell adds: "and judgment." [ ]unless because of carelessness in resisting them when they first come. [ ]to regard thyself as responsible. [ ]madness. [ ]not in harl. ms. . [ ]pepwell reads: "a full damnable and a full cursed fiend in his living." [ ]pepwell adds: "and desire much." [ ]pepwell reads: "suggestion." [ ]on the other hand. jesus christ*** the dolorous passion of our lord jesus christ from the meditations of anne catherine emmerich copyright notice: this ebook was prepared from the th edition of this book, which was published in by benziger brothers in new york. the copyright for that edition is expired and the text is in the public domain. this ebook is not copyrighted and is also in the public domain. preface to the french translation. by the abbe de cazales. the writer of this preface was travelling in germany, when he chanced to meet with a book, entitled, the history of the passion of our lord jesus christ, from the meditations of anne catherine emmerich, which appeared to him both interesting and edifying. its style was unpretending, its ideas simple, its tone unassuming, its sentiments unexaggerated, and its every sentence expressive of the most complete and entire submission to the church. yet, at the same time, it would have been difficult anywhere to meet with a more touching and lifelike paraphrase of the gospel narrative. he thought that a book possessing such qualities deserved to be known on this side the rhine, and that there could be no reason why it should not be valued for its own sake, independent of the somewhat singular source whence it emanated. still, the translator has by no means disguised to himself that this work is written, in the first place, for christians; that is to say, for men who have the right to be very diffident in giving credence to particulars concerning facts which are articles of faith; and although he is aware that st. bonaventure and many others, in their paraphrases of the gospel history, have mixed up traditional details with those given in the sacred text, even these examples have not wholly reassured him. st. bonaventure professed only to give a paraphrase, whereas these revelations appear to be something more. it is certain that the holy maiden herself gave them no higher title than that of dreams, and that the transcriber of her narratives treats as blasphemous the idea of regarding them in any degree as equivalent to a fifth gospel; still it is evident that the confessors who exhorted sister emmerich to relate what she saw, the celebrated poet who passed four years near her couch, eagerly transcribing all he heard her say, and the german bishops, who encouraged the publication of his book, considered it as something more than a paraphrase. some explanations are needful on this head. the writings of many saints introduce us into a new, and, if i may be allowed the expression, a miraculous world. in all ages there have been revelations about the past, the present, the future, and even concerning things absolutely inaccessible to the human intellect. in the present day men are inclined to regard these revelations as simple hallucinations, or as caused by a sickly condition of body. the church, according to the testimony of her most approved writers, recognises three descriptions of ecstasy; of which the first is simply natural, and entirely brought about by certain physical tendencies and a highly imaginative mind; the second divine or angelic, arising from intercourse held with the supernatural world; and the third produced by infernal agency. (see, on this head, the work of cardinal bona, de discretione spirituum.) lest we should here write a book instead of a preface, we will not enter into any development of this doctrine, which appears to us highly philosophical, and without which no satisfactory explanation can be given on the subject of the soul of man and its various states. the church directs certain means to be employed to ascertain by what spirit these ecstasies are produced, according to the maxim of st. john: 'try the spirits, if they be of god.' ( jn : ). when circumstances or events claiming to be supernatural have been properly examined according to certain rules, the church has in all ages made a selection from them. many persons who have been habitually in a state of ecstasy have been canonised, and their books approved. but this approbation has seldom amounted to more than a declaration that these books contained nothing contrary to faith, and that they were likely to promote a spirit of piety among the faithful. for the church is only founded on the word of christ and on the revelations made to the apostles. whatever may since have been revealed to certain saints possesses purely a relative value, the reality of which may even be disputed--it being one of the admirable characteristics of the church, that, though inflexibly one in dogma, she allows entire liberty to the human mind in all besides. thus, we may believe private revelations, above all, when those persons to whom they were made have been raised by the church to the rank of saints publicly honoured, invoked, and venerated; but, even in these cases, we may, without ceasing to be perfectly orthodox, dispute their authenticity and divine origin. it is the place of reason to dispute and to select as it sees best. with regard to the rule for discerning between the good and the evil spirit, it is no other, according to all theologians, than that of the gospel. a fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos. by their fruits you shall know them. it must be examined in the first place whether the person who professes to have revelations mistrusts what passes within himself; whether he would prefer a more common path; whether far from boasting of the extraordinary graces which he receives, he seeks to hide them, and only makes them known through obedience; and, finally, whether he is continually advancing in humility, mortification, and charity. next, the revelations themselves must be very closely examined into; it must be seen whether there is anything in them contrary to faith; whether they are conformable to scripture and apostolic tradition; and whether they are related in a headstrong spirit, or in a spirit of entire submission to the church. whoever reads the life of anne catherine emmerich, and her book, will be satisfied that no fault can be found in any of these respects either with herself or with her revelations. her book resembles in many points the writings of a great number of saints, and her life also bears the most striking similitude to theirs. to be convinced of this fact, we need but study the writings or what is related of saints francis of assisi, bernard, bridget, hildegard, catherine of genoa, catherine of sienna, ignatius, john of the cross, teresa, and an immense number of other holy persons who are less known. so much being conceded, it is clear that in considering sister emmerich to have been inspired by god's holy spirit, we are not ascribing more merit to her book than is allowed by the church to all those of the same class. they are all edifying, and may serve to promote piety, which is their sole object. we must not exaggerate their importance by holding as an absolute fact that they proceed from divine inspiration, a favour so great that its existence in any particular case should not be credited save with the utmost circumspection. with regard, however, to our present publication, it may be urged that, considering the superior talents of the transcriber of sister emmerich's narrations, the language and expressions which he has made use of may not always have been identical with those which she employed. we have no hesitation whatever in allowing the force of this argument. most fully do we believe in the entire sincerity of m. clement brentano, because we both know and love him, and, besides, his exemplary piety and the retired life which he leads, secluded from a world in which it would depend but on himself to hold the highest place, are guarantees amply sufficient to satisfy any impartial mind of his sincerity. a poem such as he might publish, if he only pleased, would cause him to be ranked at once among the most eminent of the german poets, whereas the office which he has taken upon himself of secretary to a poor visionary has brought him nothing but contemptuous raillery. nevertheless, we have no intention to assert that in giving the conversations and discourses of sister emmerich that order and coherency in which they were greatly wanting, and writing them down in his own way, he may not unwittingly have arranged, explained, and embellished them. but this would not have the effect of destroying the originality of the recital, or impugning either the sincerity of the nun, or that of the writer. the translator professes to be unable to understand how any man can write for mere writing's sake, and without considering the probable effects which his work will produce. this book, such as it is, appears to him to be at once unusually edifying, and highly poetical. it is perfectly clear that it has, properly speaking, no literary pretensions whatever. neither the uneducated maiden whose visions are here relate, nor the excellent christian writer who had published them in so entire a spirit of literary disinterestedness, ever had the remotest idea of such a thing. and yet there are not, in our opinion, many highly worked-up compositions calculated to produce an effect in any degree comparable to that which will be brought about by the perusal of this unpretending little work. it is our hope that it will make a strong impression even upon worldlings, and that in many hearts it will prepare the way for better ideas,--perhaps even for a lasting change of life. in the next place, we are not sorry to call public attention in some degree to all that class of phenomena which preceded the foundation of the church, which has since been perpetuated uninterruptedly, and which too many christians are disposed to reject altogether, either through ignorance and want of reflection, or purely through human respect. this is a field which has hitherto been but little explored historically, psychologically, and physiologically; and it would be well if reflecting minds were to bestow upon it a careful and attentive investigation. to our christian readers we must remark that this work has received the approval of ecclesiastical authorities. it has been prepared for the press under the superintendence of the two late bishops of ratisbonne, sailer and wittman. these names are but little known in france; but in germany they are identical with learning, piety, ardent charity, and a life wholly devoted to the maintenance and propagation of the catholic faith. many french priests have given their opinion that the translation of a book of this character could not but tend to nourish piety, without, however, countenancing that weakness of spirit which is disposed to lend more importance in some respects to private than to general revelations, and consequently to substitute matters which we are simply permitted to believe, in the place of those which are of faith. we feel convinced that no one will take offence at certain details given on the subject of the outrages which were suffered by our divine lord during the course of his passion. our readers will remember the words of the psalmist: 'i am a worm and no man; the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people;' (ps : ) and those of the apostle: 'tempted in all things like as we are, without sin.' (heb : ). did we stand in need of a precedent, we should request our readers to remember how plainly and crudely bossuet describes the same scenes in the most eloquent of his four sermons on the passion of our lord. on the other hand, there have been so many grand platonic or rhetorical sentences in the books published of late years, concerning that abstract entity; on which the writers have been pleased to bestow the christian title of the word, or logos, that it may be eminently useful to show the man-god, the word made flesh, in all the reality of his life on earth, of his humiliation, and of his sufferings. it must be evident that the cause of truth, and still more that of edification, will not be the losers. introduction the following meditations will probably rank high among many similar works which the contemplative love of jesus has produced; but it is our duty here plainly to affirm that they have no pretensions whatever to be regarded as history. they are but intended to take one of the lowest places among those numerous representations of the passion which have been given us by pious writers and artists, and to be considered at the very utmost as the lenten meditations of a devout nun, related in all simplicity, and written down in the plainest and most literal language, from her own dictation. to these meditations, she herself never attached more than a mere human value, and never related them except through obedience, and upon the repeated commands of the directors of her conscience. the writer of the following pages was introduced to this holy religious by count leopold de stolberg. (the count de stolberg is one of the most eminent converts whom the catholic church has made from protestantism. he died in .) dean bernard overberg, her director extraordinary, and bishop michael sailer, who had often been her counsellor and consoler, urged her to relate to us in detail all that she experienced; and the latter, who survived her, took the deepest interest in the arrangement and publication of the notes taken down from her dictation. (the bishop of ratisbonne, one of the most celebrated defenders of the faith in germany.) these illustrious and holy men, now dead, and whose memory is blessed, were in continual communion of prayer with anne catherine, whom they loved and respected, on account of the singular graces with which god had favoured her. the editor of this book received equal encouragement, and met with no less sympathy in his labours, from the late bishop of ratisbonne, mgr. wittman. (mgr. wittman was the worthy successor of sailer, and a man of eminent sanctity, whose memory is held in veneration by all the catholics of the south of germany.) this holy bishop, who was so deeply versed in the ways of divine grace, and so well acquainted with its effects on certain souls, both from his private investigations of the subject, and his own experience, took the most lively interest in all that concerned anne catherine, and on hearing of the work in which the editor of this book was engaged, he strongly exhorted him to publish it. 'these things have not been communicated to you for nothing,' would he often say; 'god had his views in all. publish something at least of what you know, for you will thereby benefit many souls.' he at the same time brought forward various instances from his own experience and that of others, showing the benefit which had been derived from the study of works of a similar character. he delighted in calling such privileged souls as anne catherine the marrow of the bones of the church, according to the expression of st. john chrysostom, medulla enim hujus mundi sunt, and he encouraged the publication of their lives and writings as far as lay in his power. the editor of this book being taken by a kind friend to the dying bed of the holy bishop, had no reason whatever to expect to be recognised, as he had only once in his life conversed with him for a few minutes; nevertheless the dying saint knew him again, and after a few most kind words blessed and exhorted him to continue his work for the glory of god. encouraged by the approbation of such men, we therefore yield to the wishes of many virtuous friends in publishing the meditations on the passion, of this humble religious, to whom god granted the favour of being at times simple, ingenuous, and ignorant as a child, while at others she was clear sighted, sensible, possessed of a deep insight into the most mysterious and hidden things, and consumed with burning and heroic zeal, but ever forgetful of self, deriving her whole strength from jesus alone, and steadfast in the most perfect humility and entire self-abnegation. we give our readers a slight sketch of her life, intending at some future day to publish her biography more in full. the life of anne catherine emmerich, religious of the order of st. augustine, at the convent of agnetenberg, dulmen, westphalia. venerable anne catherine emmerich was born at flamske, a village situated about a mile and a half from coesfeld, in the bishopric of munster, on the th of september , and was baptised in the church of st. james at coesfeld. her parents, bernard emmerich and anne hiller, were poor peasants, but distinguished for their piety and virtue. the childhood of anne catherine bore a striking resemblance to that of the venerable anne garzias de st. barthelemi, of dominica del paradiso, and of several other holy persons born in the same rank of life as herself. her angel-guardian used to appear to her as a child; and when she was taking care of sheep in the fields, the good shepherd himself, under the form of a young shepherd, would frequently come to her assistance. from childhood she was accustomed to have divine knowledge imparted to her in visions of all kinds, and was often favoured by visits from the mother of god and queen of heaven, who, under the form of a sweet, lovely, and majestic lady, would bring the divine child to be, as it were, her companion, and would assure her that she loved and would ever protect her. many of the saints would also appear to her, and receive from her hands the garlands of flowers which she had prepared in honour of their festivals. all these favours and visions surprised the child less than if an earthly princess and the lords and ladies of her court had come to visit her. nor was she, later in life, more surprised at these celestial visits, for her innocence caused her to feel far more at her ease with our divine lord, his blessed mother and the saints, than she could ever be with even the most kind and amiable of her earthly companions. the names of father, mother, brother, and spouse, appeared to her expressive of the real connections subsisting between god and man, since the eternal word had been pleased to be born of a woman, and so to become our brother, and these sacred titles were not mere words in her mouth. while yet a child, she used to speak with innocent candour and simplicity of all that she saw, and her listeners would be filled with admiration at the histories she would relate from holy writ; but their questions and remarks having sometimes disturbed her peace of mind, she determined to keep silence on such subjects for the future. in her innocence of heart, she thought that it was not right to talk of things of this sort, that other persons never did so, and that her speech should be only yea, yea, and nay, nay, or praise be to jesus christ. the visions with which she was favoured were so like realities, and appeared to her so sweet and delightful, that she supposed all christian children were favoured with the same; and she concluded that those who never talked on such subjects were only more discreet and modest than herself, so she resolved to keep silence also, to be like them. almost from her cradle she possessed the gift of distinguishing what was good or evil, holy or profane, blessed or accursed, in material as well as in spiritual things, thus resembling st. sibyllina of pavia, ida of louvain, ursula benincasa, and some other holy souls. in her earliest childhood she used to bring out of the fields useful herbs, which no one had ever before discovered to be good for anything, and plant them near her father's cottage, or in some spot where she was accustomed to work and play; while on the other hand she would root up all poisonous plants, and particularly those ever used for superstitious practices or in dealings with the devil. were she by chance in a place where some great crime had been committed, she would hastily run away, or begin to pray and do penance. she used also to perceive by intuition when she was in a consecrated spot, return thanks to god, and be filled with a sweet feeling of peace. when a priest passed by with the blessed sacrament, even at a great distance from her home or from the place where she was taking care of her flock, she would feel a strong attraction in the direction whence he was coming, run to meet him, and be kneeling in the road, adoring the blessed sacrament, long before he could reach the spot. she knew when any object was consecrated, and experienced a feeling of disgust and repugnance when in the neighbourhood of old pagan cemeteries, whereas she was attracted to the sacred remains of the saints as steel by the magnet. when relics were shown to her, she knew what saints they had belonged to, and could give not only accounts of the minutest and hitherto unknown particulars of their lives, but also histories of the relics themselves, and of the places where they had been preserved. during her whole life she had continual intercourse with the souls in purgatory; and all her actions and prayers were offered for the relief of their sufferings. she was frequently called upon to assist them, and even reminded in some miraculous manner, if she chanced to forget them. often, while yet very young, she used to be awakened out of her sleep by bands of suffering souls, and to follow them on cold winter's nights with bare feet, the whole length of the way of the cross to coesfeld, though the ground was covered with snow. from her infancy to the day of her death she was indefatigable in relieving the sick, and in dressing and curing wounds and ulcers, and she was accustomed to give to the poor every farthing she possessed. so tender was her conscience, that the slightest sin she fell into caused her such pain as to make her ill, and absolution then always restored her immediately to health. the extraordinary nature of the favours bestowed on her by almighty god was no hindrance in the way of her devoting herself to hard labour, like any other peasant-girl; and we may also be allowed to observe that a certain degree of the spirit of prophecy is not unusually to be found among her country men and women. she was taught in the school of suffering and mortification, and there learned lessons of perfection. she allowed herself no more sleep or food than was absolutely necessary; passed whole hours in prayer every night; and in winter often knelt out of doors on the snow. she slept on the ground on planks arranged in the form of a cross. her food and drink consisted of what was rejected by others; she always kept the best parts even of that for the poor and sick, and when she did not know of anyone to give them to, she offered them to god in a spirit of child-like faith, begging him to give them to some person who was more in need than herself. when there was anything to be seen or heard which had no reference to god or religion, she found some excuse for avoiding the spot to which others were hastening, or, if there, closed her eyes and ears. she was accustomed to say that useless actions were sinful, and that when we denied our bodily senses any gratification of this kind, we were amply repaid by the progress which we made in the interior life, in the same manner as pruning renders vines and other fruittrees more productive. from her early youth, and wherever she went, she had frequent symbolical visions, which showed her in parables, as it were, the object of her existence, the means of attaining it, and her future sufferings, together with the dangers and conflicts which she would have to go through. she was in her sixteenth year, when one day, whilst at work in the fields with her parents and sisters, she heard the bell ringing at the convent of the sisters of the annunciation, at coesfeld. this sound so inflamed her secret desire to become a nun, and had so great an effect upon her, that she fainted away, and remained ill and weak for a long time after. when in her eighteenth year she was apprenticed at coesfeld to a dressmaker, with whom she passed two years, and then returned to her parents. she asked to be received at the convents of the augustinians at borken, of the trappists at darfeld, and of the poor clares at munster; but her poverty, and that of these convents, always presented an insuperable obstacle to her being received. at the age of twenty, having saved twenty thalers (about l. english), which she had earned by her sewing, she went with this little sum--a perfect fortune for a poor peasant-girl--to a pious organist of coesfeld, whose daughter she had known when she first lived in the town. her hope was that, by learning to play on the organ, she might succeed in obtaining admittance into a convent. but her irresistible desire to serve the poor and give them everything she possessed left her no time to learn music, and before long she had so completely stripped herself of everything, that her good mother was obliged to bring her bread, milk, and eggs, for her own wants and those of the poor, with whom she shared everything. then her mother said: 'your desire to leave your father and myself, and enter a convent, gives us much pain; but you are still my beloved child, and when i look at your vacant seat at home, and reflect that you have given away all your savings, so as to be now in want, my heart is filled with sorrow, and i have now brought you enough to keep you for some time.' anne catherine replied: 'yes, dear mother, it is true that i have nothing at all left, because it was the holy will of god that others should be assisted by me; and since i have given all to him, he will now take care of me, and bestow his divine assistance upon us all.' she remained some years at coesfeld, employed in labour, good works, and prayer, being always guided by the same inward inspirations. she was docile and submissive as a child in the hands of her guardian-angel. although in this brief sketch of her life we are obliged to omit many interesting circumstances, there is one which we must not pass over in silence. when about twenty-four years of age, she received a favour from our lord, which has been granted to many persons devoted in an especial manner to meditation on his painful passion; namely, to experience the actual and visible sufferings of his sacred head, when crowned with thorns. the following is the account she herself has given of the circumstances under which so mysterious a favour was bestowed upon her: 'about four years previous to my admittance into the convent, consequently in , it happened that i was in the jesuits' church at coesfeld, at about twelve o'clock in the day, kneeling before a crucifix and absorbed in meditation, when all on a sudden i felt a strong but pleasant heat in my head, and i saw my divine spouse, under the form of a young man clothed with light, come towards me from the altar, where the blessed sacrament was preserved in the tabernacle. in his left hand he held a crown of flowers, in his right hand a crown of thorns, and he bade me choose which i would have. i chose the crown of thorns; he placed it on my head, and i pressed it down with both hands. then he disappeared, and i returned to myself, feeling, however, violent pain around my head. i was obliged to leave the church, which was going to be closed. one of my companions was kneeling by my side, and as i thought she might have seen what happened to me, i asked her when we got home whether there was not a wound on my forehead, and spoke to her in general terms of my vision, and of the violent pain which had followed it. she could see nothing outwardly, but was not astonished at what i told her, because she knew that i was sometimes in an extraordinary state, without her being able to understand the cause. the next day my forehead and temples were very much swelled, and i suffered terribly. this pain and swelling often returned, and sometimes lasted whole days and nights. i did not remark that there was blood on my head until my companions told me i had better put on a clean cap, because mine was covered with red spots. i let them think whatever they liked about it, only taking care to arrange my head dress so as to hide the blood which flowed from my head, and i continued to observe the same precaution even after i entered the convent, where only one person perceived the blood, and she never betrayed my secret.' several other contemplative persons, especially devoted to the passion of our lord, have been admitted to the privilege of suffering the torture inflicted by the crown of thorns, after having seen a vision in which the two crowns were offered them to choose between, for instance, among others, st. catherine of sienna, and pasithea of crogis, a poor clare of the same town, who died in . the writer of these pages may here be allowed to remark that he himself has, in full daylight, several times seen blood flow down the forehead and face, and even beyond the linen wrapped round the neck of anne catherine. her desire to embrace a religious life was at length gratified. the parents of a young person whom the augustinian nuns of dulmen wished to receive into their order, declared that they would not give their consent except on condition that anne catherine was taken at the same time. the nuns yielded their assent, though somewhat reluctantly, on account of their extreme poverty; and on the th november , one week before the feast of the presentation of the blessed virgin, anne catherine entered on her novitiate. at the present day vocations are not so severely tested as formerly; but in her case, providence imposed special trials, for which, rigorous as they were, she felt she never could be too grateful. sufferings or privations, which a soul, either alone or in union with others, imposes upon herself, for god's greater glory, are easy to bear; but there is one cross more nearly resembling the cross of christ than any other, and that is, lovingly and patiently to submit to unjust punishment, rebuffs, or accusations. it was the will of god that during her year's novitiate she should, independently of the will of any creature, be tried as severely as the most strict mistress of novices could have done before any mitigations had been allowed in the rules. she learned to regard her companions as instruments in the hands of god for her sanctification; and at a later period of her life many other things appeared to her in the same light. but as it was necessary that her fervent soul should be constantly tried in the school of the cross, god was pleased that she should remain in it all her life. in many ways her position in the convent was excessively painful. not one of her companions, nor even any priest or doctor, could understand her case. she had learned, when living among poor peasants, to hide the wonderful gifts which god had bestowed on her; but the case was altered now that she was in familiar intercourse with a large number of nuns, who, though certainly good and pious, were filled with ever-increasing feelings of curiosity, and even of spiritual jealousy in her regard. then, the contracted ideas of the community, and the complete ignorance of the nuns concerning all those exterior phenomena by which the interior life manifests itself, gave her much to endure, the more so, as these phenomena displayed themselves in the most unusual and astonishing manner. she heard everything that was said against her, even when the speakers were at on end of the convent and she at the other, and her heart was most deeply wounded as if by poisoned arrows. yet she bore all patiently a lovingly without showing that she knew what was said of her. more than once charity impelled her to cast herself at the feet of some nun who was particularly prejudiced against her, and ask her pardon with tears. then, she was suspected of listening at the doors, for the private feelings of dislike entertained against her became known, no one knew how, and the nuns felt uncomfortable and uneasy, in spite of themselves, when in her company. whenever the rule (the minutest point of which was sacred in her eyes) was neglected in the slightest degree, she beheld in spirit each infringement, and at times was inspired to fly to the spot where the rule was being broken by some infringement of the vow of poverty, or disregards of the hours of silence, and she would then repeat suitable passages from the rule, without having ever learned them. she thus became an object of aversion to all those religious who broke the rule; and her sudden appearance among them had almost the effect of apparitions. god had bestowed upon her the gift of tears to so great an extent, that she often passed whole hours in the church weeping over the sins and ingratitude of men, the sufferings of the church, the imperfections of the community, and her own faults. but these tears of sublime sorrow could be understood by none but god, before whom she shed them, and men attributed them to mere caprice, a spirit of discontent, or some other similar cause. her confessor had enjoined that she should receive the holy communion more frequently than the other nuns, because, so ardently did she hunger after the bread of angels, that she had been more than once near dying. these heavenly sentiments awakened feelings of jealousy in her sisters, who sometimes even accused her of hypocrisy. the favour which had been shown her in her admittance into the convent, in spite of her poverty, was also made a subject of reproach. the thought of being thus an occasion of sin to others was most painful to her, and she continually besought god to permit her to bear herself the penalty of this want of charity in her regard. about christmas, of the year , she had a very severe illness, which began by a violent pain about her heart. this pain did not leave her even when she was cured, and she bore it in silence until the year , when the mark of a cross was imprinted exteriorly in the same place, as we shall relate further on. her weakness and delicate health caused her to be looked upon more as burdensome than useful to the community; and this, of course, told against her in all ways, yet she was never weary of working and serving the others, nor was she ever so happy as at this period of her life--spent in privations and sufferings of every description. on the th of november , at the age of twenty-nine, she pronounced her solemn vows, and became the spouse of jesus christ, in the convent of agnetenberg, at dulmen. 'when i had pronounced my vows,' she says, 'my relations were again extremely kind to me. my father and my eldest brother brought me two pieces of cloth. my father, a good, but stern man, and who had been much averse to my entering the convent, had told me, when we parted, that he would willingly pay for my burial, but that he would give nothing for the convent; and he kept his word, for this piece of cloth was the winding sheet used for my spiritual burial in the convent.' 'i was not thinking of myself,' she says again, 'i was thinking of nothing but our lord and my holy vows. my companions could not understand me; nor could i explain my state to them. god concealed from them many of the favours which he bestowed upon me, otherwise they would have had very false ideas concerning me. notwithstanding all my trials and sufferings, i was never more rich interiorly, and my soul was perfectly flooded with happiness. my cell only contained one chair without a seat, and another without a back; yet in my eyes, it was magnificently furnished, and when there i often thought myself in heaven. frequently during the night, impelled by love and by the mercy of god, i poured forth the feelings of my soul by conversing with him on loving and familiar language, as i had always done from my childhood, and then those who were watching me would accuse me of irreverence and disrespect towards god. once, i happened to say that it appeared to me that i should be guilty of greater disrespect did i receive the body of our lord without having conversed familiarly with him, and i was severely reprimanded. amid all these trials, i yet lived in peace with god and with all his creatures. when i was working in the garden, the birds would come and rest on my head and shoulders, and we would together sing the praises of god. i always beheld my angel-guardian at my side, and although the devil used frequently to assault and terrify me in various ways, he was never permitted to do me much harm. my desire for the blessed sacrament was so irresistible, that often at night i left my cell and went to the church, if it was open; but if not, i remained at the door or by the walls, even in winter, kneeling or prostrate, with my arms extended in ecstasy. the convent chaplain, who was so charitable as to come early to give me the holy communion, used to find me in this state, but as soon as he was come and had opened the church, i always recovered, and hastened to the holy table, there to receive my lord and my god. when i was sacristan, i used all on a sudden to feel myself ravished in spirit, and ascend to the highest parts of the church, on to cornices, projecting parts of the building, and mouldings, where it seemed impossible for any being to get by human means. then i cleaned and arranged everything, and it appeared to me that i was surrounded by blessed spirits, who transported me about and held me up in their hands. their presence did not cause me the least uneasiness, for i had been accustomed to it from my childhood, and i used to have the most sweet and familiar intercourse with them. it was only when i was in the company of certain men that i was really alone; and so great was then my feeling of loneliness that i could not help crying like a child that has strayed from home.' we now proceed to her illnesses, omitting any description of some other remarkable phenomena of her ecstatic life, only recommending the reader to compare the accounts we have already given with what is related of st. mary magdalen of pazzi. anne catherine had always been weak and delicate, and yet had been, from her earliest childhood, in the habit of practising many mortifications, of fasting and of passing the night in watching and prayer in the open air. she had been accustomed to continue hard labour in the fields, at all seasons of the year, and her strength was also necessarily much tried by the exhausting and supernatural states through which she so frequently passed. at the convent she continued to work in the garden and in the house, whilst her spiritual labours and sufferings were ever on the increase, so that it is by no means surprising that she was frequently ill; but her illnesses arose from yet another cause. we have learned, from careful observations made every day for the space of four years, and also from what she herself was unwillingly forced to admit, that during the whole course of her life, and especially during that part of it which she spent at the convent, when she enjoyed the highest spiritual favours, a great portion of her illnesses and sufferings came from taking upon herself the sufferings of others. sometimes she asked for the illness of a person who did not bear it patiently, and relieved him of the whole or of a part of his sufferings, by taking them upon herself; sometimes, wishing to expiate a sin or put an end to some suffering, she gave herself up into the hands of god, and he, accepting her sacrifice, permitted her thus, in union with the merits of his passion, to expiate the sin by suffering some illness corresponding to it. she had consequently to bear, not only her own maladies, but those also of others--to suffer in expiation of the sins of her brethren, and of the faults and negligences of certain portions of the christian community--and, finally, to endure many and various sufferings in satisfaction for the souls of purgatory. all these sufferings appeared like real illnesses, which took the most opposite and variable forms, and she was placed entirely under the care of the doctor, who endeavoured by earthly remedies to cure illnesses which in reality were the very sources of her life. she said on this subject--'repose in suffering has always appeared to me the most desirable condition possible. the angels themselves would envy us, were envy not an imperfection. but for sufferings to bear really meritorious we must patiently and gratefully accept unsuitable remedies and comforts, and all other additional trials. i did not myself fully understand my state, nor know what it was to lead to. in my soul i accepted my different sufferings, but in my body it was my duty to strive against them. i had given myself wholly and entirely to my heavenly spouse, and his holy will was being accomplished in me; but i was living on earth, where i was not to rebel against earthly wisdom and earthly prescriptions. even had i fully comprehended my state, and had both time and power to explain it, there was no one near who would have been able to understand me. a doctor would simply have concluded that i was entirely mad, and would have increased his expensive and painful remedies tenfold. i have suffered much in this way during the whole of my life, and particularly when i was at the convent, from having unsuitable remedies administered to me. often, when my doctors and nurses had reduced me to the last agony, and that i was near death, god took pity on me, and sent me some supernatural assistance, which effected an entire cure.' four years before the suppression of her convent she went to flamske for two days to visit her parents. whilst there she went once to kneel and pray for some hours before the miraculous cross of the church of st. lambert, at coesfeld. she besought the almighty to bestow the gifts of peace and unity upon her convent, offered him the passion of jesus christ for that intention, and implored him to allow her to feel a portion of the sufferings which were endured by her divine spouse on the cross. from the time that she made this prayer her hands and feet became burning and painful, and she suffered constantly from fever, which she believed was the cause of the pain in her hands and feet, for she did not dare to think that her prayer had been granted. often she was unable to walk, and the pain in her hands prevented her from working as usual in the garden. on the rd december , the convent was suppressed, and the church closed. (under the government of jerome bonaparte, king of westphalia.) the nuns dispersed in all directions, but anne catherine remained, poor and ill. a kindhearted servant belonging to the monastery attended upon her out of charity, and an aged emigrant priest, who said mass in the convent, remained also with her. these three individuals, being the poorest of the community, did not leave the convent until the spring of . she was still very unwell, and could not be moved without great difficulty. the priest lodged with a poor widow who lived in the neighbourhood, and anne catherine had in the same house a wretched little room on the ground-floor, which looked on the street. there she lived, in poverty and sickness, until the autumn of . her ecstasies in prayer, and her spiritual intercourse with the invisible world, became more and more frequent. she was about to be called to a state with which she was herself but imperfectly acquainted, and in order to enter which she did nothing but submissively abandon herself to the will of god. our lord was pleased about this time to imprint upon her virginal body the stigmas of his cross and of his crucifixion, which were to the jews a stumbling-block, and to the gentiles folly, and to many persons who call themselves christians, both the one and the other. from her very earliest childhood she had besought our lord to impress the marks of his cross deeply upon her heart, that so she might never forget his infinite love for men; but she had never thought of receiving any outward marks. rejected by the world, she prayed more fervently than ever for this end. on the th of august, the feast of st. augustine, the patron of her order, as she was making this prayer in bed, ravished in ecstasy and her arms stretched forth, she beheld a young man approach her surrounded with light. it was under this form that her divine spouse usually appeared to her, and he now made upon her body with his right hand the mark of a common cross. from this time there was a mark like a cross upon her bosom, consisting of two bands crossed, about three inches long and one wide. later the skin often rose in blisters on this place, as if from a burn, and when these blisters burst a burning colourless liquid issued from them, sometimes in such quantities as to soak through several sheets. she was long without perceiving what the case really was, and only thought that she was in a strong perspiration. the particular meaning of this mark has never been known. some weeks later, when making the same prayer, she fell into an ecstasy, and beheld the same apparition, which presented her with a little cross of the shape described in her accounts of the passion. she eagerly received and fervently pressed it to her bosom, and then returned it. she said that this cross was as soft and white as wax, but she was not at first aware that it had made an external mark upon her bosom. a short time after, having gone with her landlady's little girl to visit an old hermitage near dulmen, she all on a sudden fell into an ecstasy, fainted away, and on her recovery was taken home by a poor peasant woman. the sharp pain which she felt in her chest continued to increase, and she saw that there was what looked like a cross, about three inches in length, pressed tightly upon her breast-bone, and looking red through the skin. as she had spoken about her vision to a nun with whom she was intimate, her extraordinary state began to be a good deal talked of. on all souls' day, , she went out for the last time, and with much difficulty succeeded in reaching the church. from that time till the end of the year she seemed to be dying, and received the last sacraments. at christmas a smaller cross appeared on the top of that upon her chest. it was the same shape as the larger one, so that the two together formed a double forked cross. blood flowed from this cross every wednesday, so as to leave the impression of its shape on paper laid over it. after a time this happened on fridays instead. in this flow of blood took place less frequently, but the cross became as red as fire every friday. at a later period of her life more blood flowed from this cross, especially every good friday; but no attention was paid to it. on the th march , the writer of these pages saw this cross of a deep red colour, and bleeding all over. in its usual state it was colourless, and its position only marked by slight cracks in the skin... other ecstaticas have received similar marks of the cross; among others, catherine of raconis, marina de l' escobar, emilia bichieri, s. juliani falconieri, etc. she received the stigmas on the last days of the year . on the th december, about three o'clock in the afternoon, she was lying on her bed in her little room, extremely ill, but in a state of ecstasy and with her arms extended, meditating on the sufferings of her lord, and beseeching him to allow her to suffer with him. she said five our fathers in honour of the five wounds, and felt her whole heart burning with love. she then saw a light descending towards her, and distinguished in the midst of it the resplendent form of her crucified saviour, whose wounds shone like so many furnaces of light. her heart was overflowing with joy and sorrow, and, at the sight of the sacred wounds, her desire to suffer with her lord became intensely violent. then triple rays, pointed like arrows, of the colour of blood, darted forth from the hands, feet, and side of the sacred apparition, and struck her hands, feet, and right side. the triple rays from the side formed a point like the head of a lance. the moment these rays touched her, drops of blood flowed from the wounds which they made. long did she remain in a state of insensibility, and when she recovered her senses she did not know who had lowered her outstretched arms. it was with astonishment that she beheld blood flowing from the palms of her hands, and felt violent pain in her feet and side. it happened that her landlady's little daughter came into her room, saw her hands bleeding, and ran to tell her mother, who with great anxiety asked anne catherine what had happened, but was begged by her not to speak about it. she felt, after having received the stigmas, that an entire change had taken place in her body; for the course of her blood seemed to have changed, and to flow rapidly towards the stigmas. she herself used to say: 'no words can describe in what manner it flows.' we are indebted to a curious incident for our knowledge of the circumstances which we have here related. on the th december , she had a detailed vision of all that had happened to herself, but so that she thought it concerned some other nun who she imagined must be living not far off, and who she supposed had experienced the same things as herself. she related all these details with a very strong feeling of compassion, humbling herself, without knowing it, before her own patience and sufferings. it was most touching to hear her say: 'i ought never to complain anymore, now that i have seen the sufferings of that poor nun; her heart is surrounded with a crown of thorns, but she bears it placidly and with a smiling countenance. it is shameful indeed for me to complain, for she had a far heavier burden to bear than i have.' these visions, which she afterwards recognised to be her own history, were several times repeated, and it is from them that the circumstances under which she received the stigmas became known. otherwise she would not have related so many particulars about what her humility never permitted her to speak of, and concerning which, when asked by her spiritual superiors whence her wounds proceeded, the utmost she said was: 'i hope that they come from the hand of god.' the limits of this work preclude us from entering upon the subject of stigmas in general, but we may observe that the catholic church has produced a certain number of persons, st. francis of assisi being the first, who have attained to that degree of contemplative love of jesus which is the most sublime effect of union with his sufferings, and is designated by theologians, vulnus divinum, plago amoris viva. there are known to have been at least fifty. veronica giuliani, a capuchiness, who died at citta di castello in , is the last individual of the class who has been canonised (on the th may ). her biography, published at cologne in , gives a description of the state of persons with stigmas, which in many ways is applicable to anne catherine. colomba schanolt, who died at bamberg in , magdalen lorger, who died at hadamar in , both dominicanesses, and rose serra, a capuchiness at ozieri in sardinia, who received the stigmas in , are those of our own times of whom we know the most. josephine kumi, of the convent of wesen, near lake wallenstadt in switzerland, who was still living in , also belonged to this class of persons, but we are not entirely certain whether she had the stigmas. anne catherine being, as we have said, no longer able to walk or rise from her bed, soon became unable also to eat. before long she could take nothing but a little wine and water, and finally only pure water; sometimes, but very rarely, she managed to swallow the juice of a cherry or a plum, but she immediately vomited any solid food, taken in ever so small a quantity. this inability to take food, or rather this faculty of living for a great length of time upon nothing but water, we are assured by learned doctors is not quite unexampled in the history of the sick. theologians will be perfectly aware that here are many instances of contemplative ascetics, and particularly of persons frequently in a state of ecstasy and who have received the stigmas, remaining long without taking any other food than the blessed sacrament; for instance, st. nicholas of flue, st. liduvina of schiedam, st. catherine of sienna, st. angela of foligno, and st. louise de l'ascension. all the phenomena exhibited in the person of anne catherine remained concealed even from those who had the most intercourse with her, until the th february , when they were discovered accidentally by one of her old convent companions. by the end of march, the whole town talked of them. on the rd of march, the physician of the neighbourhood forced her to undergo an examination. contrary to his expectation, he was convinced of the truth, drew up an official report of what he had seen, became her doctor and her friend, and remained such to her death. on the th of march, commissioners were appointed to examine into her case by the spiritual authorities of munster. the consequence of this was that anne catherine was henceforth looked upon kindly by her superiors, and acquired the friendship of the late dean overberg, who from that time paid her every year a visit of several days' duration, and was her consoler and spiritual director. the medical counsellor from druffel, who was present at this examination in the capacity of doctor, never ceased to venerate her. in , he published in the medical journal of salzbourg a detailed account of the phenomena which he had remarked in the person of anne catherine, and to this we refer those of our readers who desire more particulars upon the subject. on the th of april, m. garnier, the commissary-general of the french police, came from munster to see her; he inquired minutely into her case, and having learned that she neither prophesied nor spoke on politics, declared that there was no occasion for the police to occupy themselves about her. in , he still spoke of her at paris with respect and emotion. on the nd of july , overberg came to see her, with count de stolberg and his family. they remained two days with her, and stolberg, in a letter which has been several times printed, bore witness to the reality of the phenomena observed in anne catherine, and gave expression to his intense veneration for her. he remained her friend as long as he lived, and the members of his family never ceased recommending themselves to her prayers. on the th of september , overberg took the daughter of the princess galitzin (who died in ) to visit her, and they saw with their own eyes blood flow copiously from her stigmas. this distinguished lady repeated her visit, and, after becoming princess of salm, never varied in her sentiments, but, together with her family, remained in constant communion of prayer with anne catherine. many other persons in all ranks of life were, in like manner, consoled and edified by visiting her bed of suffering. on the rd of october , she was carried to another lodging, the window of which looked out upon a garden. the condition of the saintly nun became day by day more painful. her stigmas were a source of indescribable suffering to her, down to the moment of her death. instead of allowing her thoughts to dwell upon those graces to the interior presence of which they bore such miraculous outward testimony, she learned from them lessons of humility, by considering them as a heavy cross laid upon her for her sins. her suffering body itself was to preach jesus crucified. it was difficult indeed to be an enigma to all persons, an object of suspicion to the greatest number, and of respect mingled with fear to some few, without yielding to sentiments of impatience, irritability, or pride. willingly would she have lived in entire seclusion from the world, but obedience soon compelled her to allow herself to be examined and to have judgment passed upon her by a vast number of curious persons. suffering, as she was, the most excruciating pains, she was not even allowed to be her own mistress, but was regarded as something which everyone fancied he had a right to look at and to pass judgment upon,--often with no good results to anyone, but greatly to the prejudice of her soul and body, because she was thus deprived of so much rest and recollection of spirit. there seemed to be no bounds to what was expected of her, and one fat man, who had some difficulty in ascending her narrow winding staircase, was heard to complain that a person like anne catherine, who ought to be exposed on the public road, where everyone could see her, should remained in a lodging so difficult to reach. in former ages, persons in her state underwent in private the examination of the spiritual authorities, and carried out their painful vocation beneath the protecting shadow of hallowed walls; but our suffering heroine had been cast forth from the cloister into the world at a time when pride, coldness of heart, and incredulity were all the vogue; marked with the stigmas of the passion of christ, she was forced to wear her bloody robe in public, under the eyes of men who scarce believed in the wounds of christ, far less in those which were but their images. thus this holy woman, who in her youth had been in the habit of praying for long hours before pictures of all the stages of christ's painful passion, or before wayside crosses, was herself made like unto a cross on the public road, insulted by one passer by, bathed in warm tears of repentance by a second, regarded as a mere physical curiosity by a third, and venerated by a fourth, whose innocent hands would bring flowers to lay at her feet. in her aged mother came from the country to die by her side. anne catherine showed her all the love she could by comforting and praying for her, and closing her eyes with her own hands--those hands marked with the stigmas on the th of march of the same year. the inheritance left to anne catherine by her mother was more than sufficient for one so imbued with the spirit of mortification and sufferings; and in her turn she left it unimpaired to her friends. it consisted of these three sayings:--'lord, thy will, not mine, be done; ' 'lord, give me patience, and then strike hard;' 'those things which are not good to put in the pot are at least good to put beneath it.' the meaning of this last proverb was: if things are not fit to be eaten, they may at least be burned, in order that food may be cooked; this suffering does not nourish my heart, but by bearing it patiently, i may at least increase the fire of divine love, by which alone life can profit us anything. she often repeated these proverbs, and then thought of her mother with gratitude. her father had died some little time before. the writer of these pages became acquainted with her state first through reading a copy of that letter of stolberg, to which we have already alluded, and afterwards through conversation with a friend who had passed several weeks with her. in september he was invited by bishop sailer to meet him at the count de stolberg's, in westphalia; and he went in the first place to sondermuhlen to see the count, who introduced him to overberg, from whom he received a letter addressed to anne catherine's doctor. he paid her his first visit on the th of september ; and she allowed him to pass several hours by her side each day, until the arrival of sailer. from the very beginning, she gave him her confidence to a remarkable extent, and this in the most touching and ingenuous manner. no doubt she was conscious that by relating without reserve the history of all the trials, joys, and sorrows of her whole life, she was bestowing a most precious spiritual alms upon him. she treated him with the most generous hospitality, and had no hesitation in doing so, because he did not oppress her and alarm her humility by excessive admiration. she laid open her interior to him in the same charitable spirit as a pious solitary would in the morning offer the flowers and fruit which had grown in his garden during the night to some way-worn traveller, who, having lost his road in the desert of the world, finds him sitting near his hermitage. wholly devoted to her god, she spoke in this open manner as a child would have done, unsuspectingly, with no feelings of mistrust, and with no selfish end in view. may god reward her! her friend daily wrote down all the observations that he made concerning her, and all that she told him about her life, whether interior or exterior. her words were characterised alternately by the most childlike simplicity and the most astonishing depth of thought, and they foreshadowed, as it were, the vast and sublime spectacle which later was unfolded, when it became evident that the past, the present, and the future, together with all that pertained to the sanctification, profanation, and judgment of souls, formed before and within her an allegorical and historical drama, for which the different events of the ecclesiastical year furnished subjects, and which it divided into scenes, so closely linked together were all the prayers and sufferings which she offered in sacrifice for the church militant. on the nd of october sailer came to see her, and having remarked that she was lodging at the back of a public house, and that men were playing at nine-pins under her window, said in the playful yet thoughtful manner which was peculiar to him: 'see, see; all things are as they should be--the invalid nun, the spouse of our lord, is lodging in a publichouse above the ground where men are playing at nine-pins, like the soul of man in his body.' his interview with anne catherine was most affecting; it was indeed beautiful to behold these two souls, who were both on fire with the love of jesus, and conducted by grace through such different paths, meet thus at the foot of the cross, the visible stamp of which was borne by one of them. on friday, the rd of october, sailer remained alone with her during nearly the whole of the day; he saw blood flow from her head, her hands, and her feet, and he was able to bestow upon her great consolation in her interior trials. he most earnestly recommended her to tell everything without reserve to the writer of these pages, and he came to an understanding upon the subject with her ordinary director. he heard her confession, gave her the holy communion on saturday, the th, and then continued his journey to the count de stolberg's. on his return, at the beginning of november, he again passed a day with her. he remained her friend until death, prayed constantly for her, and asked her prayers whenever he found himself in trying of difficult positions. the writer of these pages remained until january. he returned in may , and continued to watch anne catherine almost uninterruptedly until her death. the saintly maiden continually besought the almighty to remove the exterior stigmas, on account of the trouble and fatigue which they occasioned, and her prayer was granted at the end of seven years. towards the conclusion of the year , the blood first flowed less frequently from her wounds, and then ceased altogether. on the th of december, scabs fell from her feet and hands, and there only remained white scars, which became red on certain days, but the pain she suffered was undiminished in the slightest degree. the mark of the cross, and the wound on her right side, were often to be seen as before, but not at any stated times. on certain days she always had the most painful sensations around her head, as though a crown of thorns were being pressed upon it. on these occasions she could not lean her head against anything, nor even rest it on her hand, but had to remain for long hours, sometimes even for whole nights, sitting up in her bed, supported by cushions, whilst her pallid face, and the irrepressible groans of pain which escaped her, made her like an awful living representation of suffering. after she had been in this state, blood invariably flowed more or less copiously from around her head. sometimes her head-dress only was soaked with it, but sometimes the blood would flow down her face and neck. on good friday, april th, , all her wounds re-opened and bled, and closed again on the following days. a most rigorous inquiry into her state was made by some doctors and naturalists. for that end she was placed alone in a strange house, where she remained from the th to the th of august; but this examination appears to have produced no particular effects in any way. she was brought back to her own dwelling on the th of august, and from that time until she died she was left in peace, save that she was occasionally annoyed by private disputes and public insults. on this subject overberg wrote her the following words: 'what have you had to suffer personally of which you can complain? i am addressing a soul desirous of nothing so much as to become more and more like to her divine spouse. have you not been treated far more gently than was your adorable spouse? should it not be a subject of rejoicing to you, according to the spirit, to have been assisted to resemble him more closely, and thus to be more pleasing in his eyes? you had suffered much with jesus, but hitherto insults had been for the most part spared you. with the crown of thorns you had not worn the purple mantle and the robe of scorn, much less had you yet heard, away with him! crucify him! crucify him! i cannot doubt but that these sentiments are yours. praise be to jesus christ.' on good friday, the th of march , blood flowed from her head, feet, hands, chest, and side. it happened that when she fainted, one of the persons who were with her, knowing that the application of relics relieved her, placed near her feet a piece of linen in which some were wrapped, and the blood which came from her wounds reached this piece of linen after a time. in the evening, when this same piece of linen with the relics was being placed on her chest and shoulders, in which she was suffering much, she suddenly exclaimed, while in a state of ecstasy: 'it is most wonderful, but i see my heavenly spouse lying in the tomb in the earthly jerusalem; and i also see him living in the heavenly jerusalem surrounded by adoring saints, and in the midst of these saints i see a person who is not a saint--a nun. blood flows from her head, her side, her hands, and her feet, and the saints are above the bleeding parts.' on the th february she fell into an ecstasy at the time of the funeral of a very holy priest. blood flowed from her forehead, and the cross on her breast bled also. someone asked her, 'what is the matter with you?' she smiled, and spoke like one awakening from a dream: 'we were by the side of the body. i have been accustomed lately to hear sacred music, and the de profundis made a great impression upon me.' she died upon the same day three years later. in , a few weeks before easter, she told us that it had been said to her during her prayer: 'take notice, you will suffer on the real anniversary of the passion, and not on the day marked this year in the ecclesiastical calendar.' on friday, the th of march, at ten o'clock in the morning, she sank down senseless. her face and bosom were bathed in blood, and her body appeared covered with bruises like what the blows of a whip would have inflicted. at twelve o'clock in the day, she stretched herself out in the form of a cross, and her arms were so extended as to be perfectly dislocated. a few minutes before two o'clock, drops of blood flowed from her feet and hands. on good friday, the th of april, she was simply in a state of quiet contemplation. this remarkable exception to the general rule seemed to be an effect of the providence of god, for, at the hour when her wounds usually bled, a number of curious and ill-natured individuals came to see her with the intention of causing her fresh annoyances, by publishing what they saw; but they thus were made unintentionally to contribute to her peace, by saying that her wounds had ceased to bleed. on the th of february she was again warned that she would suffer on the last friday of march, and not on good friday. on friday the th, and again on friday the th, the cross on her bosom and the wound of her side bled. before the th, she more than once felt as though a stream of fire were flowing rapidly from her heart to her side, and down her arms and legs to the stigmas, which looked red and inflamed. on the evening of thursday the th, she fell into a state of contemplation on the passion, and remained in it until friday evening. her chest, head, and side bled; all the veins of her hands were swollen, and there was a painful spot in the centre of them, which felt damp, although blood did not flow from it. no blood flowed from the stigmas excepting upon the rd of march, the day of the finding of the holy cross. she had also a vision of the discovery of the true cross by st. helena, and imagined herself to be lying in the excavation near the cross. much blood came in the morning from her head and side, and in the afternoon from her hands and feet, and it seemed to her as though she were being made the test of whether the cross was really the cross of jesus christ, and that her blood was testifying to its identity. in the year , on holy thursday and good friday, which came on the th and th of march, she had visions of the passion, during which blood flowed from all her wounds, causing her intense pain. amid these awful sufferings, although ravished in spirit, she was obliged to speak and give answers concerning all her little household affairs, as if she had been perfectly strong and well, and she never let fall a complaint, although nearly dying. this was the last time that her blood gave testimony to the reality of her union with the sufferings of him who has delivered himself up wholly and entirely for our salvation. most of the phenomena of the ecstatic life which are shown us in the lives and writings of saints bridget, gertrude, mechtilde, hildegarde, catherine of sienna, catherine of genoa, catherine of bologna, colomba da rieti, lidwina of schiedam, catherine vanini, teresa of jesus, anne of st. bartholomew, magdalen of pazzi, mary villana, mary buonomi, marina d' escobar, crescentia de kaufbeuern, and many other nuns of contemplative orders, are also to be found in the history of the interior life of anne catherine emmerich. the same path was marked out for her by god. did she, like these holy women, attain the end? god alone knows. our part is only to pray that such may have been the case, and we are allowed to hope it. those among our readers who are not acquainted with the ecstatic life from the writings of those who have lived it, will find information on this subject in the introduction of goerres to the writings of henry suso, published at ratisbonne in . since many pious christians, in order to render their life one perpetual act of adoration, endeavour to see in their daily employments a symbolical representation of some manner of honouring god, and offer it to him in union with the merits of christ, it cannot appear extraordinary that those holy souls who pass from an active life to one of suffering and contemplation, should sometimes see their spiritual labours under the form of those earthly occupations which formerly filled their days. then their acts were prayers; now their prayers are acts; but the form remains the same. it was thus that anne catherine, in her ecstatic life, beheld the series of her prayers for the church under the forms of parables bearing reference to agriculture, gardening, weaving, sowing, or the care of sheep. all these different occupations were arranged, according to their signification, in the different periods of the common as well as the ecclesiastical year, and were pursued under the patronage and with the assistance of the saints of each day, the special graces of the corresponding feasts of the church being also applied to them. the signification of this circles of symbols had reference to all the active part of her interior life. one example will help to explain our meaning. when anne catherine, while yet a child, was employed in weeding, she besought god to root up the cockle from the field of the church. if her hands were stung by the nettles, or if she was obliged to do afresh the work of idlers, she offered to god her pain and her fatigue, and besought him, in the name of jesus christ, that the pastor of souls might not become weary, and that none of them might cease to labour zealously and diligently. thus her manual labour became a prayer. i will now give a corresponding example of her life of contemplation and ecstasy. she had been ill several times, and in a state of almost continual ecstasy, during which she often moaned, and moved her hands like a person employed in weeding. she complained one morning that her hands and arms smarted and itched, and on examination they were found to be covered with blisters, like what would have been produced by the stinging of nettles. she then begged several persons of her acquaintance to join their prayers to hers for a certain intention. the next day her hands were inflamed and painful, as they would have been after hard work; and when asked the cause, she replied: 'ah! i have so many nettles to root up in the vineyard, because those whose duty it was to do it only pulled off the stems, and i was obliged to draw the roots with much difficulty out of a stony soil.' the person who had asked her the question began to blame these careless workmen, but he felt much confused when she replied: 'you were one of them,--those who only pull off the stems of the nettles, and leave the roots in the earth, are persons who pray carelessly.' it was afterwards discovered that she had been praying for several dioceses which were shown to her under the figure of vineyards laid waste, and in which labour was needed. the real inflammation of her hands bore testimony to this symbolical rooting up of the nettles; and we have, perhaps, reason to hope that the churches shown to her under the appearances of vineyards experienced the good effects of her prayer and spiritual labour; for since the door is opened to those who knock, it must certainly be opened above all to those who knock with such energy as to cause their fingers to be wounded. similar reactions of the spirit upon the body are often found in the lives of persons subject to ecstasies, and are by no means contrary to faith. st. paula, if we may believe st. jerome, visited the holy places in spirit just as if she had visited them bodily; and a like thing happened to st. colomba of rieti and st. lidwina of schiedam. the body of the latter bore tracks of this spiritual journey, as if she had really travelled; she experienced all the fatigue that a painful journey would cause: her feet were wounded and covered with marks which looked as if they had been made by stones or thorns, and finally she had a sprain from which she long suffered. she was led on this journey by her guardian angel, who told her that these corporeal wounds signified that she had been ravished in body and spirit. similar hurts were also to be seen upon the body of anne catherine immediately after some of her visions. lidwina began her ecstatic journey by following her good angel to the chapel of the blessed virgin before schiedam; anne catherine began hers by following her angel guardian either to the chapel which was near her dwelling, or else to the way of the cross of coesfeld. her journeys to the holy land were made, according to the accounts she gave of them, by the most opposite roads; sometimes even she went all round the earth, when the task spiritually imposed upon her required it. in the course of these journeys from her home to the most distant countries, she carried assistance to many persons, exercising in their regard works of mercy, both corporal and spiritual, and this was done frequently in parables. at the end of a year she would go over the same ground again, see the same persons, and give an account of their spiritual progress or of their relapse into sin. every part of this labour always bore some reference to the church, and to the kingdom of god upon earth. the end of these daily pilgrimages which she made in spirit was invariably the promised land, every part of which she examined in detail, and which she saw sometimes in its present state, and sometimes as it was at different periods of sacred history; for her distinguishing characteristic and special privilege was an intuitive knowledge of the history of the old and new testaments, and of that of the members of the holy family, and of all the saints whom she was contemplating in spirit. she saw the signification of all the festival days of the ecclesiastical year under both a devotional and a historical point of view. she saw and described, day by day, with the minutest detail, and by name, places, persons, festivals, customs, and miracles, all that happened during the public life of jesus until the ascension, and the history of the apostles for several weeks after the descent of the holy ghost. she regarded al her visions not as mere spiritual enjoyments, but as being, so to speak, fertile fields, plentifully strewn with the merits of christ, and which had not as yet been cultivated; she was often engaged in spirit in praying that the fruit of such and such sufferings of our lord might be given to the church, and she would beseech god to apply to his church the merits of our saviour which were its inheritance, and of which she would, as it were, take possession, in its name, with the most touching simplicity and ingenuousness. she never considered her visions to have any reference to her exterior christian life, nor did she regard them as being of any historical value. exteriorly she knew and believed nothing but the catechism, the common history of the bible, the gospels for sundays and festivals, and the christian almanac, which to her far-sighted vision was an inexhaustible mine of hidden riches, since it gave her in a few pages a guiding thread which led her through all time, and by means of which she passed from mystery to mystery, and solemnised each with all the saints, in order to reap the fruits of eternity in time, and to preserve and distribute them in her pilgrimage around the ecclesiastical year, that so the will of god might be accomplished on earth as it is in heaven. she had never read the old or the new testaments, and when she was tired of relating her visions, she would sometimes say: 'read that in the bible,' and then be astonished to learn that it was not there; 'for,' she would add, 'people are constantly saying in these days that you need read nothing but the bible, which contains everything, etc., etc.' the real task of her life was to suffer for the church and for some of its members, whose distress was shown her in spirit, or who asked her prayers without knowing that this poor sick nun had something more to do for them than to say the pater noster, but that all their spiritual and corporal sufferings became her own, and that she had to endure patiently the most terrible pains, without being assisted, like the contemplatives of former days, by the sympathising prayers of an entire community. in the age when she lived, she had no other assistance than that of medicine. while thus enduring sufferings which she had taken upon herself for others, she often turned her thoughts to the corresponding sufferings of the church, and when thus suffering for one single person, she would likewise offer all she endured for the whole church. the following is a remarkable instance of the sort: during several weeks she had every symptom of consumption; violent irritation of the lungs, excessive perspiration, which soaked her whole bed, a racking cough, continual expectoration, and a strong continual fever. so fearful were her sufferings that her death was hourly expected and even desired. it was remarked that she had to struggle strangely against a strong temptation to irritability. did she yield for an instant, she burst into tears, her sufferings increased tenfold, and she seemed unable to exist unless she immediately gained pardon in the sacrament of penance. she had also to combat a feeling of aversion to a certain person whom she had not seen for years. she was in despair because this person, with whom nevertheless she declared she had nothing in common, was always before her eyes in the most evil dispositions, and she wept bitterly, and with much anxiety of conscience, saying that she would not commit sin, that her grief must be evident to all, and other things which were quite unintelligible to the persons listening to her. her illness continued to increase, and she was thought to be on the point of death. at this moment one of her friends saw her, to his great surprise, suddenly raise herself up on her bed, and say: 'repeat with me the prayers for those in their last agony.' he did as requested, and she answered the litany in a firm voice. after some little time, the bell for the agonising was heard, and a person came in to ask anne catherine's prayers for his sister, who was just dead. anne catherine asked for details concerning her illness and death, as if deeply interested in the subject, and the friend above-mentioned heard the account given by the new comer of a consumption resembling in the minutest particulars the illness of anne catherine herself. the deceased woman had at first been in so much pain and so disturbed in mind that she had seemed quite unable to prepare herself for death; but during the last fortnight she had been better, had made her peace with god, having in the first place been reconciled to a person with whom she was at enmity, and had died in peace, fortified by the last sacraments, and attended by her former enemy. anne catherine gave a small sum of money for the burial and funeral-service of this person. her sweatings, cough, and fever now left her, and she resembled a person exhausted with fatigue, whose linen has been changed, and who has been placed on a fresh bed. her friend said to her, 'when this fearful illness came upon you, this woman grew better, and her hatred for another was the only obstacle to her making peace with god. you took upon yourself, for the time, her feelings of hatred, she died in good dispositions, and now you seem tolerably well again. are you still suffering on her account?' 'no, indeed!' she replied; 'that would be most unreasonable; but how can any person avoid suffering when even the end of this little finger is in pain? we are all one body in christ.' 'by the goodness of god,' said her friend, 'you are now once more somewhat at ease.' 'not for very long, though,' she replied with a smile; 'there are other persons who want my assistance.' then she turned round on her bed, and rested awhile. a very few days later, she began to feel intense pain in all her limbs, and symptoms of water on the chest manifested themselves. we discovered the sick person for whom anne catherine was suffering, and we saw that his sufferings suddenly diminished or immensely increased in exact inverse proportion to those of anne catherine. thus did charity compel her to take upon herself the illnesses and even the temptations of others, that they might be able in peace to prepare themselves for death. she was compelled to suffer in silence, both to conceal the weaknesses of her neighbour, and not to be regarded as mad herself; she was obliged to receive all the aid that medicine could afford her for an illness thus taken voluntarily for the relief of others, and to be reproached for temptations which were not her own; finally, it was necessary that she should appear perverted in the eyes of men; that so those for whom she was suffering might be converted before god. one day a friend in deep affliction was sitting by her bedside, when she suddenly fell into a state of ecstasy, and began to pray aloud: 'o, my sweet jesus, permit me to carry that heavy stone!' her friend asked her what was the matter. 'i am on my way to jerusalem,' she replied, 'and i see a poor man walking along with the greatest difficulty, for there is a large stone upon his breast, the weight of which nearly crushes him.' then again, after a few moments, she exclaimed: 'give me that heavy stone, you cannot carry it any farther; give it to me.' all on a sudden she sank down fainting, as if crushed beneath some heavy burden, and at the same moment her friend felt himself relieved from the weight of sorrow which oppressed him, and his heart overflowing with extraordinary happiness. seeing her in such a state of suffering, he asked her what the matter was, and she looking at him with a smile, replied: 'i cannot remain here any longer. poor man, you must take back your burden.' instantly her friend felt all the weight of his affliction return to him, whilst she, becoming as well again as before, continued her journey in spirit to jerusalem. we will give one more example of her spiritual exertions. one morning she gave her friend a little bag containing some rye-flour and eggs, and pointed out to him a small house where a poor woman, who was in a consumption, was living with her husband and two little children. he was to tell her to boil and take them, as when boiled they would be good for her chest. the friend, on entering the cottage, took the bag from under his cloak, when the poor mother, who, flushed with fever, was lying on a mattress between her half-naked children fixed her eyes bright upon him, and holding out her thin hands, exclaimed: 'o, sir, it must be god or sister emmerich who sends you to me! you are bringing me some ryeflour and eggs.' here the poor woman, overcome by her feelings, burst into tears, and then began to cough so violently that she had to make a sign to her husband to speak for her. he said that the previous night gertrude had been much disturbed, and had talked a great deal in her sleep, and that on awaking she had told him her dream in these words: 'i thought that i was standing at the door with you, when the holy nun came out of the door of the next house, and i told you to look at her. she stopped in front of us, and said to me: "ah, gertrude, you look very ill; i will send you some rye-flour and eggs, which will relieve your chest." then i awoke.' such was the simple tale of the poor man; he and his wife both eagerly expressed their gratitude, and the bearer of anne catherine's alms left the house much overcome. he did not tell her anything of this when he saw her, but a few days after, she sent him again to the same place with a similar present, and he then asked her how it was she knew that poor woman? 'you know,' she replied, 'that i pray every evening for all those who suffer; i should like to go and relieve them, and i generally dream that i am going from one abode of suffering to another, and that i assist them to the best of my power. in this way i went in my dream to that poor woman's house; she was standing at the door with her husband, and i said to her: "ah, gertrude, you look very ill; i will send you some rye-flour and eggs, which will relieve your chest." and this i did through you, the next morning.' both persons had remained in their beds, and dreamed the same thing, and the dream came true. st. augustine, in his city of god, book , c. , relates a similar thing of two philosophers, who visited each other in a dream, and explained some passages of plato, both remaining asleep in their own houses. these sufferings, and this peculiar species of active labour, were like a single ray of light, which enlightened her whole life. infinite was the number of spiritual labours and sympathetic sufferings which came from all parts and entered into her heart--that heart so burning with love of jesus christ. like st. catherine of sienna and some other ecstatics, she often felt the most profound feeling of conviction that our saviour had taken her heart out of her bosom, and placed his own there instead for a time. the following fragment will give some idea of the mysterious symbolism by which she was interiorly directed. during a portion of the year she performed many labours in spirit, for several different parishes; her prayers being represented under the figure of most severe labour in a vineyard. what we have above related concerning the nettles is of the same character. on the th of september her heavenly guide said to her: ' "you weeded, dug around, tied, and pruned the vine; you ground down the weeds so that they could never spring up anymore; and then you went away joyfully and rested from your prayers. prepare now to labour hard from the feast of the nativity of the blessed virgin to that of st. michael; the grapes are ripening and must be well watched." then he led me,' she continued, 'to the vineyard of st. liboire, and showed me the vines at which i had worked. my labour had been successful, for the grapes were getting their colour and growing large, and in some parts the red juice was running down on the ground from them. my guide said to me: "when the virtues of the good begin to shine forth in public, they have to combat bravely, to be oppressed, to be tempted, and to suffer persecution. a hedge must be planted around the vineyard in order that the ripe grapes may not be destroyed by thieves and wild beasts, i.e. by temptation and persecution." he then showed me how to build a wall by heaping up stones, and to raise a thick hedge of thorns all around. as my hands bled from such severe labour, god, in order to give me strength, permitted me to see the mysterious signification of the vine, and of several other fruit trees. jesus christ is the true vine, who is to take root and grow in us; all useless wood must be cut away, in order not to waste the sap, which is to become the wine, and in the most blessed sacrament the blood of christ. the pruning of the vine has to be done according to certain rules which were made known to me. this pruning is, in a spiritual sense, the cutting off whatever is useless, penance and mortification, that so the true vine may grow in us, and bring forth fruit, in the place of corrupt nature, which only bears wood and leaves. the pruning is done according to fixed rules, for it is only required that certain useless shoots should be cut off in man, and to lop off more would be to mutilate in a guilty manner. no pruning should ever be done upon the stock which has been planted in humankind through the blessed virgin, and is to remain in it for ever. the true vine unites heaven to earth, the divinity to humanity; and it is the human part that is to be pruned, that so the divine alone may grow. i saw so many other things relating to the vine that a book as large as the bible could not contain them. one day, when i was suffering acute pain in my chest, i besought our lord with groans not to give me a burthen above my strength to bear; and then my heavenly spouse appeared, and said to me, ... "i have laid thee on my nuptial couch, which is a couch of suffering; i have given thee suffering and expiation for thy bridal garments and jewels. thou must suffer, but i will not forsake thee; thou art fastened to the vine, and thou wilt not be lost." then i was consoled for all my sufferings. it was likewise explained to me why in my visions relating to the feasts of the family of jesus, such, for instance, as those of st. anne, st. joachim, st. joseph, etc., i always saw the church of the festival under the figure of a shoot of the vine. the same was the case on the festivals of st. francis of assisi, st. catherine of sienna, and of all the saints who have had the stigmas. 'the signification of my sufferings in all my limbs was explained to me in the following vision: i saw a gigantic human body in a horrible state of mutilation, and raised upwards towards the sky. there were no fingers or toes on the hands and feet, the body was covered with frightful wounds, some of which were fresh and bleeding, others covered with dead flesh or turned into excrescences. the whole of one side was black, gangrened, and as it were half eaten away. i suffered as though it had been my own body that was in this state, and then my guide said to me "this is the body of the church, the body of all men and thine also." then, pointing to each wound, he showed me at the same time some part of the world; i saw an infinite number of men and nations separated from the church, all in their own peculiar way, and i felt pain as exquisite from this separation as if they had been torn from my body. then my guide said to me: "let thy sufferings teach thee a lesson, and offer them to god in union with those of jesus for all who are separated. should not one member call upon another, and suffer in order to cure and unite it once more to the body? when those parts which are most closely united to the body detach themselves, it is as though the flesh were torn from around the heart." in my ignorance, i thought that he was speaking of those brethren who are not in communion with us, but my guide added: "who are our brethren? it is not our blood relations who are the nearest to our hearts, but those who are our brethren in the blood of christ--the children of the church who fall away." he showed me that the black and gangrened side of the body would soon be cured; that the putrefied flesh which had collected around the wounds represented heretics who divide one from the other in proportion as they increase; that the dead flesh was the figure of all who are spiritually dead, and who are void of any feeling; and that the ossified parts represented obstinate and hardened heretics. i saw and felt in this manner every wound and its signification. the body reached up to heaven. it was the body of the bride of christ, and most painful to behold. i wept bitterly, but feeling at once deeply grieved and strengthened by sorrow and compassion, i began again to labour with all my strength.' sinking beneath the weight of life and of the task imposed upon her she often besought god to deliver her, and she then would appear to be on the very brink of the grave. but each time she would say: 'lord, not my will but thine be done! if my prayers and sufferings are useful let me live a thousand years, but grant that i may die rather than ever offend thee.' then she would receive orders to live, and arise, taking up her cross, once more to bear it in patience and suffering after her lord. from time to time the road of life which she was pursuing used to be shown to her, leading to the top of a mountain on which was a shining and resplendent city--the heavenly jerusalem. often she would think she had arrived at that blissful abode, which seemed to be quite near her, and her joy would be great. but all on a sudden she would discover that she was still separated from it by a valley and then she would have to descend precipices and follow indirect paths, labouring, suffering, and performing deeds of charity everywhere. she had to direct wanderers into the right road, raise up the fallen, sometimes even carry the paralytic, and drag the unwilling by force, and all these deeds of charity were as so many fresh weights fastened to her cross. then she walked with more difficulty, bending beneath her burden and sometimes even falling to the ground. in she repeated more frequently than usual that she could not perform her task in her present situation, that she had not strength for it, and that it was in a peaceful convent that she needed to have lived and died. she added that god would soon take her to himself, and that she had besought him to permit her to obtain by her prayers in the next world what her weakness would not permit her to accomplish in this. st. catherine of sienna, a short time before death, made a similar prayer. anne catherine had previously had a vision concerning what her prayers might obtain after death, with regard to things that were not in existence during her life. the year , the last of which she completed the whole circle, brought her immense labours. she appeared desirous to accomplish her entire task, and thus kept the promise which she had previously made of relating the history of the whole passion. it formed the subject of her lenten meditations during this year, and of them the present volume is composed. but she did not on this account take less part in the fundamental mystery of this penitential season, or in the different mysteries of each of the festival days of the church, if indeed the words to take part be sufficient to express the wonderful manner in which she rendered visible testimony to the mystery celebrated in each festival by a sudden change in her corporal and spiritual life. see on this subject the chapter entitled interruption of the pictures of the passion. everyone of the ceremonies and festivals of the church was to her far more than the consecration of a remembrance. she beheld in the historical foundation of each solemnity an act of the almighty, done in time for the reparation of fallen humanity. although these divine acts appeared to her stamped with the character of eternity, yet she was well aware that in order for man to profit by them in the bounded and narrow sphere of time, he must, as it were, take possession of them in a series of successive moments, and that for this purpose they had to be repeated and renewed in the church, in the order established by jesus christ and the holy spirit. all festivals and solemnities were in her eyes eternal graces which returned at fixed epochs in every ecclesiastical year, in the same manner as the fruits and harvests of the earth come in their seasons in the natural year. her zeal and gratitude in receiving and treasuring up these graces were untiring, nor was she less eager and zealous in offering them to those who neglected their value. in the same manner as her compassion for her crucified saviour had pleased god and obtained for her the privilege of being marked with the stigmas of the passion as with a seal of the most perfect love, so all the sufferings of the church and of those who were in affliction were repeated in the different states of her body and soul. and all these wonders took place within her, unknown to those who were around her; nor was she herself even more fully conscious of them than is the bee of the effects of its work, while yet she was tending and cultivating, with all the care of an industrious and faithful gardener, the fertile garden of the ecclesiastical year. she lived on its fruits, and distributed them to others; she strengthened herself and her friends with the flowers and herbs which she cultivated; or, rather, she herself was in this garden like a sensitive plant, a sunflower, or some wonderful plant in which, independent of her own will, were reproduced all the seasons of the year, all the hours of the day, and all the changes of the atmosphere. at the end of the ecclesiastical year of , she had for the last time a vision on the subject of making up the accounts of that year. the negligences of the church militant and of her servants were shown to anne catherine, under various symbols; she saw how many graces had not been cooperated with, or been rejected to a greater or less extent, and how many had been entirely thrown away. it was made known to her how our blessed redeemer had deposited for each year in the garden of the church a complete treasure of his merits, sufficient for every requirement, and for the expiation of every sin. the strictest account was to be given of all graces which had been neglected, wasted, or wholly rejected, and the church militant was punished for this negligence of infidelity of her servants by being oppressed by her enemies, or by temporal humiliations. revelations of this description raised to excess her love for the church, her mother. she passed days and nights in praying for her, in offering to god the merits of christ, with continual groans, and in imploring mercy. finally, on these occasions, she gathered together all her courage, and offered to take upon herself both the fault and the punishment, like a child presenting itself before the king's throne, in order to suffer the punishment she had incurred. it was then said to her, 'see how wretched and miserable thou art thyself; thou who art desirous to satisfy for the sins of others.' and to her great terror she beheld herself as one mournful mass of infinite imperfection. but still her love remained undaunted, and burst forth in these words, 'yes, i am full of misery and sin; but i am thy spouse, o my lord, and my saviour! my faith in thee and in the redemption which thou hast brought us covers all my sins as with thy royal mantle. i will not leave thee until thou hast accepted my sacrifice, for the superabundant treasure of thy merits is closed to none of thy faithful servants.' at length her prayer became wonderfully energetic, and to human ears there was like a dispute and combat with god, in which she was carried away and urged on by the violence of love. if her sacrifice was accepted, her energy seemed to abandon her, and she was left to the repugnance of human nature for suffering. when she had gone through this trial, by keeping her eyes fixed on her redeemer in the garden of olives, she next had to endure indescribable sufferings of every description, bearing them all with wonderful patience and sweetness. we used to see her remain several days together, motionless and insensible, looking like a dying lamb. did we ask her how she was, she would half open her eyes, and reply with a sweet smile, 'my sufferings are most salutary.' at the beginning of advent, her sufferings were a little soothed by sweet visions of the preparations made by the blessed virgin to leave her home, and then of her whole journey with st. joseph to bethlehem. she accompanied them each day to the humble inns where they rested for the night, or went on before them to prepare their lodgings. during this time she used to take old pieces of linen, and at night, while sleeping, make them into baby clothes and caps for the children of poor women, the times of whose confinements were near at hand. the next day she would be surprised to see all these things neatly arranged in her drawers. this happened to her every year about the same time, but this year she had more fatigue and less consolation. thus, at the hour of our saviour's birth, when she was usually perfectly overwhelmed with joy, she could only crawl with the greatest difficulty to the crib where the child jesus was lying, and bring him no present but myrrh, no offering but her cross, beneath the weight of which she sank down half dying at his feet. it seemed as though she were for the last time making up her earthly accounts with god, and for the last time also offering herself in the place of a countless number of men who were spiritually and corporally afflicted. even the little that is known of the manner in which she took upon herself the sufferings of others is almost incomprehensible. she very truly said: 'this year the child jesus has only brought me a cross and instruments of suffering.' she became each day more and more absorbed in her sufferings, and although she continued to see jesus travelling from city to city during his public life, the utmost she ever said on the subject was, briefly to name in which direction he was going. once, she asked suddenly in a scarcely audible voice, 'what day is it?' when told that it was the th of january, she added: 'had i but a few days more, i should have related the entire life of our saviour, but now it is no longer possible for me to do so.' these words were the more incomprehensible as she did not appear to know even which year of the public life of jesus she was then contemplating in spirit. in she had related the history of our saviour down to the ascension, beginning at the th of july of the third year of the public life of jesus, and had continued down to the th of january of the third year of his public life. on the th of april , in consequence of a journey made by the writer, an interruption of her narrative took place, and lasted down to the st of october. she then took up the tread of her narrative where she had left it, and continued it to the last weeks of her life. when she spoke of a few days being wanted her friend himself did not know how far her narrative went, not having had leisure to arrange what he had written. after her death he became convinced that if she had been able to speak during the last fourteen days of her life, she would have brought it down to the th of july of the third year of the public life of our lord, consequently to where she had taken it up in . her condition daily became more frightful. she, who usually suffered in silence, uttered stifled groans, so awful was the anguish she endured. on the th of january she said: 'the child jesus brought me great sufferings at christmas. i was once more by his manger at bethlehem. he was burning with fever, and showed me his sufferings and those of his mother. they were so poor that they had no food but a wretched piece of bread. he bestowed still greatest sufferings upon me, and said to me: "thou art mine; thou art my spouse; suffer as i suffered, without asking the reason why." i do not know what my sufferings are to be, nor how long they will last. i submit blindly to my martyrdom, whether for life or for death: i only desire that the hidden designs of god may be accomplished in me. on the other hand, i am calm, and i have consolations in my sufferings. even this morning i was very happy. blessed be the name of god!' her sufferings continued, if possible, to increase. sitting up, and with her eyes closed, she fell from one side to another, while smothered groans escaped her lips. if she laid down, she was in danger of being stifled; her breathing was hurried and oppressed, and all her nerves and muscles were shaken and trembled with anguish. after violent retching, she suffered terrible pain in her bowels, so much so that it was feared gangrene must be forming there. her throat was parched and burning, her mouth swollen, her cheeks crimson with fever, her hands white as ivory. the scars of the stigmas shone like silver beneath her distended skin. her pulse gave from to pulsations per minute. although unable to speak from her excessive suffering, she bore every duty perfectly in mind. on the evening of the th, she said to her friend, 'today is the ninth day, you must pay for the wax taper and novena at the chapel of st. anne.' she was alluding to a novena which she had asked to have made for her intention, and she was afraid lest her friends should forget it. on the th, at two o'clock in the afternoon, she received extreme unction, greatly to the relief both of her soul and body. in the evening her friend, the excellent cure of h___, prayed at her bedside, which was an immense comfort to her. she said to him: 'how good and beautiful all this is!' and again: 'may god be a thousand times praised and thanked!' the approach of death did not wholly interrupt the wonderful union of her life with that of the church. a friend having visited her on the st of february in the evening, had placed himself behind her bed where she could not see him, and was listening with the utmost compassion to her low moans and interrupted breathing, when suddenly all became silent, and he thought that she was dead. at this moment the evening bell ringing for the matins of the purification was heard. it was the opening of this festival which had caused her soul to be ravished in ecstasy. although still in a very alarming state, she let some sweet and loving words concerning the blessed virgin escape her lips during the night and day of the festival. towards twelve o'clock in the day, she said in a voice already changed by the near approach of death, 'it was long since i had felt so well. i have been ill quite a week, have i not? i feel as though i knew nothing about this world of darkness! o, what light the blessed mother of god showed me! she took me with her, and how willingly would i have remained with her!' here she recollected herself for a moment, and then said, placing her finger on her lip: 'but i must not speak of these things.' from that time she said that the slightest word in her praise greatly increased her sufferings. the following days she was worse. on the th, in the evening, being rather more calm, she said: 'ah, my sweet lord jesus, thanks be to thee again and again for every part of my life. lord, thy will and not mine be done.' on the th of february, in the evening, a priest was praying near her bed, when she gratefully kissed his hand, begged him to assist at her death and said, 'o jesus, i live for thee, i die for thee. o lord, praise be to thy holy name, i no longer see or hear!' her friends wished to change her position, and thus ease her pain a little; but she said, 'i am on the cross, it will soon all be over, leave me in peace.' she had received all the last sacraments, but she wished to accuse herself once more in confession of a slight fault which she had already many times confessed; it was probably of the same nature as a sin which she had committed in her childhood, of which she often accused herself, and which consisted in having gone through a hedge into a neighbour's garden, and coveted some apples which had fallen on the ground. she had only looked at them; for, thank god, she said, she did not touch them, but she thought that was a sin against the tenth commandment. the priest gave her a general absolution; after which she stretched herself out, and those around her thought that she was dying. a person who had often given her pain now drew near her bed and asked her pardon. she looked at him in surprise, and said with the most expressive accent of truth, 'i have nothing to forgive any living creature.' during the last days of her life, when her death was momentarily expected, several of her friends remained constantly in the room adjoining hers. they were speaking in a low tone, and so that she could not hear them, of her patience, faith, and other virtues, when all on a sudden they heard her dying voice saying: 'ah, for the love of god, do not praise me--that keeps me here, because i then have to suffer double. o my god! how many fresh flowers are falling upon me!' she always saw flowers as the forerunners and figures of sufferings. then she rejected all praises, with the most profound conviction of her own unworthiness, saying: 'god alone is good: everything must be paid, down to the last farthing. i am poor and loaded with sin, and i can only make up for having been praised by sufferings united to those of jesus christ. do not praise me, but let me die in ignominy with jesus on the cross.' boudon, in his life of father surin, relates a similar trait of a dying man, who had been thought to have lost the sense of hearing, but who energetically rejected a word of praise pronounced by those who were surrounding his bed. a few hours before death, for which she was longing, saying, 'o lord assist me; come, o lord jesus!' a word of praise appeared to detain her, and she most energetically rejected it by making the following act of humility: 'i cannot die if so many good persons think well of me through a mistake; i beg of you to tell them all that i am a wretched sinner! would that i could proclaim so as to be heard by all men, how great a sinner i am! i am far beneath the good thief who was crucified by the side of jesus, for he and all his contemporaries had not so terrible an account as we shall have to render of all the graces which have been bestowed upon the church.' after this declaration, she appeared to grow calm, and she said to the priest who was comforting her: 'i feel now as peaceful and as much filled with hope and confidence as if i had never committed a sin.' her eyes turned lovingly towards the cross which was placed at the foot of her bed, her breathing became accelerated, she often drank some liquid; and when the little crucifix was held to her, she from humility only kissed the feet. a friend who was kneeling by her bedside in tears, had the comfort of often holding her the water with which to moisten her lips. as he had laid her hand, on which the white scar of the wound was most distinctly visible, on the counterpane, he took hold of that hand, which was already cold, and as he inwardly wished for some mark of farewell from her, she slightly pressed his. her face was calm and serene, bearing an expression of heavenly gravity, and which can only be compared to that of a valiant wrestler, who after making unheard of efforts to gain the victory, sinks back and dies in the very act of seizing the prize. the priest again read through the prayers for persons in their last agony, and she then felt an inward inspiration to pray for a pious young friend whose feast day it was. eight o'clock struck; she breathed more freely for the space of a few minutes, and then cried three times with a deep groan: 'o lord, assist me: lord, lord, come!' the priest rang his bell, and said, 'she is dying.' several relations and friends who were in the next room came in and knelt down to pray. she was then holding in her hand a lighted taper, which the priest was supporting. she breathed forth several slight sighs, and then her pure soul escaped her chaste lips, and hastened, clothed in the nuptial garment, to appear in heavenly hope before the divine bridegroom, and be united for ever to that blessed company of virgins who follow the lamb whithersoever he goeth. her lifeless body sank gently back on the pillows at halfpast eight o'clock p.m., on the th february . a person who had taken great interest in her during life wrote as follows: 'after her death, i drew near to her bed. she was supported by pillows, and lying on her left side. some crutches, which had been prepared for her by her friends on one occasion when she had been able to take a few turns in the room, were hanging over her head, crossed, in a corner. near them hung a little oil painting representing the death of the blessed virgin, which had been given her by the princess of salm. the expression of her countenance was perfectly sublime, and bore the traces of the spirit of self-sacrifice, the patience and resignation of her whole life; she looked as though she had died for the love of jesus, in the very act of performing some work of charity for others. her right hand was resting on the counterpane--that hand on which god had bestowed the unparalleled favour of being able at once to recognise by the touch anything that was holy, or that had been consecrated by the church--a favour which perhaps no one had ever before enjoyed to so great an extent--a favour by which the interests of religion might be inconceivably promoted, provided it was made use of with discretion, and which surely had not been bestowed upon a poor ignorant peasant girl merely for her own personal gratification. for the last time i took in mine the hand marked with a sign so worthy of our utmost veneration, the hand which was as a spiritual instrument in the instant recognition of whatever was holy, that it might be honoured even in a grain of sand--the charitable industrious hand, which had so often fed the hungry and clothed the naked--this hand was now cold and lifeless. a great favour had been withdrawn from earth, god had taken from us the hand of his spouse, who had rendered testimony to, prayed, and suffered for the truth. it appeared as though it had not been without meaning, that she had resignedly laid down upon her bed the hand which was the outward expression of a particular privilege granted by divine grace. fearful of having the strong impression made upon me by the sight of her countenance diminished by the necessary but disturbing preparations which were being made around her bed, i thoughtfully left her room. if, i said to myself--if, like so many holy solitaries, she had died alone in a grave prepared by her own hands, her friends--the birds--would have covered her with flowers and leaves; if, like other religious, she had died among virgins consecrated to god, and that their tender care and respectful veneration had followed her to the grave, as was the case, for example, with st. colomba of rieti, it would have been edifying and pleasing to those who loved her; but doubtless such honours rendered to her lifeless remains would not have been conformable to her love for jesus, whom she so much desired to resemble in death as in life.' the same friend later wrote as follows: 'unfortunately there was no official post-mortem examination of her body, and none of those inquiries by which she had been so tormented during life were instituted after her death. the friends who surrounded her neglected to examine her body, probably for fear of coming upon some striking phenomenon, the discovery of which might have caused much annoyance in various ways. on wednesday the th of february her body was prepared for burial. a pious female, who would not give up to anyone the task of rendering her this last mark of affection, described to me as follows the condition in which she found her: "her feet were crossed like the feet of a crucifix. the places of the stigmas were more red than usual. when we raised her head blood flowed from her nose and mouth. all her limbs remained flexible and with none of the stiffness of death even till the coffin was closed." on friday the th of february she was taken to the grave, followed by the entire population of the place. she reposes in the cemetery, to the left of the cross, on the side nearest the hedge. in the grave in front of hers there rests a good old peasant of welde, and in the grave behind a poor but virtuous female from dernekamp. on the evening of the day when she was buried, a rich man went, not to pilate, but to the cure of the place. he asked for the body of anne catherine, not to place it in a new sepulchre, but to buy it at a high price for a dutch doctor. the proposal was rejected as it deserved, but it appears that the report was spread in the little town that the body had been taken away, and it is said that the people went in great numbers to the cemetery to ascertain whether the grave had been robbed.' to these details we will add the following extract from an account printed in december , in the journal of catholic literature of kerz. this account was written by a person with whom we are unacquainted, but who appears to have been well informed: 'about six or seven weeks after the death of anne catherine emmerich, a report having got about that her body had been stolen away, the grave and coffin were opened in secret, by order of the authorities, in the presence of seven witnesses. they found with surprise not unmixed with joy that corruption had not yet begun its work on the body of the pious maiden. her features and countenance were smiling like those of a person who is dreaming sweetly. she looked as though she had but just been placed in the coffin, nor did her body exhale any corpse-like smell. it is good to keep the secret of the king, says jesus the son of sirach; but it is also good to reveal to the world the greatness of the mercy of god.' we have been told that a stone has been placed over her grave. we lay upon it these pages; may they contribute to immortalise the memory of a person who has relieved so many pains of soul and body, and that of the spot where her mortal remains lie awaiting the day of resurrection. to the reader whoever compares the following meditations with the short history of the last supper given in the gospel will discover some slight differences between them. an explanation should be given of this, although it can never be sufficiently impressed upon the reader that these writings have no pretensions whatever to add an iota to sacred scripture as interpreted by the church. sister emmerich saw the events of the last supper take place in the following order:--the paschal lamb was immolated and prepared in the supper-room; our lord held a discourse on that occasion--the guests were dressed as travellers, and ate, standing, the lamb and other food prescribed by the law--the cup of wine was twice presented to our lord, but he did not drink of it the second time; distributing it to his apostles with these words: i shall drink no more of the fruit of the vine, etc. then they sat down; jesus spoke of the traitor; peter feared lest it should be himself; judas received from our lord the piece of bread dipped, which was the sign that it was he; preparations were made for the washing of the feet; peter strove against his feet being washed; then came the institution of the holy eucharist: judas communicated, and afterwards left the apartment; the oils were consecrated, and instructions given concerning them; peter and the other apostles received ordination; our lord made his final discourse; peter protested that he would never abandon him; and then the supper concluded. by adopting this order, it appears, at first, as though it were in contradiction to the passages of st. matthew ( : ), and of st. mark ( : ), in which the words: i will drink no more of the fruit of the vine, etc., come after the consecration, but in st. luke, they come before. on the contrary, all that concerns the traitor judas comes here, as in st. matthew and st. mark, before the consecration; whereas in st. luke, it does not come till afterwards. st. john, who does not relate the history of the institution of the holy eucharist, gives us to understand that judas went out immediately after jesus had given him the bread; but it appears most probable, from the accounts of the other evangelists, that judas received the holy communion under both forms, and several of the fathers--st. augustine, st. gregory the great, and st. leo the great--as well as the tradition of the catholic church, tell us expressly that such was the case. besides, were the order in which st. john presents events taken literally, he would contradict, not only st. matthew and st. mark, but himself, for it must follow, from verse , chap. , that judas also had his feet washed. now, the washing of the feet took place after the eating of the paschal lamb, and it was necessarily whilst it was being eaten that jesus presented the bread to the traitor. it is plain that the evangelists here, as in several other parts of their writings, gave their attention to the sacred narrative as a whole, and did not consider themselves bound to relate every detail in precisely the same order, which fully explains the apparent contradictions of each other, which are to be found in their gospels. the following pages will appear to the attentive reader rather a simple and natural concordance of the gospels than a history differing in any point of the slightest importance from that of scripture. meditation i. preparations for the pasch holy thursday, the th nisan ( th of march). yesterday evening it was that the last great public repast of our lord and his friends took place in the house of simon the leper, at bethania, and mary magdalen for the last time anointed the feet of jesus with precious ointment. judas was scandalised upon this occasion, and hastened forthwith to jerusalem again to conspire with the high-priests for the betrayal of jesus into their hands. after the repast, jesus returned to the house of lazarus, and some of the apostles went to the inn situated beyond bethania. during the night nicodemus again came to lazarus' house, had a long conversation with our lord, and returned before daylight to jerusalem, being accompanied part of the way by lazarus. the disciples had already asked jesus where he would eat the pasch. to-day, before dawn, our lord sent for peter, james, and john, spoke to them at some length concerning all they had to prepare and order at jerusalem, and told them that when ascending mount sion, they would meet the man carrying a pitcher of water. they were already well acquainted with this man, for at the last pasch, at bethania, it had been he who prepared the meal for jesus, and this is why st. matthew says: a certain man. they were to follow him home, and say to him: the master saith, my time is near at hand, with thee i make the pasch with my disciples (matt. : ). they were than to be shown the supper-room, and make all necessary preparations. i saw the apostles ascending towards jerusalem, along a ravine, to the south of the temple, and in the direction of the north side of sion. on the southern side of the mountain on which the temple stood, there were some rows of houses; and they walked opposite these houses, following the stream of an intervening torrent. when they had reached the summit of mount sion, which is higher than the mountain of the temple, they turned their steps towards the south, and, just at the beginning of a small ascent, met the man who had been named to them; they followed and spoke to him as jesus had commanded. he was much gratified by their words, and answered, that a supper had already been ordered to be prepared at his house (probably by nicodemus), but that he had not been aware for whom, and was delighted to learn that it was for jesus. this man's name was heli, and he was the brother-in-law of zachary of hebron, in whose house jesus had in the preceding year announced the death of john the baptist. he had only one son, who was a levite, and a friend of st. luke, before the latter was called by our lord, and five daughters, all of whom were unmarried. he went up every year with his servants for the festival of the pasch, hired a room and prepared the pasch for persons who had no friend in the town to lodge with. this year he had hired a supper-room which belonged to nicodemus and joseph of arimathea. he showed the two apostles its position and interior arrangement. meditation ii. the supper-room. on the southern side of mount sion, not far from the ruined castle of david, and the market held on the ascent leading to that castle, there stood, towards the east, an ancient and solid building, between rows of thick trees, in the midst of a spacious court surrounded by strong walls. to the right and left of the entrance, other buildings were to be seen adjoining the wall, particularly to the right, where stood the dwelling of the major-domo, and close to it the house in which the blessed virgin and the holy women spent most of their time after the death of jesus. the supper-room, which was originally larger, had formerly been inhabited by david's brave captains, who had there learned the use of arms. previous to the building of the temple, the ark of the covenant had been deposited there for a considerable length of time, and traces of its presence were still to be found in an underground room. i have also seen the prophet malachy hidden beneath this same roof: he there wrote his prophecies concerning the blessed sacrament and the sacrifice of the new law. solomon held this house in honour, and performed within its walls some figurative and symbolical action, which i have forgotten. when a great part of jerusalem was destroyed by the babylonians, this house was spared. i have seen many other things concerning this same house, but i only remember what i have now told. this building was in a very dilapidated state when it became the property of nicodemus and joseph of arimathea, who arranged the principal building in a very suitable manner, and let it as a supper-room to strangers coming to jerusalem for the purpose of celebrating the festival of the pasch. thus it was that our lord had made use of it the previous year. moreover, the house and surrounding buildings served as warehouses for monuments and other stones, and as workshops for the labourers; for joseph of arimathea possessed valuable quarries in his own country, from which he had large blocks of stone brought, that his workmen might fashion them, under his own eye, into tombs, architectural ornaments, and columns, for sale. nicodemus had a share in this business, and used to spend many leisure hours himself in sculpturing. he worked in the room, or in a subterraneous apartment which saw beneath it, excepting at the times of the festivals; and this occupation having brought him into connection with joseph of arimathea, they had become friends, and often joined together in various transactions. this morning, whilst peter and john were conversing with the man who had hired the supper-room, i saw nicodemus in the buildings to the left of the court, where a great many stones which filled up the passages leading to the supper-room had been placed. a week before, i had seen several persons engaged in putting the stones on one side, cleaning the court, and preparing the supper-room for the celebration of the pasch; it even appears to me that there were among them some disciples of our lord, perhaps aram and themein, the cousins of joseph of arimathea. the supper-room, properly so called, was nearly in the centre of the court; its length was greater than its width; it was surrounded by a row of low pillars, and if the spaces between the pillars had been cleared, would have formed a part of the large inner room, for the whole edifice was, as it were, transparent; only it was usual, except on special occasions, for the passages to be closed up. the room was lighted by apertures at the top of the walls. in front, there was first a vestibule, into which three doors gave entrance; next, the large inner room, where several lamps hung from the platform; the walls were ornamented for the festival, half way up, with beautiful matting or tapestry, and an aperture had been made in the roof, and covered over with transparent blue gauze. the back part of this room was separated from the rest by a curtain, also of blue transparent gauze. this division of the supper-room into three parts gave a resemblance to the temple--thus forming the outer court, the holy, and the holy of holies. in the last of these divisions, on both sides, the dresses and other things necessary for the celebration of the feast were placed. in the centre there was a species of altar. a stone bench raised on three steps, and of a rectangular triangular shape, came out of the wall; it must have constituted the upper part of the oven used for roasting the paschal lamb, for to-day the steps were quite heated during the repast. i cannot describe in detail all that there was in this part of the room, but all kinds of arrangements were being made there for preparing the paschal supper. above this hearth of altar, there was a species of niche in the wall, in front of which i saw an image of the paschal lamb, with a knife in its throat, and the blood appearing to flow drop by drop upon the altar; but i do not remember distinctly how that was done. in a niche in the wall there were three cupboards of various colours, which turned like our tabernacles, for opening or closing. a number of vessels used in the celebration of the pasch were kept in them; later, the blessed sacrament was placed there. in the rooms at the sides of the supper-room, there were some couches, on which thick coverlids rolled up were placed, and which could be used as beds. there were spacious cellars beneath the whole of this building. the ark of the covenant was formerly deposited under the very spot where the hearth was afterwards built. five gutters, under the house, served to convey the refuse to the slope of the hill, on the upper part of which the house was built. i had preciously seen jesus preach and perform miraculous cures there, and the disciples frequently passed the night in the side rooms. meditation iii. arrangements for eating the paschal lamb. when the disciples had spoken to heli of hebron, the latter went back into the house by the court, but they turned to the right, and hastened down the north side of the hill, through sion. they passed over a bridge, and walking along a road covered with brambles, reached the other side of the ravine, which was in front of the temple, and of the row of houses which were to the south of that building. there stood the house of the aged simeon, who died in the temple after the presentation of our lord; and his sons, some of whom were disciples of jesus in secret, were actually living there. the apostles spoke to one of them, a tall dark-complexioned man, who held some office in the temple. they went with him to the eastern side of the temple, through that part of ophel by which jesus made his entry into jerusalem on palm-sunday, and thence to the cattle-market, which stood in the town, to the north of the temple. in the southern part of this market i saw little enclosures in which some beautiful lambs were gambolling about. here it was that lambs for the pasch were bought. i saw the son of simeon enter one of these enclosures; and the lambs gambolled round him as if they knew him. he chose out four, which were carried to the supper-room, engaged in preparing the paschal lamb. i saw peter and john go to several different parts of the town, and order various things. i saw them also standing opposite the door of a house situated to the north of mount calvary, where the disciples of jesus lodged the greatest part of the time, and which belonged to seraphia (afterwards called veronica). peter and john sent some disciples from thence to the supper-room, giving them several commissions, which i have forgotten. they also went into seraphia's house, where they had several arrangements to make. her husband, who was a member of the council, was usually absent and engaged in business; but even when he was at home she saw little of him. she was a woman of about the age of the blessed virgin, and had long been connected with the holy family; for when the child jesus remained the three days in jerusalem after the feast, she it was who supplied him with food. the two apostles took from thence, among other things, the chalice of which our lord made use in the institution of the holy eucharist. meditation iv. the chalice used at the last supper the chalice which the apostles brought from veronica's house was wonderful and mysterious in its appearance. it had been kept a long time in the temple among other precious objects of great antiquity, the use and origin of which had been forgotten. the same has been in some degree the case in the christian church, where many consecrated jewels have been forgotten and fallen into disuse with time. ancient vases and jewels, buried beneath the temple, had often been dug up, sold, or reset. thus it was that, by god's permission, this holy vessel, which none had ever been able to melt down on account of its being made of some unknown material, and which had been found by the priests in the treasury of the temple among other objects no longer made use of, had been sold to some antiquaries. it was bought by seraphia, was several times made use of by jesus in the celebration of festivals, and, from the day of the last supper, became the exclusive property of the holy christian community. this vessel was not always the same as when used by our lord at his last supper, and perhaps it was upon that occasion that the various pieces which composed it were first put together. the great chalice stood upon a plate, out of which a species of tablet could also be drawn, and around it there were six little glasses. the great chalice contained another smaller vase; above it there was a small plate, and then came a round cover. a spoon was inserted in the foot of the chalice, and could be easily drawn out for use. all these different vessels were covered with fine linen, and, if i am not mistaken, were wrapped up in a case made of leather. the great chalice was composed of the cup and of the foot, which last must have been joined on to it at a later period, for it was of a different material. the cup was pear-shaped, massive, dark-coloured, and highly polished, with gold ornaments, and two small handles by which it could be lifted. the foot was of virgin gold, elaborately worked, ornamented with a serpent and a small bunch of grapes, and enriched with precious stones. the chalice was left in the church of jerusalem, in the hand of st. james the less; and i see that it is still preserved in that town--it will reappear some day, in the same manner as before. other churches took the little cups which surrounded it; one was taken to antioch, and another to ephesus. they belonged to the patriarchs, who drank some mysterious beverage out of them when they received or gave a benediction, as i have seen many times. the great chalice had formerly been in the possession of abraham; melchisedech brought it with him from the land of semiramis to the land of canaan, when he was beginning to found some settlements on the spot where jerusalem was afterwards built; he made use of it then for offering sacrifice, when he offered bread and wine in the presence of abraham, and he left it in the possession of that holy patriarch. this same chalice had also been preserved in noah's ark. meditation v. jesus goes up to jerusalem. in the morning, while the apostles were engaged at jerusalem in preparing for the pasch, jesus, who had remained at bethania, took an affecting leave of the holy women, of lazarus, and of his blessed mother, and gave them some final instructions. i saw our lord conversing apart with his mother, and he told her, among other things, that he had sent peter, the apostle of faith, and john, the apostle of love, to prepare for the pasch at jerusalem. he said, in speaking of magdalen, whose grief was excessive, that her love was great, but still somewhat human, and that on this account her sorrow made her beside herself. he spoke also of the schemes of the traitor judas, and the blessed virgin prayed for him. judas had again left bethania to go to jerusalem, under pretence of paying some debts that were due. he spent his whole day in hurrying backwards and forwards from one pharisee to another, and making his final agreements with them. he was shown the soldiers who had been engaged to seize the person of our divine saviour, and he so arranged his journeys to and fro as to be able to account for his absence. i beheld all his wicked schemes and all his thoughts. he was naturally active and obliging, but these good qualities were choked by avarice, ambition, and envy, which passions he made no effort to control. in our lord's absence he had even performed miracles and healed the sick. when our lord announced to his blessed mother what was going to take place, she besought him, in the most touching terms, to let her die with him. but he exhorted her to show more calmness in her sorrow than the other women, told her that he should rise again, and named the very spot where he should appear to her. she did not weep much, but her grief was indescribable, and there was something almost awful in her look of deep recollection. our divine lord returned thanks, as a loving son, for all the love she had borne him, and pressed her to his heart. he also told her that he would make the last supper with her, spiritually, and named the hour at which she would receive his precious body and blood. then once more he, in touching language, bade farewell to all, and gave them different instructions. about twelve o'clock in the day, jesus and the nine apostles went from bethania up to jerusalem, followed by seven disciples, who, with the exception of nathaniel and silas, came from jerusalem and the neighbourhood. among these were john, mark, and the son of the poor widow who, the thursday previous, had offered her mite in the temple, whilst jesus was preaching there. jesus had taken him into his company a few days before. the holy women set off later. jesus and his companions walked around mount olivet, about the valley of josaphat, and even as far as mount calvary. during the whole of this walk, he continued giving them instructions. he told the apostles, among other things, that until then he had given them his bread and his wine, but that this day he was going to give them his body and blood, his whole self--all that he had and all that he was. the countenance of our lord bore so touching an expression whilst he was speaking, that his whole soul seemed to breathe forth from his lips, and he appeared to be languishing with love and desire for the moment when he should give himself to man. his disciples did not understand him, but thought that he was speaking of the paschal lamb. no words can give an adequate idea of the love and resignation which were expressed in these last discourses of our lord at bethania, and on his way to jerusalem. the seven disciples who had followed our lord to jerusalem did not go there in his company, but carried the ceremonial habits for the pasch to the supper-room, and then returned to the house of mary, the mother of mark. when peter and john came to the supper-room with the chalice, all the ceremonial habits were already in the vestibule, whither they had been brought by his disciples and some companions. they had also hung the walls with drapery, cleared the higher openings in the sides, and put up three lamps. peter and john then went to the valley of josaphat, and summoned our lord and the twelve apostles. the disciples and friends who were also to make their pasch in the supperroom, came later. meditation vi. the last pasch. jesus and his disciples ate the paschal lamb in the supper-room. they divided into three groups. jesus ate the paschal lamb with the twelve apostles in the supper-room, properly so called; nathaniel with twelve other disciples in one of the lateral rooms, and eliacim (the son of cleophas and mary, the daughter of heli), who had been a disciple of john the baptist, with twelve more, in another side-room. three lambs were immolated for them in the temple, but there was a fourth lamb which was immolated in the supper-room, and was the one eaten by jesus with his apostles. judas was not aware of this circumstance, because being engaged in plotting his betrayal of our lord, he only returned a few moments before the repast, and after the immolation of the lamb had taken place. most touching was the scene of the immolation of the lamb to be eaten by jesus and his apostles; it took place in the vestibule of the supper-room. the apostles and disciples were present, singing the th psalm. jesus spoke of a new period then beginning, and said that the sacrifice of moses and the figure of the paschal lamb were about to receive their accomplishment, but that on this very account, the lamb was to be immolated in the same manner as formerly in egypt, and that they were really about to go forth from the house of bondage. the vessels and necessary instruments were prepared, and then the attendants brought a beautiful little lamb, decorated with a crown, which was sent to the blessed virgin in the room where she had remained with the other holy women. the lamb was fastened with its back against a board by a cord around its body, and reminded me of jesus tied to the pillar and scourged. the son of simeon held the lamb's head; jesus made a slight incision in its neck with the point of a knife, which he then gave to the son of simeon, that he might complete killing it. jesus appeared to inflict the wound with a feeling of repugnance, and he was quick in his movements, although his countenance was grave, and his manner such as to inspire respect. the blood flowed into a basin, and the attendants brought a branch of hyssop, which jesus dipped in it. then he went to the door of the room, stained the sideposts and the lock with blood, and placed the branch which had been dipped in blood above the door. he then spoke to the disciples, and told them, among other things, that the exterminating angel would pass by, that they would adore in that room without fear or anxiety, when he, the true paschal lamb, should have been immolated--that a new epoch and a new sacrifice were about to begin, which would last to the end of the world. they then went to the other side of the room, near the hearth where the ark of the covenant had formerly stood. fire had already been lighted there, and jesus poured some blood upon the hearth, consecrating it as an altar; and the remainder of the blood and the fat were thrown on the fire beneath the altar, after which jesus, followed by his apostles, walked round the supper-room, singing some psalms, and consecrating it as a new temple. the doors were all closed during this time. meanwhile the son of simeon had completed the preparation of the lamb. he passed a stake through its body, fastening the front legs on a cross piece of wood; and stretching the hind ones along the stake. it bore a strong resemblance to jesus on the cross, and was placed in the oven, to be there roasted with the three other lambs brought from the temple. the paschal lambs of the jews were all immolated in the vestibule of the temple, but in different parts, according as the persons who were to eat them were rich, or poor, or strangers. the paschal lamb belonging to jesus was not immolated in the temple, but everything else was done strictly according to the law. jesus again addressed his disciples, saying that the lamb was but a figure, that he himself would next day be the true paschal lamb, together with other things which i have forgotten. when jesus had finished his instructions concerning the paschal lamb and its signification, the time being come, and judas also returned, the tables were set out. the disciples put on travelling dresses which were in the vestibule, different shoes, a white robe resembling a shirt, and a cloak, which was short in front and longer behind, their sleeves were large and turned back, and they girded up their clothes around the waist. each party went to their own table; and two sets of disciples in the side rooms, and our lord and his apostles in the supper-room. they held staves in their hands, and went two and two to the table, where they remained standing, each in his own place, with the stave resting on his arms, and his hands upraised. the table was narrow, and about half a foot higher than the knees of a man; in shape it resembled a horseshoe, and opposite jesus, in the inner part of the half-circle, there was a space left vacant, that the attendants might be able to set down the dishes. as far as i can remember, john, james the greater, and james the less sat on the right-hand of jesus; after them bartholomew, and then, round the corner, thomas and judas iscariot. peter, andrew, and thaddeus sat on the left of jesus; next came simon, and then (round the corner) matthew and philip. the paschal lamb was placed on a dish in the centre of the table. its head rested on its front legs, which were fastened to a cross-stick, its hind legs being stretched out, and the dish was garnished with garlic. by the side there was a dish with the paschal roast meat, then came a plate with green vegetables balanced against each other, and another plate with small bundles of bitter herbs, which had the appearance of aromatic herbs. opposite jesus there was also one dish with different herbs, and a second containing a brown-coloured sauce of beverage. the guest had before them some round loaves instead of plates, and they used ivory knives. after the prayer, the major-domo laid the knife for cutting the lamb on the table before jesus, who placed a cup of wine before him, and filled six other cups, each one of which stood between two apostles. jesus blessed the wine and drank, and the apostles drank two together out of one cup. then our lord proceeded to cut up the lamb; his apostles presented their pieces of bread in turn, and each received his share. they ate it in haste, separating the flesh from the bone, by means of their ivory knives, and the bones were afterwards burnt. they also ate the garlic and green herbs in haste, dipping them in the sauce. all this time they remained standing, only leaning slightly on the backs of their seats. jesus brake one of the loaves of unleavened bread, covered up a part of it, and divided the remainder among his apostles. another cup of wine was brought, but jesus drank not of it: 'take this,' he said, 'and divide it among you, for i will not drink from henceforth of the fruit of the vine, until that day when i shall drink it with you new in the kingdom of my father' (matt. : ). when they had drunk the wine, they sang a hymn; then jesus prayed or taught, and they again washed their hands. after this they sat down. our lord cut up another lamb which was carried to the holy women in one of the buildings of the court, where they were seated at table. the apostles ate some more vegetables and lettuce. the countenance of our divine saviour bore an indescribable expression of serenity and recollection, greater than i had ever before seen. he bade the apostles forget all their cares. the blessed virgin also, as she sat at table with the other women, looked most placid and calm. when the other women came up, and took hold of her veil to make her turn round and speak to them, her every movement expressed the sweetest self-control and placidity of spirit. at first jesus conversed lovingly and calmly with his disciples, but after a while he became grave and sad: 'amen, amen, i say to you, that one of you is about to betray me:' he said, he that dippeth his hand with me in the dish' (matt. : . ). jesus was then distributing the lettuce, of which there was only one dish, to those apostles who were by his side, and he had given judas, who was nearly opposite to him, the office of distributing it to the others. when jesus spoke of a traitor, an expression which filled all the apostles with fear, he said: 'he that dippeth his hand with me in the dish,' which means: 'one of the twelve who are eating and drinking with me--one of those with whom i am eating bread.' he did not plainly point out judas to the others by these words; for to dip the hand in the same dish was an expression used to signify the most friendly and intimate intercourse. he was desirous, however, to give a warning to judas, who was then really dipping his hand in the dish with our saviour, to distribute the lettuce. jesus continued to speak: 'the son of man indeed goeth,' he said, 'as it is written of him: but woe to that man by whom the son of man shall be betrayed: it were better for him if that man had not been born.' the apostles were very much troubled, and each one of them exclaimed: 'lord, is it i?' for they were all perfectly aware that they did not entirely understand his words. peter leaned towards john, behind jesus, and made him a sign to ask our lord who the traitor was to be, for, having so often been reproved by our lord, he trembled lest it should be himself who was referred to. john was seated at the right hand of jesus, and as all were leaning on their left arms, using the right to eat, his head was close to the bosom of jesus. he leaned then on his breast and said: 'lord, who is it?' i did not see jesus say to him with his lips: 'he it is to whom i shall reach bread dipped.' i do not know whether he whispered it to him, but john knew it, when jesus having dipped the bread, which was covered with lettuce, gave it tenderly to judas, who also asked: 'is it i, lord?' jesus looked at him with love, and answered him in general terms. among the jews, to give bread dipped was a mark of friendship and confidence; jesus on this occasion gave judas the morsel, in order thus to warn him, without making known his guilt to the others. but the heart of judas burned with anger, and during the whole time of the repast, i saw a frightful little figure seated at his feet, and sometimes ascending to his heart. i did not see john repeat to peter what he had learned from jesus, but he set his fears at rest by a look. meditation vii. the washing of the feet. they arose from table, and whilst they were arranging their clothes, as they usually did before making their solemn prayer, the major-domo came in with two servants to take away the table. jesus, standing in the midst of his apostles, spoke to them long, in a most solemn manner. i could not repeat exactly his whole discourse, but i remember he spoke of his kingdom, of his going to his father, of what he would leave them now that he was about to be taken away, etc. he also gave them some instructions concerning penance, the confession of sin, repentance, and justification. i felt that these instructions referred to the washing of the feet, and i saw that all the apostles acknowledged their sins and repented of them, with the exception of judas. this discourse was long and solemn. when it was concluded, jesus sent john and james the less to fetch water from the vestibule, and he told the apostles to arrange the seats in a half circle. he went himself into the vestibule, where he girded himself with a towel. during this time, the apostles spoke among themselves, and began speculating as to which of them would be the greatest, for our lord having expressly announced that he was about to leave them and that his kingdom was near at hand, they felt strengthened anew in their idea that he had secret plans, and that he was referring to some earthly triumph which would be theirs at the last moment. meanwhile jesus, in the vestibule, told john to take a basin, and james a pitcher filled with water, with which they followed him into the room, where the major-domo had placed another empty basin. jesus, on returning to his disciples in so humble a manner, addressed them a few words of reproach on the subject of the dispute which had arisen between them, and said among other things, that he himself was their servant, and that they were to sit down, for him to wash their feet. they sat down, therefore, in the same order as they had sat at table. jesus went from one to the other, poured water from the basin which john carried on the feet of each, and then, taking the end of the towel wherewith he was girded, wiped them. most loving and tender was the manner of our lord while thus humbling himself at the feet of his apostles. peter, when his turn came, endeavoured through humility to prevent jesus from washing his feet: 'lord,' he exclaimed, 'dost thou wash my feet?' jesus answered: 'what i do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.' it appeared to me that he said to him privately: 'simon, thou hast merited for my father to reveal to thee who i am, whence i come, and whither i am going, thou alone hast expressly confessed it, therefore upon thee will i build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. my power will remain with thy successors to the end of the world.' jesus showed him to the other apostles, and said, that when he should be no more present among them, peter was to fill his place in their regard. peter said: 'thou shalt never wash my feet!' our lord replied: 'if i wash thee not, thou shalt have no part with me.' then peter exclaimed: 'lord, not only my feet, but also my hands and my head.' jesus replied: 'he that is washed, needeth not but to wash his feet, but is clean wholly. and you are clean, but not all.' by these last words he referred to judas. he had spoken of the washing of the feet as signifying purification from daily faults, because the feet, which are continually in contact with the earth, are also continually liable to be soiled, unless great care is taken. this washing of the feet was spiritual, and served as a species of absolution. peter, in his zeal, saw nothing in it but too great an act of abasement on the part of his master; he knew not that to save him jesus would the very next day humble himself even to the ignominious death of the cross. when jesus washed the feet of judas, it was in the most loving and affecting manner; he bent his sacred face even on to the feet of the traitor; and in a low voice bade him now at least enter into himself, for that he had been a faithless traitor for the last year. judas appeared to be anxious to pay no heed whatever to his words, and spoke to john, upon which peter became angry, and exclaimed: 'judas, the master speaks to thee!' then judas made our lord some vague, evasive reply, such as, 'heaven forbid, lord!' the others had not remarked that jesus was speaking to judas, for this words were uttered in a low voice, in order not to be heard by them, and besides, they were engaged in putting on their shoes. nothing in the whole course of the passion grieved jesus so deeply as the treason of judas. jesus finally washed the feet of john and james. he then spoke again on the subject of humility, telling them that he that was the greatest among them was to be as their servant, and that henceforth they were to wash one another's feet. then he put on his garments, and the apostles let down their clothes, which they had girded up before eating the paschal lamb. meditation viii. institution of the holy eucharist. by command of our lord, the major-domo had again laid out the table, which he had raised a little; then, having placed it once more in the middle of the room, he stood one urn filled with wine, and another with water underneath it. peter and john went into the part of the room near the hearth, to get the chalice which they had brought from seraphia's house, and which was still wrapped up in its covering. they carried it between them as if they had been carrying a tabernacle, and placed it on the table before jesus. an oval plate stood there, with three fine white azymous loaves, placed on a piece of linen, by the side of the half loaf which jesus had set aside during the paschal meal, also a jar containing wine and water, and three boxes, one filled with thick oil, a second with liquid oil, and the third empty. in earlier times, it had been the practice for all at table to eat of the same loaf and drink of the same cup at the end of the meal, thereby to express their friendship and brotherly love, and to welcome and bid farewell to each other. i think scripture must contain something upon this subject. on the day of the last supper, jesus raised this custom (which had hitherto been no more than a symbolical and figurative rite) to the dignity of the holiest of sacraments. one of the charges brought before caiphas, on occasion of the treason of judas, was, that jesus had introduced a novelty into the paschal ceremonies, but nicodemus proved from scripture that it was an ancient practice. jesus was seated between peter and john, the doors were closed, and everything was done in the most mysterious and imposing manner. when the chalice was taken out of its covering, jesus prayed, and spoke to his apostles with the utmost solemnity. i saw him giving them an explanation of the supper, and of the entire ceremony, and i was forcibly reminded of a priest teaching others to say mass. he then drew a species of shelf with grooves from the boars on which the jars stood, and taking a piece of white linen with which the chalice was covered, spread it over the board and shelf. i then saw him lift a round plate, which he placed on this same shelf, off the top of the chalice. he next took the azymous loaves from beneath the linen with which they were covered and placed them before him on the board; then he took out of the chalice a smaller vase, and ranged the six little glasses on each side of it. then he blessed the bread and also the oil, to the best of my belief after which he lifted up the paten with the loaves upon it, in his two hands, raised his eyes, prayed, offered, and replaced the paten on the table, covering it up again. he then took the chalice, had some wine poured into it by peter, and some water, which he first blessed, by john, adding to it a little more water, which he poured into a small spoon, and after this he blessed the chalice, raised it up with a prayer, made the oblation, and replaced it on the table. john and peter poured some water on his hands, which he held over the plate on which the azymous loaves had been placed; then he took a little of the water which had been poured on his hands, in the spoon that he had taken out of the lower part of the chalice, and poured it on theirs. after this, the vase was passed round the table, and all the apostles washed their hands in it. i do not remember whether this was the precise order in which these ceremonies were performed; all i know is, that they reminded me in a striking manner of the holy sacrifice of the mass. meanwhile, our divine lord became more and more tender and loving in his demeanour; he told his apostles that he was about to give them all that he had, namely, his entire self, and he looked as though perfectly transformed by love. i saw him becoming transparent, until he resembled a luminous shadow. he broke the bread into several pieces, which he laid together on the paten, and then took a corner of the first piece and dripped it into the chalice. at the moment when he was doing this, i seemed to see the blessed virgin receiving the holy sacrament in a spiritual manner, although she was not present in the supper-room. i do not know how it was done, but i thought i saw her enter without touching the ground, and come before our lord to receive the holy eucharist; after which i saw her no more. jesus had told her in the morning, at bethania, that he would keep the pasch with her spiritually, and he had named the hour at which she was to betake herself to prayer, in order to receive it in spirit. again he prayed and taught; his words came forth from his lips like fire and light, and entered into each of the apostles, with the exception of judas. he took the paten with the pieces of bread (i do not know whether he had placed it on the chalice) and said: 'take and eat; this is my body which is given for you.' he stretched forth his right hand as if to bless, and, whilst he did so, a brilliant light came from him, his words were luminous, the bread entered the mouths of the apostles as a brilliant substance, and light seemed to penetrate and surround them all, judas alone remaining dark. jesus presented the bread first to peter, next to john and then he made a sign to judas to approach. judas was thus the third who received the adorable sacrament, but the words of our lord appeared to turn aside from the mouth of the traitor, and come back to their divine author. so perturbed was i in spirit at this sight, that my feelings cannot be described. jesus said to him: 'that which thou dost, do quickly.' he then administered the blessed sacrament to the other apostles, who approached two and two. jesus raised the chalice by its two handles to a level with his face, and pronounced the words of consecration. whilst doing so, he appeared wholly transfigured, as it were transparent, and as though entirely passing into what he was going to give his apostles. he made peter and john drink from the chalice which he held in his hand, and then placed it again on the table. john poured the divine blood from the chalice into the smaller glasses, and peter presented them to the apostles, two of whom drank together out of the same cup. i think, but am not quite certain, that judas also partook of the chalice; he did not return to his place, but immediately left the supper-room, and the other apostles thought that jesus had given him some commission to do. he left without praying or making any thanksgiving, and hence you may perceive how sinful it is to neglect returning thanks either after receiving our daily food, or after partaking of the life-giving bread of angels. during the entire meal, i had seen a frightful little figure, with one foot like a dried bone, remaining close to judas, but when he had reached the door, i beheld three devils pressing round him; one entered into his mouth, the second urged him on, and the third preceded him. it was night, and they seemed to be lighting him, whilst he hurried onward like a madman. our lord poured a few drops of the precious blood remaining in the chalice into the little vase of which i have already spoken, and then placed his fingers over the chalice, while peter and john poured water and wine upon them. this done, he caused them to drink again from the chalice, and what remained of its contents was poured into the smaller glasses, and distributed to the other apostles. then jesus wiped the chalice, put into it the little vase containing the remainder of the divine blood, and placed over it the paten with the fragments of the consecrated bread, after which he again put on the cover, wrapped up the chalice, and stood it in the midst of the six small cups. i saw the apostles receive in communion these remains of the adorable sacrament, after the resurrection. i do not remember seeing our lord himself eat and drink of the consecrated elements, neither did i see melchisedech, when offering the bread and wine, taste of them himself. it was made known to me why priests partake of them, although jesus did not. here sister emmerich looked suddenly up, and appeared to be listening. some explanation was given her on this subject, but the following words were all that she could repeat to us: 'if the office of distributing it had been given to angels, they would not have partaken, but if priests did not partake, the blessed eucharist would be lost--it is through their participation that it is preserved.' there was an indescribable solemnity and order in all the actions of jesus during the institution of the holy eucharist, and his every movement was most majestic. i saw the apostles noting things down in the little rolls of parchment which they carried on their persons. several times during the ceremonies i remarked that they bowed to each other, in the same way that our priests do. meditation ix. private instruction and consecrations. jesus gave his apostles some private instructions; he told them how they were to preserve the blessed sacrament in memory of him, even to the end of the world; he taught them the necessary forms for making use of and communicating it, and in what manner they were, by degrees, to teach and publish this mystery; finally he told them when they were to receive what remained of the consecrated elements, when to give some to the blessed virgin, and how to consecrate, themselves, after he should have sent them the divine comforter. he then spoke concerning the priesthood, the sacred unction, and the preparation of the chrism and holy oils. he had there three boxes, two of which contained a mixture of oil and balm. he taught them how to make this mixture, what parts of the body were to be anointed with them, and upon what occasions. i remember, among other things, that he mentioned a case in which the holy eucharist could not be administered; perhaps what he said had reference to extreme unction, for my recollections on this point are not very clear. he spoke of different kinds of anointing, and in particular of that of kings, and he said that even wicked kings who were anointed, derived from it especial powers. he put ointment and oil in the empty box, and mixed them together, but i cannot say for certain whether it was at this moment, or at the time of the consecration of the bread, that he blessed the oil. i then saw jesus anoint peter and john, on whose hands he had already poured the water which had flowed on his own, and two whom he had given to drink out of the chalice. then he laid his hands on their shoulders and heads, while they, on their part, joined their hands and crossed their thumbs, bowing down profoundly before him--i am not sure whether they did not even kneel. he anointed the thumb and fore-finger of each of their hands, and marked a cross on their heads with chrism. he said also that this would remain with them unto the end of the world. james the less, andrew, james the greater, and bartholomew, were also consecrated. i saw likewise that on peter's bosom he crossed a sort of stole worn round the neck, whilst on the others he simply placed it crosswise, from the right shoulder to the left side. i do not know whether this was done at the time of the institution of the blessed sacrament, or only for the anointing. i understood that jesus communicated to them by this unction something essential and supernatural, beyond my power to describe. he told them that when they should have received the holy spirit they were to consecrate the bread and wine, and anoint the other apostles. it was made known to me then that, on the day of pentecost, peter and john imposed their hands upon the other apostles, and a week later upon several of the disciples. after the resurrection, john gave the adorable sacrament for the first time to the blessed virgin. it is a festival no longer kept in the church on earth, but i see it celebrated in the church triumphant. for the first few days after pentecost i saw only peter and john consecrate the blessed eucharist, but after that the others also consecrated. our lord next proceeded to bless fire in a brass vessel, and care was taken that it should not go out, but it was kept near the spot where the blessed sacrament had been deposited, in one division of the ancient paschal hearth, and fire was always taken from it when needed for spiritual purposes. all that jesus did upon this occasion was done in private, and taught equally in private. the church has retained all that was essential of these secret instructions, and, under the inspiration of the holy ghost, developed and adapted them to all her requirements. whether peter and john were both consecrated bishops, or peter alone as bishop and john as priest, or to what dignity the other four apostles were raised, i cannot pretend to say. but the different ways in which our lord arranged the apostles' stoles appear to indicate different degrees of consecration. when these holy ceremonies were concluded, the chalice (near which the blessed chrism also stood) was re-covered, and the adorable sacrament carried by peter and john into the back part of the room, which was divided off by a curtain, and from thenceforth became the sanctuary. the spot where the blessed sacrament was deposited was not very far above the paschal stove. joseph of arimathea and nicodemus took care of the sanctuary and of the supper-room during the absence of the apostles. jesus again instructed his apostles for a considerable length of time, and also prayed several times. he frequently appeared to be conversing with his heavenly father, and to be overflowing with enthusiasm and love. the apostles also were full of joy and zeal, and asked him various questions which he forthwith answered. the scriptures must contain much of this last discourse and conversation. he told peter and john different things to be made known later to the other apostles, who in their turn were to communicate them to the disciples and holy women, according to the capacity of each for such knowledge. he had a private conversation with john, whom he told that his life would be longer than the lives of the others. he spoke to him also concerning seven churches, some crowns and angels, and instructed him in the meaning of certain mysterious figures, which signified, to the best of my belief, different epochs. the other apostles were slightly jealous of this confidential communication being made to john. jesus spoke also of the traitor. 'now he is doing this or that,' he said, and i, in fact, saw judas doing exactly as he said of him. as peter was vehemently protesting that he would always remain faithful, our lord said to him: 'simon, simon, behold satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat. but i have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not: and thou being once converted, confirm thy brethren.' again, our lord, said, that whither he was going they could not follow him, when peter exclaimed: 'lord, i am ready to go with thee both into prison and to death.' and jesus replied: 'amen, amen, i say to thee, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.' jesus, while making known to his apostles that trying times were at hand for them, said: 'when i sent you without purse, or scrip, or shoes, did you want anything?' they answered: 'nothing.' 'but now,' he continued, 'he that hath a purse let him take it, and likewise a scrip, and he that hath not, let him sell his coat and buy a sword. for i say to you, that this that is written must yet be fulfilled in me: and with the wicked was he reckoned. for the things concerning me have an end.' the apostles only understood his words in a carnal sense, and peter showed him two swords, which were short and thick, like cleavers. jesus said: 'it is enough: let us go hence.' then they sang the thanksgiving hymn, put the table on one side, and went into the vestibule. there, jesus found his mother, mary of cleophas, and magdalen, who earnestly besought him not to go to mount olivet, for a report has spread that his enemies were seeking to lay hands on him. but jesus comforted them in few words, and hastened onward--it being then about nine o'clock. they went down the road by which peter and john had come to the supper-room, and directed their steps towards mount olivet. i have always seen the pasch and the institution of the blessed sacrament take place in the order related above. but my feelings were each time so strongly excited and my emotion so great, that i could not give much attention to all the details, but now i have seen them more distinctly. no words can describe how painful and exhausting is such a sight as that of beholding the hidden recesses of hearts, the love and constancy of our saviour, and to know at the same time all that is going to befall him. how would it be possible to observe all that is merely external! the heart is overflowing with admiration, gratitude, and love--the blindness of men seems perfectly incomprehensible--and the soul is overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought of the ingratitude of the whole world, and of her own sins! the eating of the paschal lamb was performed by jesus rapidly, and in entire conformity with all the legal ordinances. the pharisees were in the habit of adding some minute and superstitious ceremonies. the passion. "if thou knowest not how to meditate on high and heavenly things, rest on the passion of christ, and willingly dwell in his sacred wounds. for, if thou fly devoutly to the wounds and precious stigmas of jesus, thou shalt feel great comfort in tribulation."--imitation of christ, book , chapter . introduction. on the evening of the th of february, , a friend of sister emmerich went up to the bed, where she was lying apparently asleep; and being much struck by the beautiful and mournful expression of her countenance, felt himself inwardly inspired to raise his heart fervently to god, and offer the passion of christ to the eternal father, in union with the sufferings of all those who have carried their cross after him. while making this short prayer, he chanced to fix his eyes for a moment upon the stigmatised hands of sister emmerich. she immediately hid them under the counterpane, starting as if someone had given her a blow. he felt surprised at this, and asked her, 'what has happened to you?' 'many things,' she answered in an expressive tone. whilst he was considering what her meaning could be, she appeared to be asleep. at the end of about a quarter of an hour, she suddenly started up with all the eagerness of a person having a violent struggle with another, stretched out both her arms, clenching her hand, as if to repel an enemy standing on the left side of her bed, and exclaimed in an indignant voice: 'what do you mean by this contract of magdalum?' then she continued to speak with the warmth of a person who is being questioned during a quarrel--'yes, it is that accursed spirit--the liar from the beginning--satan, who is reproaching him about the magdalum contract, and other things of the same nature, and says that he spent all that money upon himself.' when asked, 'who has spent money? who is being spoken to in that way?' she replied, 'jesus, my adorable spouse, on mount olivet.' then she again turned to the left, with menacing gestures, and exclaimed, 'what meanest thou, o father of lies, with thy magdalum contract? did he not deliver twenty-seven poor prisoners at thirza, with the money derived from the sale of magdalum? i saw him, and thou darest to say that he has brought confusion into the whole estate, driven out its inhabitants, and squandered the money for which it was sold? but thy time is come, accursed spirit! thou wilt be chained, and his heel will crush thy head.' here she was interrupted by the entrance of another person; her friends thought that she was in delirium, and pitied her. the following morning she owned that the previous night she had imagined herself to be following our saviour to the garden of olives, after the institution of the blessed eucharist, but that just at that moment someone having looked at the stigmas on her hands with a degree of veneration, she felt so horrified at this being done in the presence of our lord, that she hastily hid them, with a feeling of pain. she then related her vision of what took place in the garden of olives, and as she continued her narrations the following days, the friend who was listening to her was enabled to connect the different scenes of the passion together. but as, during lent, she was also celebrating the combats of our lord with satan in the desert, she had to endure in her own person many sufferings and temptations. hence there were a few pauses in the history of the passion, which were, however, easily filled up by means of some later communications. she usually spoke in common german, but when in a state of ecstasy, her language became much purer, and her narrations partook at once of child-like simplicity and dignified inspiration. her friend wrote down all that she had said, directly he returned to his own apartments; for it was seldom that he could so much as even take notes in her presence. the giver of all good gifts bestowed upon him memory, zeal, and strength to bear much trouble and fatigue, so that he has been enabled to bring this work to a conclusion. his conscience tells him that he has done his best, and he humbly begs the reader, if satisfied with the result of his labours, to bestow upon him the alms of an occasional prayer. chapter i. jesus in the garden of olives. when jesus left the supper-room with the eleven apostles, after the institution of the adorable sacrament of the altar, his soul was deeply oppressed and his sorrow on the increase. he led the eleven, by an unfrequented path, to the valley of josaphat. as they left the house, i saw the moon, which was not yet quite at the full, rising in front of the mountain. our divine lord; as he wandered with his apostles about the valley, told them that here he should one day return to judge the world, but not in a state of poverty and humiliation, as he then was, and that men would tremble with fear, and cry: 'mountains, fall upon us!' his disciples did not understand him, and thought, by no means for the first time that night, that weakness and exhaustion had affected his brain. he said to them again: 'all you shall be scandalised in me this night. for it is written: i will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be dispersed. but after i shall be risen again, i will go before you into galilee.' the apostles were still in some degree animated by the spirit of enthusiasm and devotion with which their reception of the blessed sacrament and the solemn and affecting words of jesus had inspired them. they eagerly crowded round him, and expressed their love in a thousand different ways, earnestly protesting that they would never abandon him. but as jesus continued to talk in the same strain, peter exclaimed: 'although all shall be scandalised in thee, i will never be scandalised!' and our lord answered him: 'amen, i say to thee, that in this night, before the cock crow, thou wilt deny me thrice.' but peter still insisted, saying: 'yea, though i should die with thee, i will not deny thee.' and the others all said the same. they walked onward and stopped, by turns, for the sadness of our divine lord continued to increase. the apostles tried to comfort him by human arguments, assuring him that what he foresaw would not come to pass. they tired themselves in these vain efforts, began to doubt, and were assailed by temptation. they crossed the brook cedron, not by the bridge where, a few hours later, jesus was taken prisoner, but by another, for they had left the direct road. gethsemani, whither they were going, was about a mile and a half distant from the supper-hall, for it was three quarters of a mile from the supper-hall to the valley of josaphat, and about as far from thence to gethsemani. the place called gethsemani (where latterly jesus had several times passed the night with his disciples) was a large garden, surrounded by a hedge, and containing only some fruit trees and flowers, while outside there stood a few deserted unclosed buildings. the apostles and several others persons had keys of this garden, which was used sometimes as a pleasure ground, and sometimes as a place of retirement for prayer. some arbours made of leaves and branches had been raised there, and eight of the apostles remained in them, and were later joined by others of the disciples. the garden of olives was separated by a road from that of gethsemani, and was open, surrounded only by an earthern wall, and smaller than the garden of gethsemani. there were caverns, terraces, and many olive-trees to be seen in this garden, and it was easy to find there a suitable spot for prayer and meditation. it was to the wildest part that jesus went to pray. it was about nine o'clock when jesus reached gethsemani with his disciples. the moon had risen, and already gave light in the sky, although the earth was still dark. jesus was most sorrowful, and told his apostles that danger was at hand. the disciples felt uneasy, and he told eight of those who were following him, to remain in the garden of gethsemani whilst he went on to pray. he took with him peter, james, and john, and going on a little further, entered into the garden of olives. no words can describe the sorrow which then oppressed his soul, for the time of trial was near. john asked him how it was that he, who had hitherto always consoled them, would now be so dejected? 'my soul is sorrowful even unto death,' was his reply. and he beheld sufferings and temptations surrounding him on all sides, and drawing nearer and nearer, under the forms of frightful figures borne on clouds. then it was that he said to the three apostles: 'stay you here and watch with me. pray, lest ye enter into temptation.' jesus went a few steps to the left, down a hill, and concealed himself beneath a rock, in a grotto about six feet deep, while the apostles remained in a species of hollow above. the earth sank gradually the further you entered this grotto, and the plants which were hanging from the rock screened its interior like a curtain from persons outside. when jesus left his disciples, i saw a number of frightful figures surrounding him in an ever-narrowing circle. his sorrow and anguish of soul continued to increase, and he was trembling all over when he entered the grotto to pray, like a wayworn traveller hurriedly seeking shelter from a sudden storm, but the awful visions pursued him even there, and became more and more clear and distinct. alas! this small cavern appeared to contain the awful picture of all the sins which had been or were to be committed from the fall of adam to the end of the world, and of the punishment which they deserved. it was here, on mount olivet, that adam and eve took refuge when drive out of paradise to wander homeless on earth, and they had wept and bewailed themselves in this very grotto. i felt that jesus, in delivering himself up to divine justice in satisfaction for the sins of the world, caused his divinity to return, in some sort, into the bosom of the holy trinity, concentrated himself, so to speak, in his pure, loving and innocent humanity, and strong only in his ineffable love, gave it up to anguish and suffering. he fell on his face, overwhelmed with unspeakable sorrow, and all the sins of the world displayed themselves before him, under countless forms and in all their real deformity. he took them all upon himself, and in his prayer offered his own adorable person to the justice of his heavenly father, in payment for so awful a debt. but satan, who was enthroned amid all these horrors, and even filled with diabolical joy at the sight of them, let loose his fury against jesus, and displayed before the eyes of his soul increasingly awful visions, at the same time addressing his adorable humanity in words such as these: 'takest thou even this sin upon thyself? art thou willing to bear its penalty? art thou prepared to satisfy for all these sins?' and now a long ray of light, like a luminous path in the air descended from heaven; it was a procession of angels who came up to jesus and strengthened and re-invigorated him. the remainder of the grotto was filled with frightful visions of our crimes; jesus took them all upon himself, but that adorable heart, which was so filled with the most perfect love for god and man, was flooded with anguish, and overwhelmed beneath the weight of so many abominable crimes. when this huge mass of iniquities, like the waves of a fathomless ocean, has passed over his soul, satan brought forward innumerable temptations, as he had formerly done in the desert, even daring to adduce various accusations against him. 'and takest thou all these things upon thyself,' he exclaimed, 'thou who art not unspotted thyself?' then he laid to the charge of our lord, with infernal impudence, a host of imaginary crimes. he reproached him with the faults of his disciples, the scandals which they had caused, and the disturbances which he had occasioned in the world by giving up ancient customs. no pharisee, however wily and severe, could have surpassed satan on this occasion; he reproached jesus with having been the cause of the massacre of the innocents, as well as of the sufferings of his parents in egypt, with not having saved john the baptist from death, with having brought disunion into families, protected men of despicable character, refused to cure various sick persons, injured the inhabitants of gergesa by permitting men possessed by the devil to overturn their vats, and demons to make swine cast themselves into the sea; with having deserted his family, and squandered the property of others; in one word satan, in the hopes of causing jesus to waver, suggested to him every thought by which he would have tempted at the hour of death an ordinary mortal who might have performed all these actions without a superhuman intention; for it was hidden from him that jesus was the son of god, and he tempted him only as the most just of men. our divine saviour permitted his humanity thus to preponderate over his divinity, for he was pleased to endure even those temptations with which holy souls are assailed at the hour of death concerning the merit of their good works. that he might drink the chalice of suffering even to the dregs, he permitted the evil spirit to tempt his sacred humanity, as he would have tempted a man who should wish to attribute to his good works some special value in themselves, over and above what they might have by their union with the merits of our saviour. there was not an action out of which he did not contrive to frame some accusation, and he reproached jesus, among other things, with having spent the price of the property of mary magdalen at magdalum, which he had received from lazarus. among the sins of the world which jesus took upon himself, i saw also my own; and a stream, in which i distinctly beheld each of my faults, appeared to flow towards me from out of the temptations with which he was encircled. during this time my eyes were fixed upon my heavenly spouse; with him i wept and prayed, and with him i turned towards the consoling angels. ah, truly did our dear lord writhe like a worm beneath the weight of his anguish and sufferings! whilst satan was pouring forth his accusations against jesus, it was with difficulty that i could restrain my indignation, but when he spoke of the sale of magdalen's property, i could no longer keep silence, and exclaimed: 'how canst thou reproach him with the sale of this property as with a crime? did i not myself see our lord spend the sum which was given him by lazarus in works of mercy, and deliver twenty-eight debtors imprisoned at thirza?' at first jesus looked calm, as he kneeled down and prayed, but after a time his soul became terrified at the sight of the innumerable crimes of men, and of their ingratitude towards god, and his anguish was so great that the trembled and shuddered as he exclaimed: 'father, if it is possible, let this chalice pass from me! father, all things are possible to thee, remove this chalice from me!' but the next moment he added: 'nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.' his will and that of his father were one, but now that his love had ordained that he should be left to all the weakness of his human nature, he trembled at the prospect of death. i saw the cavern in which he was kneeling filled with frightful figures; i saw all the sins, wickedness, vices, and ingratitude of mankind torturing and crushing him to the earth; the horror of death and terror which he felt as man at the sight of the expiatory sufferings about to come upon him, surrounded and assailed his divine person under the forms of hideous spectres. he fell from side to side, clasping his hands; his body was covered with a cold sweat, and he trembled and shuddered. he then arose, but his knees were shaking and apparently scarcely able to support him; his countenance was pale, and quite altered in appearance, his lips white, and his hair standing on end. it was about half-past ten o'clock when he arose from his knees, and, bathed in a cold sweat, directed his trembling, weak footsteps towards his three apostles. with difficulty did he ascend the left side of the cavern, and reach a spot where the ground was level, and where they were sleeping, exhausted with fatigue, sorrow and anxiety. he came to them, like a man overwhelmed with bitter sorrow, whom terror urges to seek his friends, but like also to a good shepherd, who, when warned of the approach of danger, hastens to visit his flock, the safety of which is threatened; for he well knew that they also were being tried by suffering and temptation. the terrible visions never left him, even while he was thus seeking his disciples. when he found that they were asleep, he clasped his hands and fell down on his knees beside them, overcome with sorrow and anxiety, and said: 'simon, sleepest thou?' they awoke, and raised him up, and he, in his desolation of spirit, said to them: 'what? could you not watch one hour with me?' when they looked at him, and saw him pale and exhausted, scarcely able to support himself, bathed in sweat, trembling and shuddering,--when they heard how changed and almost inaudible his voice had become, they did not know what to think, and had he not been still surrounded by a well-known halo of light, they would never have recognised him as jesus. john said to him: 'master, what has befallen thee? must i call the other disciples? ought we to take to flight?' jesus answered him: 'were i to live, teach, and perform miracles for thirty-three years longer, that would not suffice for the accomplishment of what must be fulfilled before this time tomorrow. call not the eight; i did not bring them hither, because they could not see me thus agonising without being scandalised; they would yield to temptation, forget much of the past, and lose their confidence in me. but you, who have seen the son of man transfigured, may also see him under a cloud, and in dereliction of spirit; nevertheless, watch and pray, lest ye fall into temptation, for the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.' by these words he sought at once to encourage them to persevere, and to make known to them the combat which his human nature was sustaining against death, together with the cause of his weakness. in his overwhelming sorrow, he remained with them nearly a quarter of an hour, and spoke to them again. he then returned to the grotto, his mental sufferings being still on the increase, while his disciples, on their part, stretched forth their hands towards him, wept, and embraced each other, asking, 'what can it be? what is happening to him? he appears to be in a state of complete desolation.' after this, they covered their heads, and began to pray, sorrowfully and anxiously. about an hour and a half had passed since jesus entered the garden of olives. it is true that scripture tells us he said, 'could you not watch one hour with me?' but his words should not be taken literally, nor according to our way of counting time. the three apostles who were with jesus had prayed at first, but then they had fallen asleep, for temptation had come upon them by reason of their want of trust in god. the other eight, who had remained outside the garden, did not sleep, for our lord's last words, so expressive of suffering and sadness, had filled their hearts with sinister forebodings, and they wandered about mount olivet, trying to find some place of refuge in case of danger. the town of jerusalem was very quiet; the jews were in their houses, engaged in preparing for the feast, but i saw, here and there, some of the friends and disciples of jesus walking to and fro, with anxious countenances, conversing earnestly together, and evidently expecting some great event. the mother of our lord, magdalen, martha, mary of cleophas, mary salome, and salome had gone from the supper-hall to the house of mary, the mother of mark. mary was alarmed at the reports which were spreading, and wished to return to the town with her friends, in order to hear something of jesus. lazarus, nicodemus, joseph of arimathea, and some relations from hebron, came to see and endeavour to tranquillise her, for as they were aware, either from their own knowledge or from what the disciples had told them, of the mournful predictions which jesus had made in the supper-room, they had made inquiries of some pharisees of their acquaintance, and had not been able to hear that any conspiracy was on foot for the time against our lord. being utterly ignorant of the treason of judas, they assured mary that the danger could not yet be very great, and that the enemies of jesus would not make any attempt upon his person, at least until the festival was over. mary told them how restless and disturbed in mind judas had latterly appeared, and how abruptly he had left the supper-room. she felt no doubt of his having gone to betray our lord, for she had often warned him that he was a son of perdition. the holy women then returned to the house of mary, the mother of mark. when jesus, unrelieved of all the weight of his sufferings, returned to the grotto, he fell prostrate, with his face on the ground and his arms extended, and prayed to his eternal father; but his soul had to sustain a second interior combat, which lasted three-quarters of an hour. angels came and showed him, in a series of visions, all the sufferings that he was to endure in order to expiate sin; how great was the beauty of man, the image of god, before the fall, and how that beauty was changed and obliterated when sin entered the world. he beheld how all sins originated in that of adam, the signification and essence of concupiscence, its terrible effect on the powers of the soul, and likewise the signification and essence of all the sufferings entailed by concupiscence. they showed him the satisfaction which he would have to offer to divine justice, and how it would consist of a degree of suffering in his soul and body which would comprehend all the sufferings due to the concupiscence of all mankind, since the debt of the whole human race had to be paid by that humanity which alone was sinless--the humanity of the son of god. the angels showed him all these things under different forms, and i felt what they were saying, although i heard no voice. no tongue can describe what anguish and what horror overwhelmed the soul of jesus at the sight of so terrible an expiation--his sufferings were so great, indeed, that a bloody sweat issued forth from all the pores of this sacred body. whilst the adorable humanity of christ was thus crushed to the earth beneath this awful weight of suffering, the angels appeared filled with compassion; there was a pause, and i perceived that they were earnestly desiring to console him, and praying to that effect before the throne of god. for one instant there appeared to be, as it were, a struggle between the mercy and justice of god and that love which was sacrificing itself. i was permitted to see an image of god, not, as before, seated on a throne, but under a luminous form. i beheld the divine nature of the son in the person of the father, and, as it were, withdrawn in his bosom; the person of the holy ghost proceeded from the father and the son, it was, so to speak, between them, and yet the whole formed only one god--but these things are indescribable. all this was more an inward perception than a vision under distinct forms, and it appeared to me that the divine will of our lord withdrew in some sort into the eternal father, in order to permit all those sufferings which his human will besought his father to spare him, to weigh upon his humanity alone. i saw this at the time when the angels, filled with compassion, were desiring to console jesus, who, in fact, was slightly relieved at that moment. then all disappeared, and the angels retired from our lord, whose soul was about to sustain fresh assaults. when our redeemer, on mount olivet, was pleased to experience and overcome that violent repugnance of human nature to suffering and death which constitutes a portion of all sufferings, the tempter was permitted to do to him what he does to all men who desire to sacrifice themselves in a holy cause. in the first portion of the agony, satan displayed before the eyes of our lord the enormity of that debt of sin which he was going to pay, and was even bold and malicious enough to seek faults in the very works of our saviour himself. in the second agony, jesus beheld, to its fullest extent and in all its bitterness, the expiatory suffering which would be required to satisfy divine justice. this was displayed to him by angels; for it belongs not to satan to show that expiation is possible, and the father of lies and despair never exhibits the works of divine mercy before men. jesus having victoriously resisted all these assaults by his entire and absolute submission to the will of his heavenly father, a succession of new and terrifying visions were presented before his eyes, and that feeling of doubt and anxiety which a man on the point of making some great sacrifice always experiences, arose in the soul of our lord, as he asked himself the tremendous question: 'and what good will result from this sacrifice?' then a most awful picture of the future was displayed before his eyes and overwhelmed his tender heart with anguish. when god had created the first adam, he cast a deep sleep upon him, opened his side, and took one of his ribs, of which he made eve, his wife and the mother of all the living. then he brought her to adam, who exclaimed: 'this now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh... wherefore a man shall leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh.' that was the marriage of which it is written: 'this is a great sacrament. i speak in christ and in the church.' jesus christ, the second adam, was pleased also to let sleep come upon him--the sleep of death on the cross, and he was also pleased to let his side be opened, in order that the second eve, his virgin spouse, the church, the mother of all the living, might be formed from it. it was his will to give her the blood of redemption, the water of purification, and his spirit--the three which render testimony on earth--and to bestow upon her also the holy sacraments, in order that she might be pure, holy, and undefiled; he was to be her head, and we were to be her members, under submission to the head, the bone of his bones, and the flesh of his flesh. in taking human nature, that he might suffer death for us, he had also left his eternal father, to cleave to his spouse, the church, and he became one flesh with her, by feeding her with the adorable sacrament of the altar, in which he unites himself unceasingly with us. he had been pleased to remain on earth with his church, until we shall all be united together by him within her fold, and he has said: 'the gates of hell shall never prevail against her.' to satisfy his unspeakable love for sinners, our lord had become man and a brother of these same sinners, that so he might take upon himself the punishment due to all their crimes. he had contemplated with deep sorrow the greatness of this debt and the unspeakable sufferings by which it was to be acquitted. yet he had most joyfully given himself up to the will of his heavenly father as a victim of expiation. now, however, he beheld all the future sufferings, combats, and wounds of his heavenly spouse; in one word, he beheld the ingratitude of men. the soul of jesus beheld all the future sufferings of his apostles, disciples, and friends; after which he saw the primitive church, numbering but few souls in her fold at first, and then in proportion as her numbers increased, disturbed by heresies and schisms breaking out among her children, who repeated the sin of adam by pride and disobedience. he saw the tepidity, malice and corruption of an infinite number of christians, the lies and deceptions of proud teachers, all the sacrileges of wicked priests, the fatal consequences of each sin, and the abomination of desolation in the kingdom of god, in the sanctuary of those ungrateful human beings whom he was about to redeem with his blood at the cost of unspeakable sufferings. the scandals of all ages, down to the present day and even to the end of the world--every species of error, deception, mad fanaticism, obstinacy and malice--were displayed before his eyes, and he beheld, as it were floating before him, all the apostates, heresiarchs, and pretended reformers, who deceive men by an appearance of sanctity. the corrupters and the corrupted of all ages outraged and tormented him for not having been crucified after their fashion, or for not having suffered precisely as they settled or imagined he should have done. they vied with each other in tearing the seamless robe of his church; many illtreated, insulted, and denied him, and many turned contemptuously away, shaking their heads at him, avoiding his compassionate embrace, and hurrying on to the abyss where they were finally swallowed up. he saw countless numbers of other men who did not dare openly to deny him, but who passed on in disgust at the sight of the wounds of his church, as the levite passed by the poor man who had fallen among robbers. like unto cowardly and faithless children, who desert their mother in the middle of the night, at the sight of the thieves and robbers to whom their negligence or their malice has opened the door, they fled from his wounded spouse. he beheld all these men, sometimes separated from the true vine, and taking their rest amid the wild fruit trees, sometimes like lost sheep, left to the mercy of the wolves, led by base hirelings into bad pasturages, and refusing to enter the fold of the good shepherd who gave his life for his sheep. they were wandering homeless in the desert in the midst of the sand blown about by the wind, and were obstinately determined not to see his city placed upon a hill, which could not be hidden, the house of his spouse, his church built upon a rock, and with which he had promised to remain to the end of ages. they built upon the sand wretched tenements, which they were continually pulling down and rebuilding, but in which there was neither altar nor sacrifice; they had weathercocks on their roofs, and their doctrines changed with the wind, consequently they were for ever in opposition one with the other. they never could come to a mutual understanding, and were forever unsettled, often destroying their own dwellings and hurling the fragments against the corner-stone of the church, which always remained unshaken. as there was nothing but darkness in the dwelling of these men, many among them, instead of directing their steps towards the candle placed on the candlestick in the house of the spouse of christ, wandered with closed eyes around the gardens of the church, sustaining life only by inhaling the sweet odours which were diffused from them far and near, stretching forth their hands towards shadowy idols, and following wandering stars which led them to wells where there was no water. even when on the very brink of the precipice, they refused to listen to the voice of the spouse calling them, and, though dying with hunger, derided, insulted, and mocked at those servants and messengers who were sent to invite them to the nuptial feast. they obstinately refused to enter the garden, because they feared the thorns of the hedge, although they had neither wheat with which to satisfy their hunger nor wine to quench their thirst, but were simply intoxicated with pride and self-esteem, and being blinded by their own false lights, persisted in asserting that the church of the word made flesh was invisible. jesus beheld them all, he wept over them, and was pleased to suffer for all those who do not see him and who will not carry their crosses after him in his city built upon a hill--his church founded upon a rock, to which he has given himself in the holy eucharist, and against which the gates of hell will never prevail. bearing a prominent place in these mournful visions which were beheld by the soul of jesus, i saw satan, who dragged away and strangled a multitude of men redeemed by the blood of christ and sanctified by the unction of his sacrament. our divine saviour beheld with bitterest anguish the ingratitude and corruption of the christians of the first and of all succeeding ages, even to the end of the world, and during the whole of this time the voice of the tempter was incessantly repeating: 'canst thou resolve to suffer for such ungrateful reprobates?' while the various apparitions succeeded each other with intense rapidity, and so violently weighed down and crushed the soul of jesus, that his sacred humanity was overwhelmed with unspeakable anguish. jesus--the anointed of the lord--the son of man struggled and writhed as he fell on his knees, with clasped hands, as it were annihilated beneath the weight of his suffering. so violent was the struggle which then took place between his human will and his repugnance to suffer so much for such an ungrateful race, that from every pore of his sacred body there burst forth large drops of blood, which fell trickling on to the ground. in his bitter agony, he looked around, as though seeking help, and appeared to take heaven, earth, and the stars of the firmament to witness of his sufferings. jesus, in his anguish of spirit, raised his voice, and gave utterance to several cries of pain. the three apostles awoke, listened, and were desirous of approaching him, but peter detained james and john, saying: 'stay you here; i will join him.' then i saw peter hastily run forward and enter the grotto. 'master,' he exclaimed, 'what has befallen thee?' but at the sight of jesus, thus bathed in his own blood, and sinking to the ground beneath the weight of mortal fear and anguish, he drew back, and paused for a moment, overcome with terror. jesus made him no answer, and appeared unconscious of his presence. peter returned to the other two, and told them that the lord had not answered him except by groans and sighs. they became more and more sorrowful after this, covered their heads, and sat down to weep and pray. i then returned to my heavenly spouse in his most bitter agony. the frightful visions of the future ingratitude of the men whose debt to divine justice he was taking upon himself, continued to become more and more vivid and tremendous. several times i heard him exclaim: 'o my father, can i possibly suffer for so ungrateful a race? o my father, if this chalice may not pass from me, but i must drink it, thy will be done!' amid all these apparitions, satan held a conspicuous place, under various forms, which represented different species of sins. sometimes he appeared under the form of a gigantic black figure, sometimes under those of a tiger, a fox, a wolf, a dragon, or a serpent. not, however, that he really took any of these shapes, but merely some one of their characteristics, joined with other hideous forms. none of these frightful apparitions entirely resembled any creature, but were symbols of abomination, discord, contradiction, and sin--in one word, were demoniacal to the fullest extent. these diabolical figures urged on, dragged, and tore to pieces, before the very eyes of jesus, countless numbers of those men for whose redemption he was entering upon the painful way of the cross. at first i but seldom saw the serpent: soon, however, it made its appearance, with a crown upon its head. this odious reptile was of gigantic size, apparently possessed of unbounded strength, and led forward countless legions of the enemies of jesus in every age and of every nation. being armed with all kinds of destructive weapons, they sometimes tore one another in pieces, and then renewed their attacks upon our saviour with redoubled rage. it was indeed an awful sight; for they heaped upon him the most fearful outrages, cursing, striking, wounding, and tearing him in pieces. their weapons, swords, and spears flew about in the air, crossing and recrossing continually in all directions, like the flails of threshers in an immense barn; and the rage of each of these fiends seemed exclusively directed against jesus--that grain of heavenly wheat descended to the earth to die there, in order to feed men eternally with the bread of life. thus exposed to the fury of these hellish bands, some of which appeared to me wholly composed of blind men, jesus was as much wounded and bruised as if their blows had been real. i saw him stagger from side to side, sometimes raising himself up, and sometimes falling again, while the serpent, in the midst of the crowds whom it was unceasingly leading forward against jesus, struck the ground with its tail, and tore to pieces or swallowed all whom it thus knocked to the ground. it was made known to me that these apparitions were all those persons who in divers ways insult and outrage jesus, really and truly present in the holy sacrament. i recognised among them all those who in any way profane the blessed eucharist. i beheld with horror all the outrages thus offered to our lord, whether by neglect, irreverence, and omission of what was due to him; by open contempt, abuse, and the most awful sacrileges; by the worship of worldly idols; by spiritual darkness and false knowledge; or, finally, by error, incredulity, fanaticism, hatred, and open persecution. among these men i saw many who were blind, paralysed, deaf, and dumb, and even children;--blind men who would not see the truth; paralytic men who would not advance, according to its directions, on the road leading to eternal live; deaf men who refused to listen to its warnings and threats; dumb men who would never use their voices in its defence; and, finally, children who were led astray by following parents and teachers filled with the love of the world and forgetfulness of god, who were fed on earthly luxuries, drunk with false wisdom, and loathing all that pertained to religion. among the latter, the sight of whom grieved me especially, because jesus so loved children, i saw many irreverent, ill-behaved acolytes, who did not honour our lord in the holy ceremonies in which they took a part. i beheld with terror that many priests, some of whom even fancied themselves full of faith and piety, also outraged jesus in the adorable sacrament. i saw many who believed and taught the doctrine of the real presence, but did not sufficiently take it to heart, for they forgot and neglected the palace, throne, and seat of the living god, that is to say, the church, the altar, the tabernacle, the chalice, the monstrance, the vases and ornaments; in one word, all that is used in his worship, or to adorn his house. entire neglect reigned everywhere, all things were left to moulder away in dust and filth, and the worship of god was, if not inwardly profaned, at least outwardly dishonoured. nor did this arise from real poverty, but from indifference, sloth, preoccupation of mind about vain earthly concerns, and often also from egotism and spiritual death; for i saw neglect of this kind in churches the pastors and congregations of which were rich, or at east tolerably well off. i saw many others in which worldly, tasteless, unsuitable ornaments had replaced the magnificent adornments of a more pious age. i saw that often the poorest of men were better lodged in their cottages than the master of heaven and earth in his churches. ah, how deeply did the inhospitality of men grieve jesus, who had given himself to them to be their food! truly, there is no need to be rich in order to receive him who rewards a hundredfold the glass of cold water given to the thirsty; but how shameful is not our conduct when in giving drink to the divine lord, who thirst for our souls, we give him corrupted water in a filthy glass! in consequence of all this neglect, i saw the weak scandalised, the adorable sacrament profaned, the churches deserted, and the priests despised. this state of impurity and negligence extended even to the souls of the faithful, who left the tabernacle of their hearts unprepared and uncleansed when jesus was about to enter them, exactly the same as they left his tabernacle on the altar. were i to speak for an entire year, i would never detail all the insults offered to jesus in the adorable sacrament which were made known to me in this way. i saw their authors assault jesus in bands, and strike him with different arms, corresponding to their various offences. i saw irreverent christians of all ages, careless or sacrilegious priests, crowds of tepid and unworthy communicants, wicked soldiers profaning the sacred vessels, and servants of the devil making use of the holy eucharist in the frightful mysteries of hellish worship. among these bands i saw a great number of theologians, who had been drawn into heresy by their sins, attacking jesus in the holy sacrament of his church, and snatching out of his heart, by their seductive words and promises, a number of souls for whom he had shed his blood. ah! it was indeed an awful sight, for i saw the church as the body of christ; and all these bands of men, who were separating themselves from the church, mangled and tore off whole pieces of his living flesh. alas! he looked at them in the most touching manner, and lamented that they should thus cause their own eternal loss. he had given his own divine self to us for our food in the holy sacrament, in order to unite in one body--that of the church, his spouse--men who were to an infinite extent divided and separated from each other; and now he beheld himself torn and rent in twain in that very body; for his principal work of love, the holy communion, in which men should have been made wholly one, was become, by the malice of false teachers, the subject of separation. i beheld whole nations thus snatched out of his bosom, and deprived of any participation in the treasure of graces left to the church. finally, i saw all who were separated from the church plunged into the depths of infidelity, superstition, heresy, and false worldly philosophy; and they gave vent to their fierce rage by joining together in large bodies to attack the church, being urged on by the serpent which was disporting itself in the midst of them. alas! it was as though jesus himself had been torn in a thousand pieces! so great was my horror and terror, that my heavenly spouse appeared to me, and mercifully placed his hand upon my heart, saying: 'no one has yet seen all these things, and thy heart would burst with sorrow if i did not give thee strength.' i saw the blood flowing in large drops down the pale face of our saviour, his hair matted together, and his beard bloody and entangled. after the vision which i have last described, he fled, so to speak, out of the cave, and returned to his disciples. but he tottered as he walked; his appearance was that of a man covered with wounds and bending beneath a heavy burden, and he stumbled at every step. when he came up to the three apostles, they were not lying down asleep as they had been the first time, but their heads were covered, and they had sunk down on their knees, in an attitude often assumed by the people of that country when in sorrow or desiring to pray. they had fallen asleep, overpowered by grief and fatigue. jesus, trembling and groaning, drew nigh to them, and they awoke. but when, by the light of the moon, they saw him standing before them, his face pale and bloody, and his hair in disorder, their weary eyes did not at the first moment recognise him, for he was indescribably changed. he clasped his hands together, upon which they arose and lovingly supported him in their arms, and he told them in sorrowful accents that the next day he should be put to death,--that in one hour's time he should be seized, led before a tribunal, maltreated, outraged, scourged, and finally put to a most cruel death. he besought them to console his mother, and also magdalen. they made no reply, for they knew not what to say, so greatly had his appearance and language alarmed them, and they even thought his mind must be wandering. when he desired to return to the grotto, he had not strength to walk. i saw john and james lead him back, and return when he had entered the grotto. it was then about a quarter-past eleven. during this agony of jesus, i saw the blessed virgin also overwhelmed with sorrow and anguish of soul, in the house of mary, the mother of mark. she was with magdalen and mary in the garden belonging to the house, and almost prostrate from grief, with her whole body bowed down as she knelt. she fainted several times, for she beheld in spirit different portions of the agony of jesus. she had sent some messengers to make inquiries concerning him, but her deep anxiety would not suffer her to await their return, and she went with magdalen and salome as far as the valley of josaphat. she walked along with her head veiled, and her arms frequently stretched forth towards mount olivet; for she beheld in spirit jesus bathed in a bloody sweat, and her gestures were as though she wished with her extended hands to wipe the face of her son. i saw these interior movements of her soul towards jesus, who thought of her, and turned his eyes in her direction, as if to seek her assistance. i beheld the spiritual communication which they had with each other, under the form of rays passing to and fro between them. our divine lord thought also of magdalen, was touched by her distress, and therefore recommended his apostles to console her; for he knew that her love for his adorable person was greater than that felt for him by any one save his blessed mother, and he foresaw that she would suffer much for his sake, and never offend him more. about this time, the eight apostles returned to the arbour of gethsemani, and after talking together for some time, ended by going to sleep. they were wavering, discouraged, and sorely tempted. they had each been seeking for a place of refuge in case of danger, and they anxiously asked one another, 'what shall we do when they have put him to death? we have left all to follow him; we are poor and the offscouring of the world, we gave ourselves up entirely to his service, and now he is so sorrowful and so defected himself, that he can afford us no consolation.' the other disciples had at first wandered about in various directions, but then, having heard something concerning the awful prophecies which jesus had made, they had nearly all retired to bethphage. i saw jesus still praying in the grotto, struggling against the repugnance to suffering which belonged to human nature, and abandoning himself wholly to the will of this eternal father. here the abyss opened before him, and he had a vision of the first part of limbo. he saw adam and eve, the patriarchs, prophets, and just men, the parents of his mother, and john the baptist, awaiting his arrival in the lower world with such intense longing, that the sight strengthened and gave fresh courage to his loving heart. his death was to open heaven to these captives,--his death was to deliver them out of that prison in which they were languishing in eager hope! when jesus had, with deep emotion, looked upon these saints of antiquity, angels presented to him all the bands of saints of future ages, who, joining their labours to the merits of his passion, were, through him, to be united to his heavenly father. most beautiful and consoling was this vision, in which he beheld the salvation and sanctification flowing forth in ceaseless streams from the fountain of redemption opened by his death. the apostles, disciples, virgins, and holy women, the martyrs, confessors, hermits, popes, and bishops, and large bands of religious of both sexes--in one word, the entire army of the blessed--appeared before him. all bore on their heads triumphal crowns, and the flowers of their crowns differed in form, in colour, in odour, and in perfection, according to the difference of the sufferings, labours and victories which had procured them eternal glory. their whole life, and all their actions, merits, and power, as well as all the glory of their triumph, came solely from their union with the merits of jesus christ. the reciprocal influence exercised by these saints upon each other, and the manner in which they all drank from one sole fountain--the adorable sacrament and the passion of our lord--formed a most touching and wonderful spectacle. nothing about them was devoid of deep meaning,--their works, martyrdom, victories, appearance, and dress,--all, though indescribably varied, was confused together in infinite harmony and unity; and this unity in diversity was produced by the rays of one single sun, by the passion of the lord, of the word made flesh, in whom was life, the light of men, which shined in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. the army of the future saints passed before the soul of our lord, which was thus placed between the desiring patriarchs, and the triumphant band of the future blessed, and these two armies joining together, and completing one another, so to speak, surrounded the loving heart of our saviour as with a crown of victory. this most affecting and consoling spectacle bestowed a degree of strength and comfort upon the soul of jesus. ah! he so loved his brethren and creatures that, to accomplish the redemption of one single soul, he would have accepted with joy all the sufferings to which he was now devoting himself. as these visions referred to the future, they were diffused to a certain height in the air. but these consoling visions faded away, and the angels displayed before him the scenes of his passion quite close to the earth, because it was near at hand. i beheld every scene distinctly portrayed, from the kiss of judas to the last words of jesus on the cross, and i saw in this single vision all that i see in my meditations on the passion. the treason of judas, the flight of the disciples, the insults which were offered our lord before annas and caiphas, peter's denial, the tribunal of pilate, herod's mockery, the scourging and crowning with thorns, the condemnation to death, the carrying of the cross, the linen cloth presented by veronica, the crucifixion, the insults of the pharisees, the sorrows of mary, of magdalen, and of john, the wound of the lance in his side, after death;--in one word, every part of the passion was shown to him in the minutest detail. he accepted all voluntarily, submitting to everything for the love of man. he saw also and felt the sufferings endured at that moment by his mother, whose interior union with his agony was so entire that she had fainted in the arms of her two friends. when the visions of the passion were concluded, jesus fell on his face like one at the point of death; the angels disappeared, and the bloody sweat became more copious, so that i saw it had soaked his garment. entire darkness reigned in the cavern, when i beheld an angel descent to jesus. this angel was of higher stature than any whom i had before beheld, and his form was also more distinct and more resembling that of a man. he was clothed like a priest in a long floating garment, and bore before him, in his hands, a small vase, in shape resembling the chalice used at the last supper. at the top of this chalice, there was a small oval body, about the size of a bean, and which diffused a reddish light. the angel, without touching the earth with his feet, stretched forth his right hand to jesus, who arose, when he placed the mysterious food in his mouth, and gave him to drink from the luminous chalice. then he disappeared. jesus having freely accepted the chalice of his sufferings, and received new strength, remained some minutes longer in the grotto, absorbed in calm meditation, and returning thanks to his heavenly father. he was still in deep affliction of spirit, but supernaturally comforted to such a degree as to be able to go to his disciples without tottering as he walked, or bending beneath the weight of his sufferings. his countenance was still pale and altered, but his step was firm and determined. he had wiped his face with a linen cloth, and rearranged his hair, which hung about his shoulders, matted together and damp with blood. when jesus came to his disciples, they were lying, as before, against the wall of the terrace, asleep, and with their heads covered. our lord told them that then was not the time for sleep, but that they should arise and pray: 'behold the hour is at hand, and the son of man shall be betrayed into the hand of sinners,' he said: 'arise, let us go, behold he is at hand that will betray me. it were better for him, if that man had not been born.' the apostles arose in much alarm, and looked round with anxiety. when they had somewhat recovered themselves, peter said warmly: 'lord, i will call the others, that so we may defend thee.' but jesus pointed out to them at some distance in the valley, on the other side of the brook of cedron, a band of armed men, who were advancing with torches, and he said that one of their number had betrayed him. he spoke calmly, exhorted them to console his mother, and said: 'let us go to meet them--i shall deliver myself up without resistance into the hands of my enemies.' he then left the garden of olives with the three apostles, and went to meet the archers on the road which led from that garden to gethsemani. when the blessed virgin, under the care of magdalen and salome, recovered her senses, some disciples, who had seen the soldiers approaching, conducted her back to the house of mary, the mother of mark. the archers took a shorter road than that which jesus followed when he left the supper-room. the grotto in which jesus had this day prayed was not the one where he usually prayed on mount olivet. he commonly went to a cabin at a greater distance off, where, one day, after having cursed the barren fig-tree, he had prayed in great affliction of spirit, with his arms stretched out, and leaning against a rock. the traces of his body and hands remained impressed on the stone, and were honoured later. but it was not known on what occasion the miracle had taken place. i have several times seen similar impressions left upon the stone, either by the prophets of the old testament, or by jesus, mary, or some of the apostles, and i have also seen those made by the body of st. catherine on mount sinai. these impressions do not seem deep, but resemble what would be made upon a thick piece of dough, if a person leaned his hand upon it. chapter ii. judas and his band. judas had not expected that his treason would have produced such fatal results. he had been anxious to obtain the promised reward, and to please the pharisees by delivering up jesus into their hands, but he had never calculated on things going so far, or thought that the enemies of his master would actually bring him to judgment and crucify him; his mind was engrossed with the love of gain alone, and some astute pharisees and sadducees, with whom he had established an intercourse, had constantly urged him on to treason by flattering him. he was sick of the fatiguing, wandering, and persecuted life which the apostles led. for several months past he had continually stolen from the alms which were consigned to his care, and his avarice, grudging the expenses incurred by magdalen when she poured the precious ointment on the feet of our lord, incited him to the commission of the greatest of crimes. he had always hoped that jesus would establish a temporal kingdom, and bestow upon him some brilliant and lucrative post in it, but finding himself disappointed, he turned his thoughts to amassing a fortune. he saw that sufferings and persecutions were on the increase for our lord and his followers, and he sought to make friends with the powerful enemies of our saviour before the time of danger, for the saw that jesus did not become a king, whereas the actual dignity and power of the high priest, and of all who were attached to his service, made a very strong impression upon his mind. he began to enter by degrees into a close connection with their agents, who were constantly flattering him, and assuring him in strong terms that, in any case, an end would speedily be put to the career of our divine lord. he listened more and more eagerly to the criminal suggestions of his corrupt heart, and he had done nothing during the last few days but go backwards and forwards in order to induce the chief priests to come to some agreement. but they were unwilling to act at once, and treated him with contempt. they said that sufficient time would not intervene before the festival day, and that there would be a tumult among the people. the sanhedrin alone listened to his proposals with some degree of attention. after judas had sacrilegiously received the blessed sacrament, satan took entire possession of him, and he went off at once to complete his crime. he in the first place sought those persons who had hitherto flattered and entered into agreements with him, and who still received him with pretended friendship. some others joined the party, and among the number annas and caiphas, but the latter treated him with considerable pride and scorn. all these enemies of christ were extremely undecided and far from feeling any confidence of success, because they mistrusted judas. i saw the empire of hell divided against itself; satan desired the crime of the jews, and earnestly longed for the death of jesus, the converter of souls, the holy teacher, the just man, who was so abhorrent to him; but at the same time he felt an extraordinary interior fear of the death of the innocent victim, who would not conceal himself from his persecutors. i saw him then, on the one hand, stimulate the hatred and fury of the enemies of jesus, and on the other, insinuate to some of their number that judas was a wicked; despicable character, and that the sentence could not be pronounced before the festival, or a sufficient number of witnesses against jesus be gathered together. everyone proposed something different, and some questioned judas, saying: 'shall we be able to take him? has he not armed men with him?' and the traitor replied: 'no, he is alone with eleven disciples; he is greatly depressed, and the eleven are timid men.' he told them that now or never was the time to get possession of the person of jesus, that later he might no longer have it in his power to give our lord up into their hands, and that perhaps he should never return to him again, because for several days past it had been very clear that the other disciples and jesus himself suspected and would certainly kill him if he returned to them. he told them likewise that if they did not at once seize the person of jesus, he would make his escape, and return with an army of his partisans, to have himself proclaimed king. these threats of judas produced some effect, his proposals were acceded to, and he received the price of this treason--thirty pieces of silver. these pieces were oblong, with holes in their sides, strung together by means of rings in a kind of chain, and bearing certain impressions. judas could not help being conscious that they regarded him with contempt and distrust, for their language and gestures betrayed their feelings, and pride suggested to him to give back the money as an offering for the temple, in order to make them suppose his intentions to have been just and disinterested. but they rejected his proposal, because the price of blood could not be offered in the temple. judas saw how much they despised him, and his rage was excessive. he had not expected to reap the bitter fruits of his treason even before it was accomplished, but he had gone so far with these men that he was in their power, and escape was no longer possible. they watched him carefully, and would not let him leave their presence, until he had shown them exactly what steps were to be taken in order to secure the person of jesus. three pharisees accompanied him when he went down into a room where the soldiers of the temple (some only of whom were jews, and the rest of various nations) were assembled. when everything was settled, and the necessary number of soldiers gathered together, judas hastened first to the supper-room, accompanied by a servant of the pharisees, for the purpose of ascertaining whether jesus had left, as they would have seized his person there without difficulty, if once they had secured the doors. he agreed to send them a messenger with the required information. a short time before when judas had received the price of this treason, a pharisee had gone out, and sent seven slaves to fetch wood with which to prepare the cross for our saviour, in case he should be judged, because the next day there would not be sufficient time on account of the commencement of the paschal festivity. they procured this wood from a spot about three-quarters of a mile distant, near a high wall, where there was a great quantity of other wood belonging to the temple, and dragged it to a square situated behind the tribunal of caiphas. the principal piece of the cross came from a tree formerly growing in the valley of josaphat, near the torrent of cedron, and which, having fallen across the stream, had been used as a sort of bridge. when nehemias hid the sacred fire and the holy vessels in the pool of bethsaida, it had been thrown over the spot, together with other pieces of wood,--then later taken away, and left on one side. the cross was prepared in a very peculiar manner, either with the object of deriding the royalty of jesus, or from what men might term chance. it was composed of five pieces of wood, exclusive of the inscription. i saw many other things concerning the cross, and the meaning of different circumstances was also made known to me, but i have forgotten all that. judas returned, and said that jesus was no longer in the supper-room, but that he must certainly be on mount olivet, in the spot where he was accustomed to pray. he requested that only a small number of men might be sent with him, lest the disciples who were on the watch should perceive anything and raise a sedition. three hundred men were to be stationed at the gates and in the streets of ophel, a part of the town situated to the south of the temple, and along the valley of millo as far as the house of annas, on the top of mount sion, in order to be ready to send reinforcements if necessary, for, he said, all the people of the lower class of ophel were partisans of jesus. the traitor likewise bade them be careful, lest he should escape them--since he, by mysterious means, had so often hidden himself in the mountain, and made himself suddenly invisible to those around. he recommended them, besides, to fasten him with a chain, and make use of certain magical forms to prevent his breaking it. the jews listened to all these pieces of advice with scornful indifference, and replied, 'if we once have him in our hands, we will take care not to let him go.' judas next began to make his arrangements with those who were to accompany him. he wished to enter the garden before them, and embrace and salute jesus as if he were returning to him as his friend and disciple, and then for the soldiers to run forward and seize the person of jesus. he was anxious that it should be thought they had come there by chance, that so, when they had made their appearance, he might run away like the other disciples and be no more heard of. he likewise thought that, perhaps, a tumult would ensue, that the apostles might defend themselves, and jesus pass through the midst of his enemies, as he had so often done before. he dwelt upon these thoughts especially, when his pride was hurt by the disdainful manner of the jews in his regard; but he did not repent, for he had wholly given himself up to satan. it was his desire also that the soldiers following him should not carry chains and cords, and his accomplices pretended to accede to all his wishes, although in reality they acted with him as with a traitor who was not to be trusted, but to be cast off as soon as he had done what was wanted. the soldiers received orders to keep close to judas, watch him carefully, and not let him escape until jesus was seized, for he had received his reward, and it was feared that he might run off with the money, and jesus not be taken after all, or another be taken in his place. the band of men chosen to accompany judas was composed of twenty soldiers, selected from the temple guard and from others of the military who were under the orders of annas and caiphas. they were dressed very much like the roman soldiers, had morions (crested metal helmets) like them, and wore hanging straps round their thighs, but their beards were long, whereas the roman soldiers at jerusalem had whiskers only, and shaved their chins and upper lips. they all had swords, some of them being also armed with spears, and they carried sticks with lanterns and torches; but when they set off they only lighted one. it had at first been intended that judas should be accompanied by a more numerous escort, but he drew their attention to the fact that so large a number of men would be too easily seen, because mount olivet commanded a view of the whole valley. most of the soldiers remained, therefore, at ophel, and sentinels were stationed on all sides to put down any attempt which might be made to release jesus. judas set off with the twenty soldiers, but he was followed at some distance by four archers, who were only common bailiffs, carrying cords and chains, and after them came the six agents with whom judas had been in communication for some time. one of these was a priest and a confidant of annas, a second was devoted to caiphas, the third and fourth were pharisees, and the other two sadducees and herodians. these six men were courtiers of annas and caiphas, acting in the capacity of spies, and most bitter enemies of jesus. the soldiers remained on friendly terms with judas until they reached the spot where the road divides the garden of olives from the garden of gethsemani, but there they refused to allow him to advance alone, and entirely changed their manner, treating him with much insolence and harshness. chapter iii. jesus is arrested. jesus was standing with his three apostles on the road between gethsemani, and the garden of olives, when judas and the band who accompanied him made their appearance. a warm dispute arose between judas and the soldiers, because he wished to approach first and speak to jesus quietly as if nothing was the matter, and then for them to come up and seize our saviour, thus letting him suppose that he had no connection with the affair. but the men answered rudely, 'not so, friend, thou shalt not escape from our hands until we have the galilean safely bound,' and seeing the eight apostles who hastened to rejoin jesus when they heard the dispute which was going on, they (notwithstanding the opposition of judas) called up four archers, whom they had left at a little distance, to assist. when by the light of the moon jesus and the three apostles first saw the band of armed men, peter wished to repel them by force of arms, and said: 'lord, the other eight are close at hand, let us attack the archers,' but jesus bade him hold his peace, and then turned and walked back a few steps. at this moment four disciples came out of the garden, and asked what was taking place. judas was about to reply, but the soldiers interrupted, and would not let him speak. these four disciples were james the less, philip, thomas, and nathaniel; the last named, who was a son of the aged simeon, had with a few others joined the eight apostles at gethsemani, being perhaps sent by the friends of jesus to know what was going on, or possibly simply incited by curiosity and anxiety. the other disciples were wandering to and fro, on the look out, and ready to fly at a moment's notice. jesus walked up to the soldiers and said in a firm and clear voice, 'whom seek ye?' the soldiers answered, 'jesus of nazareth.' jesus said to them, 'i am he.' scarcely had he pronounced these words than they all fell to the ground, as if struck with apoplexy. judas, who stood by them, was much alarmed, and as he appeared desirous of approaching, jesus held out his hand and said: 'friend, whereto art thou come?' judas stammered forth something about business which had brought him. jesus answered in few words, the sense of which was: 'it were better for thee that thou hadst never been born;' however, i cannot remember the words exactly. in the mean time, the soldiers had risen, and again approached jesus, but they waited for the sign of the kiss, with which judas had promised to salute his master that they might recognise him. peter and the other disciples surrounded judas, and reviled him in unmeasured terms, calling him thief and traitor; he tried to mollify their wrath by all kinds of lies, but his efforts were vain, for the soldiers came up and offered to defend him, which proceeding manifested the truth at once. jesus again asked, 'whom seek ye?' they replied: 'jesus of nazareth.' jesus made answer, 'i have told you that i am he,' 'if therefore you seek me, let these go their way.' at these words the soldiers fell for the second time to the ground, in convulsions similar to those of epilepsy, and the apostles again surrounded judas and expressed their indignation at his shameful treachery. jesus said to the soldiers, 'arise,' and they arose, but at first quite speechless from terror. they then told judas to give them the signal agreed upon instantly, as their orders were to seize upon no one but him whom judas kissed. judas therefore approached jesus, and gave him a kiss, saying, 'hail rabbi.' jesus replied, 'what, judas, dost thou betray the son of man with a kiss?' the soldiers immediately surrounded jesus, and the archers laid hands upon him. judas wished to fly, but the apostles would not allow it, they rushed at the soldiers and cried out, 'master, shall we strike with the sword?' peter, who was more impetuous than the rest, seized the sword, and struck malchus, the servant of the high priest, who wished to drive away the apostles, and cut off his right ear; malchus fell to the ground, and a great tumult ensued. the archers had seized upon jesus, and wished to bind him; while malchus and the rest of the soldiers stood around. when peter struck the former, the rest were occupied in repulsing those among the disciples who approached too near, and in pursuing those who ran away. four disciples made their appearance in the distance, and looked fearfully at the scene before them; but the soldiers were still too much alarmed at their late fall to trouble themselves much about them, and besides they did not wish to leave our saviour without a certain number of men to guard him. judas fled as soon as he had given the traitorous kiss, but was met by some of the disciples, who overwhelmed him with reproaches. six pharisees, however, came to his rescue, and he escaped whilst the archers were busily occupied in pinioning jesus. when peter struck malchus, jesus said to him, 'put up again thy sword into its place; for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword. thinkest thou that i cannot ask my father, and he will give me presently more than twelve legions of angels? how then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that so it must be done?' then he said, 'let me cure this man;' and approaching malchus, he touched his ear, prayed, and it wad healed. the soldiers who were standing near, as well as the archers and the six pharisees, far from being moved by this miracle, continued to insult our lord, and said to the bystanders, 'it is a trick of the devil, the powers of witchcraft made the ear appear to be cut off, and now the same power gives it the appearance of being healed.' then jesus again addressed them, 'you are come out as it were to a robber, with swords and clubs, to apprehend me. i sat daily with you teaching in the temple, and you laid not hands upon me, but this is your hour and the power of darkness.' the pharisees ordered him to be bound still more strongly, and made answer in a contemptuous tone, 'ah! thou couldst not overthrow us by thy witchcraft.' jesus replied, but i do not remember his words, and all the disciples fled. the four archers and the six pharisees did not fall to the ground at the words of jesus, because, as was afterwards revealed to me, they as well as judas, who likewise did not fall, were entirely in the power of satan, whereas all those who fell and rose again were afterwards converted, and became christians; they had only surrounded jesus, and not laid hands upon him. malchus was instantly converted by the cure wrought upon him, and during the time of the passion his employment was to carry messages backwards and forwards to mary and the other friends of our lord. the archers, who now proceeded to pinion jesus with the greatest brutality, were pagans of the lowest extraction, short, stout, and active, with sandy complexions, resembling those of egyptian slaves, and bare legs, arms, and neck. they tied his hands as tightly as possible with hard new cords, fastening the right-hand wrist under the left elbow, and the left-hand wrist under the right elbow. they encircled his waist with a species of belt studded with iron points, and to this collar were appended two leathern straps, which were crossed over his chest like a stole and fastened to the belt. they then fastened four ropes to different parts of the belt, and by means of these ropes dragged our blessed lord from side to side in the most cruel manner. the ropes were new; i think they were purchased when the pharisees first determined to arrest jesus. the pharisees lighted fresh torches, and the procession started. ten soldiers walked in front, the archers who held the ropes and dragged jesus along, followed, and the pharisees and ten other soldiers brought up the rear. the disciples wandered about at a distance, and wept and moaned as if beside themselves from grief. john alone followed, and walked at no great distance from the soldiers, until the pharisees, seeing him, ordered the guards to arrest him. they endeavoured to obey, but he ran away, leaving in their hands a cloth with which he was covered, and of which they had taken hold when they endeavoured to seize him. he had slipped off his coat, that he might escape more easily from the hands of his enemies, and kept nothing on but a short under garment without sleeves, and the long band which the jews usually wore, and which was wrapped round his neck, head, and arms. the archers behaved in the most cruel manner to jesus as they led him along; this they did to curry favour with the six pharisees, who they well knew perfectly hated and detested our lord. they led him along the roughest road they could select, over the sharpest stones, and through the thickest mire; they pulled the cords as tightly as possible; they struck him with knotted cords, as a butcher would strike the beast he is about to slaughter; and they accompanied this cruel treatment with such ignoble and indecent insults that i cannot recount them. the feet of jesus were bare; he wore, besides the ordinary dress, a seamless woollen garment, and a cloak which was thrown over all. i have forgotten to state that when jesus was arrested, it was done without any order being presented or legal ceremony taking place; he was treated as a person without the pale of the law. the procession proceeded at a good pace; when they left the road which runs between the garden of olives and that of gethsemani, they turned to the right, and soon reached a bridge which was thrown over the torrent of cedron. when jesus went to the garden of olives with the apostles, he did not cross this bridge, but went by a private path which ran through the valley of josaphat, and led to another bridge more to the south. the bridge over which the soldiers led jesus was long, being thrown over not only the torrent, which was very large in this part, but likewise over the valley, which extends a considerable distance to the right and to the left, and is much lower than the bed of the river. i saw our lord fall twice before he reached the bridge, and these falls were caused entirely by the barbarous manner in which the soldiers dragged him; but when they were half over the bridge they gave full vent to their brutal inclination, and struck jesus with such violence that they threw him off the bridge into the water, and scornfully recommended him to quench his thirst there. if god had not preserved him, he must have been killed by this fall; he fell first on his knee, and then on his face, but saved himself a little by stretching out his hands, which, although so tightly bound before, were loosened, i know not whether by miracle, or whether the soldiers had cut the cords before they threw him into the water. the marks of his feet, his elbows, and his fingers were miraculously impressed on the rock on which he fell, and these impressions were afterwards shown for the veneration of christians. these stones were less hard than the unbelieving hearts of the wicked men who surrounded jesus, and bore witness at this terrible moment to the divine power which had touched them. i had not seen jesus take anything to quench the thirst which had consumed him ever since his agony in the garden, but he drank when he fell into the cedron, and i heard him repeat these words from the prophetic psalm, 'in his thirst he will drink water from the torrent' (psalm ). the archers still held the ends of the ropes with which jesus was bound, but it would have been difficult to drag him out of the water on that side, on account of a wall which was built on the shore; they turned back and dragged him quite through the cedron to the shore, and then made him cross the bridge a second time, accompanying their every action with insults, blasphemies, and blows. his long woollen garment, which was quite soaked through, adhered to his legs, impeded every movement, and rendered it almost impossible for him to walk, and when he reached the end of the bridge he fell quite down. they pulled him up again in the most cruel manner, struck him with cords, and fastened the ends of his wet garment to the belt, abusing him at the same time in the most cowardly manner. it was not quite midnight when i saw the four archers inhumanly dragging jesus over a narrow path, which was choked up with stones, garments of rock, thistles, and thorns, on the opposite shore of the cedron. the six brutal pharisees walked as close to our lord as they could, struck him constantly with thick pointed sticks, and seeing that his bare and bleeding feet were torn by the stones and briars, exclaimed scornfully: 'his precursor, john the baptist, has certainly not prepared a good path for him here;' or, 'the words of malachy, "behold, i send my angel before thy face, to prepare the way before thee," do not exactly apply now.' every jest uttered by these men incited the archers to greater cruelty. the enemies of jesus remarked that several persons made their appearance in the distance; they were only disciples who had assembled when they heard that their master was arrested, and who were anxious to discover what the end would be; but the sight of them rendered the pharisees uneasy, lest any attempt should be made to rescue jesus, and they therefore sent for a reinforcement of soldiers. at a very short distance from an entrance opposite to the south side of the temple, which leads through a little village called ophel to mount sion, where the residences of annas and caiphas were situated, i saw a band of about fifty soldiers, who carried torches, and appeared ready for anything; the demeanour of these men was outrageous, and they gave loud shouts, both to announce their arrival, and to congratulate their comrades upon the success of the expedition. this caused a slight confusion among the soldiers who were leading jesus, and malchus and a few others took advantage of it to depart, and fly towards mount olivet. when the fresh band of soldiers left ophel, i saw those disciples who had gathered together disperse; some went one way, and some another. the blessed virgin and about nine of the holy women, being filled with anxiety, directed their steps towards the valley of josaphat, accompanied by lazarus, john the son of mark, the son of veronica, and the son of simon. the last-named was at gethsemani with nathaniel and the eight apostles, and had fled when the soldiers appeared. he was giving the blessed virgin the account of all that had been done, when the fresh band of soldiers joined those who were leading jesus, and she then heard their tumultuous vociferations, and saw the light of the torches they carried. this sight quite overcame her; she became insensible, and john took her into the house of mary, the mother of mark. the fifty soldiers who were sent to join those who had taken jesus, were a detachment from a company of three hundred men posted to guard the gates and environs of ophel; for the traitor judas had reminded the high priests that the inhabitants of ophel (who were principally of the labouring class, and whose chief employment was to bring water and wood to the temple) were the most attached partisans of jesus, and might perhaps make some attempts to rescue him. the traitor was aware that jesus had both consoled, instructed, assisted, and cured the diseases of many of these poor workmen, and that ophel was the place where he halted during his journey from bethania to hebron, when john the baptist had just been executed. judas also knew that jesus had cured many of the masons who were injured by the fall of the tower of siloe. the greatest part of the inhabitants of ophel were converted after the death of our lord, and joined the first christian community that was formed after pentecost, and when the christians separated from the jews and erected new dwellings, they placed their huts and tents in the valley which is situated between mount olivet and ophel, and there st. stephen lived. ophel was on a hill to the south of the temple, surrounded by walls, and its inhabitants were very poor. i think it was smaller than dulmen. the slumbers of the good inhabitants of ophel were disturbed by the noise of the soldiers; they came out of their houses and ran to the entrance of the village to ask the cause of the uproar; but the soldiers received them roughly, ordered them to return home, and in reply to their numerous questions, said, 'we have just arrested jesus, your false prophet--he who has deceived you so grossly; the high priests are about to judge him, and he will be crucified.' cries and lamentations arose on all sides; the poor women and children ran backwards and forwards, weeping and wringing their hands; and calling to mind all the benefits they had received from our lord, they cast themselves on their knees to implore the protection of heaven. but the soldiers pushed them on one side, struck them, obliged them to return to their houses, and exclaimed, 'what farther proof is required? does not the conduct of these persons show plainly that the galilean incites rebellion?' they were, however, a little cautious in their expressions and demeanour for fear of causing an insurrection in ophel, and therefore only endeavoured to drive the inhabitants away from those parts of the village which jesus was obliged to cross. when the cruel soldiers who led our lord were near the gates of ophel he again fell, and appeared unable to proceed a step farther, upon which one among them, being moved to compassion, said to another, 'you see the poor man is perfectly exhausted, he cannot support himself with the weight of his chains; if we wish to get him to the high priest alive we must loosen the cords with which his hands are bound, that he may be able to save himself a little when he falls.' the band stopped for a moment, the fetters were loosened, and another kind-hearted soldier brought some water to jesus from a neighbouring fountain. jesus thanked him, and spoke of the 'fountains of living water,' of which those who believed in him should drink; but his words enraged the pharisees still more, and they overwhelmed him with insults and contumelious language. i saw the heart of the soldier who had caused jesus to be unbound, as also that of the one who brought him water, suddenly illuminated by grace; they were both converted before the death of jesus, and immediately joined his disciples. the procession started again, and reached the gate of ophel. here jesus was again saluted by the cries of grief and sympathy of those who owed him so much gratitude, and the soldiers had considerable difficulty in keeping back the men and women who crowded round from all parts. they clasped their hands, fell on their knees, lamented, and exclaimed, 'release this man unto us, release him! who will assist, who will console us, who will cure our diseases? release him unto us!' it was indeed heart-rending to look upon jesus; his face was white, disfigured, and wounded, his hair dishevelled, his dress wet and soiled, and his savage and drunken guards were dragging him about and striking him with sticks like a poor dumb animal led to the slaughter. thus was he conducted through the midst of the afflicted inhabitants of ophel, and the paralytic whom he had cured, the dumb to whom he had restored speech, and the blind whose eyes he had opened, united, but in vain, in offering supplications for his release. many persons from among the lowest and most degraded classes had been sent by annas, caiphas, and the other enemies of jesus, to join the procession, and assist the soldiers both in ill-treating jesus, and in driving away the inhabitants of ophel. the village of ophel was seated upon a hill, and i saw a great deal of timber placed there ready for building. the procession had to proceed down a hill, and then pass through a door made in the wall. on one side of this door stood a large building erected originally by solomon, and on the other the pool of bethsaida. after passing this, they followed a westerly direction down a steep street called millo, at the end of which a turn to the south brought them to the house of annas. the guards never ceased their cruel treatment of our divine saviour, and excused such conduct by saying that the crowds who gathered together in front of the procession compelled them to severity. jesus fell seven times between mount olivet and the house of annas. the inhabitants of ophel were still in a state of consternation and grief, when the sight of the blessed virgin who passed through the village accompanied by the holy women and some other friends on her way from the valley of cedron to the house of mary the mother of mark, excited them still more, and they made the place re-echo with sobs and lamentations, while they surrounded and almost carried her in their arms. mary was speechless from grief, and did not open her lips after she reached the house of mary the mother of mark, until the arrival of john, who related all he had seen since jesus left the supper-room; and a little later she was taken to the house of martha, which was near that of lazarus. peter and john, who had followed jesus at a distance, went in haste to some servants of the high priest with whom the latter was acquainted, in order to endeavour by their means to obtain admittance into the tribunal where their master was to be tried. these servants acted as messengers, and had just been ordered to go to the houses of the ancients, and other members of the council, to summon them to attend the meeting which was convoked. as they were anxious to oblige the apostles, but foresaw much difficulty in obtaining their admittance into the tribunal, they gave them cloaks similar to those they themselves wore, and made them assist in carrying messages to the members in order that afterwards they might enter the tribunal of caiphas, and mingle, without being recognised, among the soldiers and false witnesses, as all other persons were to be expelled. as nicodemus, joseph of arimathea, and other well-intentioned persons were members of this council, the apostles undertook to let them know what was going to be done in the council, thus securing the presence of those friends of jesus whom the pharisees had purposely omitted to invite. in the mean time judas wandered up and down the steep and wild precipices at the south of jerusalem, despair marked on his every feature, and the devil pursuing him to and fro, filling his imagination with still darker visions, and not allowing him a moment's respite. chapter iv. means employed by the enemies of jesus for carrying out their designs against him. no sooner was jesus arrested than annas and caiphas were informed, and instantly began to arrange their plans with regard to the course to be pursued. confusion speedily reigned everywhere--the rooms were lighted up in haste, guards placed at the entrances, and messengers dispatched to different parts of the town to convoke the members of the council, the scribes, and all who were to take a part in the trial. many among them had, however, assembled at the house of caiphas as soon as the treacherous compact with judas was completed, and had remained there to await the course of events. the different classes of ancients were likewise assembled, and as the pharisees, sadducees, and herodians were congregated in jerusalem from all parts of the country for the celebration of the festival, and had long been concerting measures with the council for the arrest of our lord, the high priests now sent for those whom they knew to be the most bitterly opposed to jesus, and desired them to assemble the witnesses, gather together every possible proof, and bring all before the council. the proud sadducees of nazareth, of capharnaum, of thirza, of gabara, of jotapata, and of silo, whom jesus had so often reproved before the people, were actually dying for revenge. they hastened to all the inns to seek out those persons whom they knew to be enemies of our lord, and offered them bribes in order to secure their appearance. but, with the exception of a few ridiculous calumnies, which were certain to be disproved a soon as investigated, nothing tangible could be brought forward against jesus, excepting, indeed, those foolish accusations which he had so often refuted in the synagogue. the enemies of jesus hastened, however, to the tribunal of caiphas, escorted by the scribes and pharisees of jerusalem, and accompanied by many of those merchants whom our lord drove out of the temple when they were holding market there; as also by the proud doctors whom he had silenced before all the people, and even by some who could not forgive the humiliation of being convicted of error when he disputed with them in the temple at the age of twelve. there was likewise a large body of impenitent sinners whom he had refused to cure, relapsed sinners whose diseases had returned, worldly young men whom he would not receive as disciples, avaricious persons whom he had enraged by causing the money which they had been in hopes of possessing to be distributed in alms. others there were whose friends he had cured, and who had thus been disappointed in their expectations of inheriting property; debauchees whose victims he had converted; and many despicable characters who made their fortunes by flattering and fostering the vices of the great. all these emissaries of satan were overflowing with rage against everything holy, and consequently with an indescribable hatred of the holy of holies. they were farther incited by the enemies of our lord, and therefore assembled in crowds round the palace of caiphas, to bring forward all their false accusations and to endeavour to cover with infamy that spotless lamb, who took upon himself the sins of the world, and accepted the burden in order to reconcile man with god. whilst all these wicked beings were busily consulting as to what was best to be done, anguish and anxiety filled the hearts of the friends of jesus, for they were ignorant of the mystery which was about to be accomplished, and they wandered about, sighing, and listening to every different opinion. each word they uttered gave raise to feelings of suspicion on the part of those who they addressed, and if they were silent, their silence was set down as wrong. many well-meaning but weak and undecided characters yielded to temptation, were scandalised, and lost their fait; indeed, the number of those who persevered was very small indeed. things were the same then as they oftentimes are now, persons were willing to serve god if they met with no opposition from their fellowcreatures, but were ashamed of the cross if held in contempt by others. the hearts of some were, however, touched by the patience displayed by our lord in the midst of his sufferings, and they walked away silent and sad. chapter v. a glance at jerusalem. the customary prayers and preparations for the celebration of the festival being completed, the greatest part of the inhabitants of the densely-populated city of jerusalem, as also the strangers congregated there, were plunged in sleep after the fatigues of the day, when, all at once, the arrest of jesus was announced, and everyone was aroused, both his friends and foes, and numbers immediately responded to the summons of the high priest, and left their dwellings to assemble at his court. in some parts the light of the moon enabled them to grope their way in safety along the dark and gloomy streets, but in other parts they were obliged to make use of torches. very few of the houses were built with their windows looking on the street, and, generally speaking, their doors were in inner courts, which gave the streets a still more gloomy appearance than is usual at this hour. the steps of all were directed towards sion, and an attentive listener might have heard persons stop at the doors of their friends, and knock, in order to awaken them--then hurry on, then again stop to question others, and, finally, set off anew in haste towards sion. newsmongers and servants were hurrying forward to ascertain what was going on; in order that they might return and give the account to those who remained at home; and the bolting and barricading of doors might be plainly heard, as many persons were much alarmed and feared an insurrection, while a thousand different propositions were made and opinions given, such as the following:--'lazarus and his sisters will soon know who is this man in whom they have placed such firm reliance. johanna chusa, susannah, mary the mother of mark, and salome will repent, but too late, the imprudence of their conduct; seraphia, the wife of sirach, will be compelled to make an apology to her husband now, for he has so often reproached her with her partiality for the galilean. the partisans of this fanatical man, this inciter of rebellion, pretended to be filled with compassion for all who looked upon things in a different light from themselves, and now they will not know where to hide their heads. he will find no one now to cast garments and strew olive-branches at his feet. those hypocrites who pretended to be so much better than other persons will receive their deserts, for they are all implicated with the galilean. it is a much more serious business than was at first thought. i should like to know how nicodemus and joseph of arimathea will get out of it; the high priests have mistrusted them for some time; they made common cause with lazarus: but they are extremely cunning. all will now, however, be brought to light.' speeches such as these were uttered by persons who were exasperated, not only against the disciples of jesus, but likewise with the holy women who had supplied his temporal wants, and had publicly and fearlessly expressed their veneration for his doctrines, and their belief in his divine mission. but although many persons spoke of jesus and his followers in this contemptuous manner, yet there were others who held very different opinions, and of these some were frightened, and others, being overcome with sorrow, sought friends to whom they might unburden their hearts, and before whom they could, without fear, give vent to their feelings; but the number of those sufficiently daring openly to avow their admiration for jesus was but small. nevertheless, it was in parts only of jerusalem that these disturbances took place--in those parts where the messengers had been sent by the high priests and the pharisees, to convoke the members of the council and to call together the witnesses. it appeared to me that i saw feelings of hatred and fury burst forth in different parts of the city, under the form of flames, which flames traversed the streets, united with others which they met, and proceeded in the direction of sion, increasing every moment, and at last came to a stop beneath the tribunal of caiphas, where they remained, forming together a perfect whirlwind of fire. the roman soldiers took no part in what was going on; they did not understand the excited feelings of the people, but their sentinels were doubled, their cohorts drawn up, and they kept a strict look out; this, indeed, was customary at the time of the paschal solemnity, on account of the vast number of strangers who were then assembled together. the pharisees endeavoured to avoid the neighbourhood of the sentinels, for fear of being questioned by them, and of contracting defilement by answering their questions. the high priests had sent a message to pilate intimating their reasons for stationing soldiers round ophel and sion; but he mistrusted their intentions, as much ill-feeling existed between the romans and the jews. he could not sleep, but walked about during the greatest part of the night, hearkening to the different reports and issuing orders consequent on what he heard; his wife slept, but her sleep was disturbed by frightful dreams, and she groaned and wept alternately. in no part of jerusalem did the arrest of jesus produce more touching demonstrations of grief than among the poor inhabitants of ophel, the greatest part of whom were daylabourers, and the rest principally employed in menial offices in the service of the temple. the news came unexpectedly upon them; for some time they doubted the truth of the report, and wavered between hope and fear; but the sight of their master, their benefactor, their consoler, dragged through the streets, torn, bruised, and ill-treated in every imaginable way, filled them with horror; and their grief was still farther increased by beholding his afflicted mother wandering about from street to street, accompanied by the holy women, and endeavouring to obtain some intelligence concerning her divine son. these holy women were often obliged to hide in corners and under door-ways for fear of being seen by the enemies of jesus; but even with these precautions they were oftentimes insulted, and taken for women of bad character--their feelings were frequently harrowed by hearing the malignant words and triumphant expressions of the cruel jews, and seldom, very seldom, did a word of kindness or pity strike their ears. they were completely exhausted before reaching their place of refuge, but they endeavoured to console and support one another, and wrapped thick veils over their heads. when at last seated, they heard a sudden knock at the door, and listened breathlessly--the knock was repeated, but softly, therefore they made certain that it was no enemy, and yet they opened the door cautiously, fearing a stratagem. it was indeed a friend, and they issued forth and walked about for a time, and then again returned to their place of refuge--still more heartbroken than before. the majority of the apostles, overcome with terror, were wandering about among the valleys which surround jerusalem, and at times took refuge in the caverns beneath mount olivet. they started if they came in contact with one another, spoke in trembling tones, and separated on the least noise being heard. first they concealed themselves in one cave and then in another, next they endeavoured to return to the town, while some of their number climbed to the top of mount olivet and cast anxious glances at the torches, the light of which they could see glimmering at and about sion; they listened to every distant sound, made a thousand different conjectures, and then returned to the valley, in hopes of getting some certain intelligence. the streets in the vicinity of caiphas's tribunal were brightly illuminated with lamps and torches, but, as the crowds gathered around it, the noise and confusion continued to increase. mingling with these discordant sounds might be heard the bellowing of the beasts which were tethered on the outside of the walls of jerusalem, and the plaintive bleating of the lambs. there was something most touching in the bleating of these lambs, which were to be sacrificed on the following day in the temple,--the one lamb alone who was about to be offered a willing sacrifice opened not his mouth, like a sheep in the hands of the butcher, which resists not, or the lamb which is silent before the shearer; and that lamb was the lamb of god--the lamb without spot--the true paschal lamb--jesus christ himself. the sky looked dark, gloomy, and threatening--the moon was red, and covered with livid spots; it appeared as if dreading to reach its full, because its creator was then to die. next i cast a glance outside the town, and, near the south gate, i beheld the traitor, judas iscariot, wandering about, alone, and a prey to the tortures of his guilty conscience; he feared even his own shadow, and was followed by many devils, who endeavoured to turn his feelings of remorse into black despair. thousands of evil spirits were busying themselves in all parts, tempting men first to one sin and then to another. it appeared as if the gates of hell were flung open, and satan madly striving and exerting his whole energies to increase the heavy load of iniquities which the lamb without spot had taken upon himself. the angels wavered between joy and grief; they desired ardently to fall prostrate before the throne of god, and to obtain permission to assist jesus; but at the same time they were filled with astonishment, and could only adore that miracle of divine justice and mercy which had existed in heaven for all eternity, and was now about to be accomplished; for the angels believe, like us, in god, the father almighty, creator of heaven and earth, and in jesus christ, his only son, our lord, who was conceived by the holy ghost, born of the virgin mary, who began on this night to suffer under pontius pilate, and the next day was to be crucified; to die, and be buried; descend into hell, rise again on the third day, ascent into heaven, be seated at the right hand of god the father almighty, and from thence come to judge the living and the dead; they likewise believe in the holy ghost, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. chapter vi. jesus before annas. it was towards midnight when jesus reached the palace of annas, and his guards immediately conducted him into a very large hall, where annas, surrounded by twentyeight councillors, was seated on a species of platform, raised a little above the level of the floor, and placed opposite to the entrance. the soldiers who first arrested jesus now dragged him roughly to the foot of the tribunal. the room was quite full, between soldiers, the servants of annas, a number of the mob who had been admitted, and the false witnesses who afterwards adjourned to caiphas's hall. annas was delighted at the thought of our lord being brought before him, and was looking out for his arrival with the greatest impatience. the expression of his countenance was most repulsive, as it showed in every lineament not only the infernal joy with which he was filled, but likewise all the cunning and duplicity of this heart. he was the president of a species of tribunal instituted for the purpose of examining persons accused of teaching false doctrines; and if convicted there, they were then taken before the high priest. jesus stood before annas. he looked exhausted and haggard; his garments were covered with mud, his hands manacled, his head bowed down, and he spoke not a word. annas was a thin ill-humoured-looking old man, with a scraggy beard. his pride and arrogance were great; and as he seated himself he smiled ironically, pretending that he knew nothing at all, and that he was perfectly astonished at finding that the prisoner, whom he had just been informed was to be brought before him, was no other than jesus of nazareth. 'is it possible,' said he, 'is it possible that thou art jesus of nazareth? where are thy disciples, thy numerous followers? where is thy kingdom? i fear affairs have not turned out as thou didst expect. the authorities, i presume, discovered that it was quite time to put a stop to thy conduct, disrespectful as it was towards god and his priests, and to such violations of the sabbath. what disciples hast thou now? where are they all gone? thou are silent! speak out, seducer! speak out, thou inciter of rebellion! didst thou not eat the paschal lamb in an unlawful manner, at an improper time, and in an improper place? dost thou not desire to introduce new doctrines? who gave thee the right of preaching? where didst thou study? speak, what are the tenets of thy religion?' jesus then raised his weary head, looked at annas, and said, 'i have spoken openly to the world; i have always taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither all the jews resort; and in secret i have spoken nothing. why askest thou me? ask them who have heard what i have spoken unto them; behold, they know what thing i have said.' at this answer of jesus the countenance of annas flushed with fury and indignation. a base menial who was standing near perceived this, and he immediately struck our lord on the face with his iron gauntlet, exclaiming at the same moment, 'answerest thou the high priest so?' jesus was so nearly prostrated by the violence of the blow, that when the guards likewise reviled and struck him, he fell quite down, and blood trickled from his face on to the floor. laughter, insults, and bitter words resounded through the hall. the archers dragged him roughly up again, and he mildly answered, 'if i have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil; but if well, why strikest thou me?' annas became still more enraged when he saw the calm demeanour of jesus, and, turning to the witnesses, he desired them to bring forward their accusations. they all began to speak at once:--'he has called himself king; he says that god is his father; that the pharisees are an adulterous generation. he causes insurrection among the people; he cures the sick by the help of the devil on the sabbath-day. the inhabitants of ophel assembled round him a short time ago, and addressed him by the titles of saviour and prophet. he lets himself be called the son of god; he says that he is sent by god; he predicts the destruction of jerusalem. he does not fast; he eats with sinners, with pagans, and with publicans, and associates with women of evil repute. a short time ago he said to a man who gave him some water to drink at the gates of ophel, "that he would give unto him the water of eternal life, after drinking which he would thirst no more." he seduces the people by words of double meaning,' etc., etc. these accusations were all vociferated at once; some of the witnesses stood before jesus and insulted him while they spoke by derisive gestures, and the archers went so far as even to strike him, saying at the same time, 'speak; why dost thou not answer?' annas and his adherents added mockery to insult, exclaiming at every pause in the accusations, 'this is thy doctrine, then, is it? what canst thou answer to this? issue thy orders, great king; man sent by god, give proofs of thy mission.' 'who art thou?' continued annas, in a tone of cutting contempt; 'by whom art thou sent? art thou the son of an obscure carpenter, or art thou elias, who was carried up to heaven in a fiery chariot? he is said to be still living, and i have been told that thou canst make thyself invisible when thou pleasest. perhaps thou art the prophet malachy, whose words thou dost so frequently quote. some say that an angel was his father, and that he likewise is still alive. an impostor as thou art could not have a finer opportunity of taking persons in than by passing thyself off as this prophet. tell me, without farther preamble, to what order of kings thou dost belong? thou art greater than solomon,--at least thou pretendest so to be, and dost even expect to be believed. be easy, i will no longer refuse the title and the sceptre which are so justly thy due.' annas then called for the sheet of parchment, about a yard in length, and six inches in width; on this he wrote a series of words in large letters, and each word expressed some different accusation which had been brought against our lord. he then rolled it up, placed it in a little hollow tube, fastened it carefully on the top of a reed, and presented this reed to jesus, saying at the same time, with a contemptuous sneer, 'behold the sceptre of thy kingdom; it contains thy titles, as also the account of the honours to which thou art entitled, and thy right to the throne. take them to the high priest, in order that he may acknowledge thy regal dignity, and treat thee according to thy deserts. tie the hands of this king, and take him before the high priest.' the hands of jesus, which had been loosened, were then tied across his breast in such a manner as to make him hold the pretended sceptre, which contained the accusations of annas, and he was led to the court of caiphas, amidst the hisses, shouts, and blows lavished upon him by the brutal mob. the house of annas was not more than three hundred steps from that of caiphas; there were high walls and common-looking houses on each side of the road, which was lighted up by torches and lanterns placed on poles, and there were numbers of jews standing about talking in an angry excited manner. the soldiers could scarcely make their way through the crowd, and those who had behaved so shamefully to jesus at the court of annas continued their insults and base usage during the whole of the time sent in walking to the house of caiphas. i saw money given to those who behaved the worst to jesus by armed men belonging to the tribunal, and i saw them push out of the way all who looked compassionately at him. the former were allowed to enter the court of caiphas. chapter vii. the tribunal of caiphas. to enter caiphas's tribunal persons had to pass through a large court, which may be called the exterior court; from thence they entered into an inner court, which extended all round the building. the building itself was of far greater length than breadth, and in the front there was a kind of open vestibule surrounded on three sides by columns of no great height. on the fourth side the columns were higher, and behind them was a room almost as large as the vestibule itself, where the seat of the members of the council were placed on a species of round platform raised above the level of the floor. that assigned to the high priest was elevated above the others; the criminal to be tried stood in the centre of the halfcircle formed by the seats. the witnesses and accusers stood either by the side or behind the prisoner. there were three doors at the back of the judges' seats which led into another apartment, filled likewise with seats. this room was used for secret consultation. entrances placed on the right and left hand sides of this room opened into the interior court, which was round, like the back of the building. those who left the room by the door on the righthand side saw on the left-hand side of the court the gate which led to a subterranean prison excavated under the room. there were many underground prisons there, and it was in one of these that peter and john were confined a whole night, when they had cured the lame man in the temple after pentecost. both the house and the courts were filled with torches and lamps, which made them as light as day. there was a large fire lighted in the middle of the porch, on each side of which were hollow pipes to serve as chimneys for the smoke, and round this fire were standing soldiers, menial servants, and witnesses of the lowest class who had received bribes for giving their false testimony. a few women were there likewise, whose employment was to pour out a species of red beverage for the soldiers, and to bake cakes, for which services they received a small compensation. the majority of the judges were already seated around caiphas, the others came in shortly afterwards, and the porch was almost filled, between true and false witnesses, while many other persons likewise endeavoured to come in to gratify their curiosity, but were prevented. peter and john entered the outer court, in the dress of travellers, a short time before jesus was led through, and john succeeded in penetrating into the inner court, by means of a servant with whom he was acquainted. the door was instantly closed after him, therefore peter, who was a little behind, was shut out. he begged the maid-servant to open the door for him, but she refused both his entreaties and those of john, and he must have remained on the outside had not nicodemus and joseph of arimathea, who came up at this moment, taken him with them. the two apostles then returned the cloaks which they had borrowed, and stationed themselves in a place from whence they could see the judges, and hear everything that was going on. caiphas was seated in the centre of the raised platform, and seventy of the members of the sanhedrin were placed around him, while the public officers, the scribes, and the ancients were standing on either side, and the false witnesses behind them. soldiers were posted from the base of the platform to the door of the vestibule through which jesus was to enter. the countenance of caiphas was solemn in the extreme, but the gravity was accompanied by unmistakable signs of suppressed rage and sinister intentions. he wore a long mantle of a dull red colour, embroidered in flowers and trimmed with golden fringe; it was fastened at the shoulders and on the chest, besides being ornamented in the front with gold clasps. his head-attire was high, and adorned with hanging ribbons, the sides were open, and it rather resembled a bishop's mitre. caiphas had been waiting with his adherents belonging to the great council for some time, and so impatient was he that he arose several times, went into the outer court in his magnificent dress, and asked angrily whether jesus of nazareth was come. when he saw the procession drawing near he returned to his seat. chapter viii. jesus before caiphas. jesus was led across the court, and the mob received him with groans and hisses. as he passed by peter and john, he looked at them, but without turning his head, for fear of betraying them. scarcely had he reached the council-chamber, than caiphas exclaimed in a loud tone, 'thou art come, then, at last, thou enemy of god, thou blasphemer, who dost disturb the peace of this holy night!' the tube which contained the accusations of annas, and was fastened to the pretended sceptre in the hands of jesus, was instantly opened and read. caiphas made use of the most insulting language, and the archers again struck and abused our lord, vociferating at the same time, 'answer at once! speak out! art thou dumb?' caiphas, whose temper was indescribably proud and arrogant, became even more enraged than annas had been, and asked a thousand questions one after the other, but jesus stood before him in silence, and with his eyes cast down. the archers endeavoured to force him to speak by repeated blows, and a malicious child pressed his thumb into his lips, tauntingly bidding him to bite. the witnesses were then called for. the first were persons of the lowest class, whose accusations were as incoherent and inconsistent as those brought forward at the court of annas, and nothing could be made out of them; caiphas therefore turned to the principal witnesses, the pharisees and the sadducees, who had assembled from all parts of the country. they endeavoured to speak calmly, but their faces and manner betrayed the virulent envy and hatred with which their hearts were overflowing, and they repeated over and over again the same accusations, to which he had already replied so many times: 'that he cured the sick, and cast out devils, by the help of devils--that he profaned the sabbath--incited the people to rebel--called the pharisees a race of vipers and adulterers--predicted the destruction of jerusalem--frequented the society of publicans and sinners--assembled the people and gave himself out as a king, a prophet, and the son of god.' they deposed 'that he was constantly speaking of his kingdom,--that he forbade divorce,--called himself the bread of life, and said that whoever did not eat his flesh and drink his blood would not have eternal life.' thus did they distort and misinterpret the words he had uttered, the instructions he had given and the parables by which he had illustrated his instructions, giving them the semblance of crimes. but these witnesses could not agree in their depositions, for one said, 'he calls himself king;' and a second instantly contradicted, saying, 'no, he allows persons to call him so; but directly they attempted to proclaim him, he fled.' another said, 'he calls himself the son of god,' but he was interrupted by a fourth, who exclaimed, 'no, he only styles himself the son of god because he does the will of his heavenly father.' some of the witnesses stated that he had cured them, but that their diseases had returned, and that his pretended cures were only performed by magic. they spoke likewise of the cure of the paralytic man at the pool of bethsaida, but they distorted the facts so as to give them the semblance of crimes, and even in these accusations they could not agree, contradicting one another. the pharisees of sephoris, with whom he had once had a discussion on the subject of divorces, accused him of teaching false doctrines, and a young man of nazareth, whom he had refused to allow to become one of his disciples, was likewise base enough to bear witness against him. it was found to be utterly impossible to prove a single fact, and the witnesses appeared to come forward for the sole purpose of insulting jesus, rather than to demonstrate the truth of their statements. whilst they were disputing with one another, caiphas and some of the other members of the council employed themselves in questioning jesus, and turning his answers into derision. 'what species of king art thou? give proofs of thy power! call the legions of angels of whom thou didst speak in the garden of olives! what hast thou done with the money given unto thee by the widows, and other simpletons whom thou didst seduce by thy false doctrines? answer at once: speak out,--art thou dumb? thou wouldst have been far wiser to have kept silence when in the midst of the foolish mob: there thou didst speak far too much.' all these questions were accompanied by blows from the under-servants of the members of the tribunal, and had our lord not been supported from above, he could not have survived this treatment. some of the base witnesses endeavoured to prove that he was an illegitimate son; but others declared that his mother was a pious virgin, belonging to the temple, and that they afterwards saw her betrothed to a man who feared god. the witnesses upbraided jesus and his disciples with not having offered sacrifice in the temple. it is true that i never did see either jesus or his disciples offer any sacrifice in the temple, excepting the paschal lamb; but joseph and anna used frequently during their lifetime to offer sacrifice for the child jesus. however, even this accusation was puerile, for the essenians never offered sacrifice, and no one thought the less well of them for not doing so. the enemies of jesus still continued to accuse him of being a sorcerer, and caiphas affirmed several times that the confusion in the statements of the witnesses was caused solely by witchcraft. some said that he had eaten the paschal lamb on the previous day, which was contrary to the law, and that the year before he had made different alterations in the manner of celebrating this ceremony. but the witnesses contradicted one another to such a degree that caiphas and his adherents found, to their very great annoyance and anger, that not one accusation could be really proved. nicodemus and joseph of arimathea were called up, and being commanded to say how it happened that they had allowed him to eat the pasch on the wrong day in a room which belonged to them, they proved from ancient documents that from time immemorial the galileans had been allowed to eat the pasch a day earlier than the rest of the jews. they added that every other part of the ceremony had been performed according to the directions given in the law, and that persons belonging to the temple were present at the supper. this quite puzzled the witnesses, and nicodemus increased the rage of the enemies of jesus by pointing out the passages in the archives which proved the right of the galileans, and gave the reason for which this privilege was granted. the reason was this: the sacrifices would not have been finished by the sabbath if the immense multitudes who congregated together for that purpose had all been obliged to perform the ceremony on the same day; and although the galileans had not always profited by this right, yet its existence was incontestably proved by nicodemus; and the anger of the pharisees was heightened by his remarking that the members of the council had cause to be greatly offended at the gross contradictions in the statements of the witnesses, and that the extraordinary and hurried manner in which the whole affair had been conducted showed that malice and envy were the sole motives which induced the accusers, and made them bring the case forward at a moment when all were busied in the preparations for the most solemn feast of the year. they looked at nicodemus furiously, and could not reply, but continued to question the witnesses in a still more precipitate and imprudent manner. two witnesses at last came forward, who said, 'this man said, "i will destroy this temple made with hands, and within three days i will build another not made with hands;"' however, even these witnesses did not agree in their statements, for one said that the accused wished to build a new temple, and that he had eaten the pasch in an unusual place, because he desired the destruction of the ancient temple; but the other said, 'not so: the edifice where he ate the pasch was built by human hands, therefore he could not have referred to that.' the wrath of caiphas was indescribable; for the cruel treatment which jesus had suffered, his divine patience, and the contradiction of the witnesses, were beginning to make a great impression on many persons present, a few hisses were heard, and the hearts of some were so touched that they could not silence the voice of their consciences. ten soldiers left the court under pretext of indisposition, but in reality overcome by their feelings. as they passed by the place where peter and john were standing, they exclaimed, 'the silence of jesus of nazareth, in the midst of such cruel treatment, is superhuman: it would melt a heart of iron: the wonder is, that the earth does not open and swallow such reprobates as his accusers must be. but tell us, where must we go?' the two apostles either mistrusted the soldiers, and thought they were only seeking to betray them, or they were fearful of being recognised by those around and denounced as disciples of jesus, for they only made answer in a melancholy tone: 'if truth calls you, follow it, and all will come right of itself.' the soldiers instantly went out of the room, and left jerusalem soon after. they met persons on the outskirts of the town, who directed them to the caverns which lay to the south of jerusalem, on the other side of mount sion, where many of the apostles had taken refuge. these latter were at first alarmed at seeing strangers enter their hiding-place; but the soldiers soon dispelled all fear, and gave them an account of the sufferings of jesus. the temper of caiphas, which was already perturbed, became quite infuriated by the contradictory statements of the two last witnesses, and rising from his seat he approached jesus, and said: 'answerest thou nothing to the things which these witness against thee?' jesus neither raised his head nor looked at the high priest, which increased the anger of the latter to the greatest degree; and the archers perceiving this seized our lord by the hair, pulled his head back, and gave him blows under the chin; but he still kept his eyes cast down. caiphas raised his hands, and exclaimed in an enraged tone: 'i adjure thee by the living god that thou tell us if thou be christ the messiah, the son of the living god?' a momentary and solemn pause ensued. then jesus in a majestic and superhuman voice replied, 'thou hast said it. nevertheless i say to you, hereafter you shall see the son of man sitting on the right hand of the power of god, and coming in the clouds of heaven.' whilst jesus was pronouncing these words, a bright light appeared to me to surround him; heaven was opened above his head; i saw the eternal father; but no words from a human pen can describe the intuitive view that was then vouchsafed me of him. i likewise saw the angels, and the prayers of the just ascending to the throne of god. at the same moment i perceived the yawning abyss of hell like a fiery meteor at the feet of caiphas; it was filled with horrible devils; a slight gauze alone appeared to separate him from its dark flames. i could see the demoniacal fury with which his heart was overflowing, and the whole house looked to me like hell. at the moment that our lord pronounced the solemn words, 'i am the christ, the son of the living god,' hell appeared to be shaken from one extremity to the other, and then, as it were, to burst forth and inundate every person in the house of caiphas with feelings of redoubled hatred towards our lord. these things are always shown to me under the appearance of some material object, which renders them less difficult of comprehension, and impresses them in a more clear and forcible manner on the mind, because we ourselves being material beings, facts are more easily illustrated in our regard if manifested through the medium of the senses. the despair and fury which these words produced in hell were shown to me under the appearance of a thousand terrific figures in different places. i remember seeing, among other frightful things, a number of little black objects, like dogs with claws, which walked on their hind legs; i knew at the time what kind of wickedness was indicated by this apparition, but i cannot remember now. i saw these horrible phantoms enter into the bodies of the greatest part of the bystanders, or else place themselves on their head or shoulders. i likewise at this moment saw frightful spectres come out of the sepulchres on the other side of sion; i believe they were evil spirits. i saw in the neighbourhood of the temple many other apparitions, which resembled prisoners loaded with chains: i do not know whether they were demons, or souls condemned to remain in some particular part of the earth, and who were then going to limbo, which our lord's condemnation to death had opened to them. it is extremely difficult to explain these facts, for fear of scandalising those who have no knowledge of such things; but persons who see feel them, and they often cause the very hair to stand on end on the head. i think that john saw some of these apparitions, for i heard him speak about them afterwards. all whose hearts were not radically corrupted felt excessively terrified at these events, but the hardened were sensible of nothing but an increase of hatred and anger against our lord. caiphas then arose, and, urged on by satan, took up the end of his mantle, pierced it with his knife, and rent it from one end to the other, exclaiming at the same time, in a loud voice, 'he hath blasphemed, what further need have we of witnesses? behold, now you have heard the blasphemy: what think you?' all who were then present arose, and exclaimed with astounding malignancy, 'he is guilty of death!' during the whole of this frightful scene, the devils were in the most tremendous state of excitement; they appeared to have complete possession not only of the enemies of jesus, but likewise of their partisans and cowardly followers. the powers of darkness seemed to me to proclaim a triumph over the light, and the few among the spectators whose hearts still retained a glimmering of light were filled with such consternation that, covering their heads, they instantly departed. the witnesses who belonged to the upper classes were less hardened than the others; their consciences were racked with remorse, and they followed the example given by the persons mentioned above, and left the room as quickly as possible, while the rest crowded round the fire in the vestibule, and ate and drank after receiving full pay for their services. the high priest then addressed the archers, and said, 'i deliver this king up into your hands; render the blasphemer the honours which are his due.' after these words he retired with the members of his council into the round room behind the tribunal, which could not be seen from the vestibule. in the midst of the bitter affliction which inundated the heart of john, his thoughts were with the mother of jesus; he feared that the dreadful news of the condemnation of her son might be communicated to her suddenly, or that perhaps some enemy might give the information in a heartless manner. he therefore looked at jesus, and saying in a low voice, 'lord, thou knowest why i leave thee,' went away quickly to seek the blessed virgin, as if he had been sent by jesus himself. peter was quite overcome between anxiety and sorrow, which, joined to fatigue, made him chilly; therefore, as the morning was cold, he went up to the fire where many of the common people were warming themselves. he did his best to hide his grief in their presence, as he could not make up his mind to go home and leave his beloved master. chapter ix. the insults received by jesus in the court of caiphas. no sooner did caiphas, with the other members of the council, leave the tribunal than a crowd of miscreants--the very scum of the people--surrounded jesus like a swarm of infuriated wasps, and began to heap every imaginable insult upon him. even during the trial, whilst the witnesses were speaking, the archers and some others could not restrain their cruel inclinations, but pulled out handfuls of his hair and beard, spat upon him, struck him with their fists, wounded him with sharp-pointed sticks, and even ran needles into his body; but when caiphas left the hall they set no bounds to their barbarity. they first placed a crown, made of straw and the bark of trees, upon his head, and then took it off, saluting him at the same time with insulting expressions, like the following: 'behold the son of david wearing the crown of his father.' 'a greater than solomon is here; this is the king who is preparing a wedding feast for his son.' thus did they turn into ridicule those eternal truths which he had taught under the from of parables to those whom he came from heaven to save; and whilst repeating these scoffing words, they continued to strike him with their fists and sticks, and to spit in his face. next they put a crown of reeds upon his head, took off his robe and scapular, and then threw an old torn mantle, which scarcely reached his knees, over his shoulders; around his neck they hung a long iron chain, with an iron ring at each end, studded with sharp points, which bruised and tore his knees as he walked. they again pinioned his arms, put a reed into his hand, and covered his divine countenance with spittle. they had already thrown all sorts of filth over his hair, as well as over his chest, and upon the old mantle. they bound his eyes with a dirty rag, and struck him, crying out at the same time in loud tones, 'prophesy unto us, o christ, who is he that struck thee?' he answered not one word, but sighed, and prayed inwardly for them. after many more insults, they seized the chain which was hanging on his neck, dragged him towards the room into which the council had withdrawn, and with their stick forced him in, vociferating at the same time, 'march forward, thou king of straw! show thyself to the council with the insignia of the regal honours we have rendered unto thee.' a large body of councillors, with caiphas at their head, were still in the room, and they looked with both delight and approbation at the shameful scene which was enacted, beholding with pleasure the most sacred ceremonies turned into derision. the pitiless guards covered him with mud and spittle, and with mock gravity exclaimed, 'receive the prophetic unction--the regal unction.' then they impiously parodied the baptismal ceremonies, and the pious act of magdalen in emptying the vase of perfume on his head. 'how canst thou presume,' they exclaimed, 'to appear before the council in such a condition? thou dost purify others, and thou art not pure thyself; but we will soon purify thee.' they fetched a basin of dirty water, which they poured over his face and shoulders, whilst they bent their knees before him, and exclaimed, 'behold thy precious unction, behold the spikenard worth three hundred pence; thou hast been baptised in the pool of bethsaida.' they intended by this to throw into ridicule the act of respect and veneration shown by magdalen, when she poured the precious ointment over his head, at the house of the pharisee. by their derisive words concerning his baptism in the pool of bethsaida, they pointed out, although unintentionally, the resemblance between jesus and the paschal lamb, for the lambs were washed in the first place in the pond near the probatica gate, and then brought to the pool of bethsaida, where they underwent another purification before being taken to the temple to be sacrificed. the enemies of jesus likewise alluded to the man who had been infirm for thirty-eight years, and who was cured by jesus at the pool of bethsaida; for i saw this man either washed or baptised there; i say either washed or baptised, because i do not exactly remember the circumstances. they then dragged jesus round the room, before all the members of the council, who continued to address him in reproachful and abusive language. every countenance looked diabolical and enraged, and all around was dark, confused, and terrified. our lord, on the contrary, was from the moment that he declared himself to be the son of god, generally surrounded with a halo of light. many of the assembly appeared to have a confused knowledge of this fact, and to be filled with consternation at perceiving that neither outrages or ignominies could alter the majestic expression of his countenance. the halo which shone around jesus from the moment he declared himself to be the christ, the son of the living god, served but to incite his enemies to greater fury, and yet it was so resplendent that they could not look at it, and i believe their intention in throwing the dirty rag over his head was to deaden its brightness. chapter x. the denial of st. peter at the moment when jesus uttered the words, 'thou hast said it,' and the high priest rent his garment, the whole room resounded with tumultuous cries. peter and john, who had suffered intensely during the scene which had just been enacted, and which they had been obliged to witness in silence, could bear the sight no longer. peter therefore got up to leave the room, and john followed soon after. the latter went to the blessed virgin, who was in the house of martha with the holy women, but peter's love for jesus was so great, that he could not make up his mind to leave him; his heart was bursting, and he wept bitterly, although he endeavoured to restrain and hide his tears. it was impossible for him to remain in the tribunal, as his deep emotion at the sight of his beloved master's sufferings would have betrayed him; therefore he went into the vestibule and approached the fire, around which soldiers and common people were sitting and talking in the most heartless and disgusting manner concerning the sufferings of jesus, and relating all that they themselves had done to him. peter was silent, but his silence and dejected demeanour made the bystanders suspect something. the portress came up to the fire in the midst of the conversation, cast a bold glance at peter and said, 'thou also wast with jesus the galilean.' these words startled and alarmed peter; he trembled as to what might ensue if he owned the truth before his brutal companions, and therefore answered quickly, 'woman, i know him not,' got up, and left the vestibule. at this moment the cock crowed somewhere in the outskirts of the town. i do not remember hearing it, but i felt that is was crowing. as he went out, another maid-servant looked at him, and said to those who were with her, 'this man was also with him,' and the persons she addressed immediately demanded of peter whether her words were true, saying, 'art thou not one of this man's disciples?' peter was even more alarmed than before, and renewed his denial in these words, 'i am not; i know not the man.' he left the inner court, and entered the exterior court; he was weeping, and so great was his anxiety and grief, that he did not reflect in the least on the words he had just uttered. the exterior court was quite filled with persons, and some had climbed on to the top of the wall to listen to what was going on in the inner court which they were forbidden to enter. a few of the disciples were likewise there, for their anxiety concerning jesus was so great that they could not make up their minds to remain concealed in the caves of hinnom. they came up to peter, and with many tears questioned him concerning their loved master, but he was so unnerved and so fearful of betraying himself, that he briefly recommended them to go away, as it was dangerous to remain, and left them instantly. he continued to indulge his violent grief, while they hastened to leave the town. i recognised among these disciples, who were about sixteen in number, bartholomew, nathaniel, saturninus, judas barsabeas, simon, who was afterwards bishop of jerusalem, zacheus, and manahem, the man who was born blind and cured by our lord. peter could not rest anywhere, and his love for jesus prompted him to return to the inner court, which he was allowed to enter, because joseph of arimathea and nicodemus had, in the first instance, taken him in. he did not re-enter the vestibule, but turned to the right and went towards the round room which was behind the tribunal, and in which jesus was undergoing every possible insult and ignominy from his cruel enemies. peter walked timidly up to the door, and although perfectly conscious that he was suspected by all present of being a partisan of jesus, yet he could not remain outside; his love for his master impelled him forward; he entered the room, advanced, and soon stood in the very midst of the brutal throng who were feasting their cruel eyes on the sufferings of jesus. they were at that moment dragging him ignominiously backwards and forwards with the crown of straw upon his head; he cast a sorrowful and even severe glance upon peter, which cut him to the heart, but as he was still much alarmed, and at that moment heard some of the bystanders call out, 'who is that man?' he went back again into the court, and seeing that the persons in the vestibule were watching him, came up to the fire and remained before it for some time. several persons who had observed his anxious troubled countenance began to speak in opprobrious terms of jesus, and one of them said to him, 'thou also art one of his disciples; thou also art a galilean; thy very speech betrays thee.' peter got up, intending to leave the room, when a brother of malchus came up to him and said, 'did i not see thee in the garden with him? didst thou not cut off my brother's ear?' peter became almost beside himself with terror; he began to curse and to swear 'that he knew not the man,' and ran out of the vestibule into the outer court; the cock then crowed again, and jesus, who at that moment was led across the court, cast a look of mingled compassion and grief upon his apostle. this look of our lord pierced peter to the very heart,--it recalled to his mind in the most forcible and terrible manner the words addressed to him by our lord on the previous evening: 'before the cock crows twice, thou shalt thrice deny me.' he had forgotten all his promises and protestations to our lord, that he would die rather than deny him--he had forgotten the warning given to him by our lord;--but when jesus looked at him, he felt the enormity of his fault, and his heart was nigh bursting with grief. he had denied his lord, when that beloved master was outraged, insulted, delivered up into the hands of unjust judges,--when he was suffering all in patience and in silence. his feelings of remorse were beyond expression; he returned to the exterior court, covered his face and wept bitterly; all fear of being recognised was over;--he was ready to proclaim to the whole universe both his fault and his repentance. what man will dare assert that he would have shown more courage than peter if, with his quick and ardent temperament, he were exposed to such danger, trouble, and sorrow, at a moment, too, when completely unnerved between fear and grief, and exhausted by the sufferings of this sad night? our lord left peter to his own strength, and he was weak; like all who forget the words: 'watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.' chapter xi. mary in the house of caiphas. the blessed virgin was ever united to her divine son by interior spiritual communications; she was, therefore, fully aware of all that happened to him--she suffered with him, and joined in his continual prayer for his murderers. but her maternal feelings prompted her to supplicate almighty god most ardently not to suffer the crime to be completed, and to save her son from such dreadful torments. she eagerly desired to return to him; and when john, who had left the tribunal at the moment the frightful cry, 'he is guilty of death,' was raised, came to the house of lazarus to see after her, and to relate the particulars of the dreadful scene he had just witnessed, she, as also magdalen and some of the other holy women, begged to be taken to the place where jesus was suffering. john, who had only left our saviour in order to console her whom he loved best next to his divine master, instantly acceded to their request, and conducted them through the streets, which were lighted up by the moon alone, and crowded with persons hastening to their home. the holy women were closely veiled; but the sobs which they could not restrain made many who passed by observe them, and their feelings were harrowed by the abusive epithets they overheard bestowed upon jesus by those who were conversing on the subject of his arrest. the blessed virgin, who ever beheld in spirit the opprobrious treatment which her dear son was receiving, continued 'to lay up all these things in her heart;' like him she suffered in silence; but more than once she became totally unconscious. some disciples of jesus, who were returning from the hall of caiphas, saw her fainting in the arms of the holy women, and, touched with pity, stopped to look at her compassionately, and saluted her in these words: 'hail! unhappy mother--hail, mother of the most holy one of israel, the most afflicted of all mothers!' mary raised her head, thanked them gratefully, and continued her sad journey. when in the vicinity of caiphas's house, their grief was renewed by the sight of a group of men who were busily occupied under a tent, making the cross ready for our lord's crucifixion. the enemies of jesus had given orders that the cross should be prepared directly after his arrest, that they might without delay execute the sentence which they hoped to persuade pilate to pass on him. the romans had already prepared the crosses of the two thieves, and the workmen who were making that of jesus were much annoyed at being obliged to labour at it during the night; they did not attempt to conceal their anger at this, and uttered the most frightful oaths and curses, which pierced the heart of the tender mother of jesus through and through; but she prayed for these blind creatures who thus unknowingly blasphemed the saviour who was about to die for their salvation, and prepared the cross for his cruel execution. mary, john, and the holy women traversed the outer court attached to caiphas's house. they stopped under the archway of a door which opened into the inner court. mary's heart was with her divine son, and she desired most ardently to see this door opened, that she might again have a chance of beholding him, for she knew that it alone separated her from the prison where he was confined. the door was at length opened, and peter rushed out, his face covered with his mantle, wringing his hands, and weeping bitterly. by the light of the torches he soon recognised john and the blessed virgin, but the sight of them only renewed those dreadful feelings of remorse which the look of jesus had awakened in his breast. mary approached him instantly, and said, 'simon, tell me, i entreat you, what is become of jesus, my son?' these words pierced his very heart; he could not even look at her, but turned away, and again wrung his hands. mary drew close to him, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: 'simon, son of john, why dost thou not answer me?'--mother!' exclaimed peter, in a dejected tone, 'o, mother, speak not to me--thy son is suffering more than words can express: speak not to me! they have condemned him to death, and i have denied him three times.' john came up to ask a few more questions, but peter ran out of the court as if beside himself, and did not stop for a single moment until he reached the cave at mount olivet--that cave on the stones of which the impression of the hands of our saviour had been miraculously left. i believe it is the cave in which adam took refuge to weep after his fall. the blessed virgin was inexpressibly grieved at hearing of the fresh pang inflicted on the loving heart of her divine son, the pang of hearing himself denied by that disciple who had first acknowledged him as the son of the living god; she was unable to support herself, and fell down on the door-stone, upon which the impression of her feet and hands remains to the present day. i have seen the stones, which are preserved somewhere, but i cannot at this moment remember where. the door was not again shut, for the crowd was dispersing, and when the blessed virgin came to herself, she begged to be taken to some place as near as possible to her divine son. john, therefore, led her and the holy women to the front of the prison where jesus was confined. mary was with jesus in spirit, and jesus was with her; but this loving mother wished to hear with her own ear the voice of her divine son. she listened and heard not only his moans, but also the abusive language of those around him. it was impossible for the holy women to remain in the court any longer without attracting attention. the grief of magdalen was so violent that she was unable to conceal it; and although the blessed virgin, by a special grace from almighty god, maintained a calm and dignified exterior in the midst of her sufferings, yet even she was recognised, and overheard harsh words, such as these: 'is not that the mother of the galilean? her son will most certainly be executed, but not before the festival, unless, indeed, he is the greatest of criminals.' the blessed virgin left the court, and went up to the fireplace in the vestibule, where a certain number of persons were still standing. when she reached the spot where jesus had said that he was the son of god, and the wicked jews cried out, 'he is guilty of death,' she again fainted, and john and the holy women carried her away, in appearance more like a corpse than a living person. the bystanders said not a word; they seemed struck with astonishment, and silence, such as might have been produced in hell by the passage of a celestial being, reigned in that vestibule. the holy women again passed the place where the cross was being prepared; the workmen appeared to find as much difficulty in completing it as the judges had found in pronouncing sentence, and were obliged to fetch fresh wood every moment, for some bits would not fit, and others split; this continued until the different species of wood were placed in the cross according to the intentions of divine providence. i saw angels who obliged these men to recommence their work, and who would not let them rest, until all was accomplished in a proper manner; but my remembrance of this vision is indistinct. chapter xii. jesus confined in the subterranean prison. the jews, having quite exhausted their barbarity, shut jesus up in a little vaulted prison, the remains of which subsist to this day. two of the archers alone remained with him, and they were soon replaced by two others. he was still clothed in the old dirty mantle, and covered with the spittle and other filth which they had thrown over him; for they had not allowed him to put on his own clothes again, but kept his hands tightly bound together. when our lord entered this prison, he prayed most fervently that his heavenly father would accept all that he had already suffered, and all that he was about to suffer, as an expiatory sacrifice, not only for his executioners, but likewise for all who in future ages might have to suffer torments such as he was about to endure, and be tempted to impatience or anger. the enemies of our lord did not allow him a moment's respite, even in this dreary prison, but tied him to a pillar which stood in the centre, and would not allow him to lean upon it, although he was so exhausted from ill treatment, the weight of his chains, and his numerous falls, that he could scarcely support himself on his swollen and torn feet. never for a moment did they cease insulting him; and when the first set were tired out, others replaced them. it is quite impossible to describe all that the holy of holies suffered from these heartless beings; for the sight affected me so excessively that i became really ill, and i felt as if i could not survive it. we ought, indeed, to be ashamed of that weakness and susceptibility which renders us unable to listen composedly to the descriptions, or speak without repugnance, of those sufferings which our lord endured so calmly and patiently for our salvation. the horror we feel is as great as that of a murderer who is forced to place his hands upon the wound he himself has inflicted on his victim. jesus endured all without opening his mouth; and it was man, sinful man, who perpetrated all these outrages against one who was at once their brother, their redeemer, and their god. i, too, am a great sinner, and my sins cause these sufferings. at the day of judgment, when the most hidden things will be manifested, we shall see the share we have had in the torments endured by the son of god; we shall see how far we have caused them by the sins we so frequently commit, and which are, in fact, a species of consent which we give to, and a participation in, the tortures which were inflicted on jesus by his cruel enemies. if, alas! we reflected seriously on this, we should repeat with much greater fervour the words which we find so often in prayer books: 'lord, grant that i may die, rather than ever wilfully offend thee again by sin.' jesus continued to pray for his enemies, and they being at last tired out left him in peace for a short time, when he leaned against the pillar to rest, and a bright light shone around him. the day was beginning to dawn,--the day of his passion, of our redemption,--and a faint ray penetrating the narrow vent-hole of the prison, fell upon the holy and immaculate lamb, who had taken upon himself the sins of the world. jesus turned towards the ray of light, raised his fettered hands, and, in the most touching manner, returned thanks to his heavenly father for the dawn of that day, which had been so long desired by the prophets, and for which he himself had so ardently sighed from the moment of his birth on earth, and concerning which he had said to his disciples, 'i have a baptism wherewith i am to be baptised, and how am i straitened until it be accomplished!' i prayed with him; but i cannot give the words of his prayer, for i was so completely overcome, and touched to hear him return thanks to his father for the terrible sufferings which he had already endured for me, and for the still greater which he was about to endure. i could only repeat over and over with the greatest fervour, 'lord, i beseech thee, give me these sufferings: they belong to me: i have deserved them in punishment for my sins.' i was quite overwhelmed with feelings of love and compassion when i looked upon him thus welcoming the first dawn of the great day of his sacrifice, and that ray of light which penetrated into his prison might, indeed, be compared to the visit of a judge who wishes to be reconciled to a criminal before the sentence of death which he has pronounced upon him is executed. the archers, who were dozing, woke up for a moment, and looked at him with surprise: they said nothing, but appeared to be somewhat astonished and frightened. our divine lord was confined in this prison an hour, or thereabouts. whilst jesus was in this dungeon, judas, who had been wandering up and down the valley of hinnom like a madman, directed his step towards the house of caiphas, with the thirty pieces of silver, the reward of his treachery, still hanging to his waist. all was silent around, and he addressed himself to some of the sentinels, without letting them know who he was, and asked what was going to be done to the galilean. 'he has been condemned to death, and he will certainly be crucified,' was the reply. judas walked to and fro, and listened to the different conversations which were held concerning jesus. some spoke of the cruel treatment he had received, other of his astonishing patience, while others, again discoursed concerning the solemn trial which was to take place in the morning before the great council. whilst the traitor was listening eagerly to the different opinions given, day dawned; the members of the tribunal commenced their preparations, and judas slunk behind the building that he might not be seen, for like cain he sought to hide himself from human eyes, and despair was beginning to take possession of his soul. the place in which he took refuge happened to be the very spot where the workmen had been preparing the wood for making the cross of our lord; all was in readiness, and the men were asleep by its side. judas was filled with horror at the sight: he shuddered and fled when he beheld the instrument of that cruel death to which for a paltry sum of money he had delivered up his lord and master; he ran to and fro in perfect agonies of remorse, and finally hid himself in an adjoining cave, where he determined to await the trial which was to take place in the morning. chapter xiii. the morning trial. caiphas, annas, the ancients, and the scribes assembled in the morning in the great hall of the tribunal, to have a legal trial, as meetings at night were not lawful, and could only be looked upon in the light of preparatory audiences. the majority of the members had slept in the house of caiphas, where beds had been prepared for them, but some, and among them nicodemus and joseph of arimathea, had gone home, and returned at the dawn of day. the meeting was crowded, and the members commenced their operations in the most hurried manner possible. they wished to condemn jesus to death at once, but nicodemus, joseph, and some others opposed their wishes and demanded that the decision should be deferred until after the festival, for fear of causing an insurrection among the people, maintaining likewise that no criminal could be justly condemned upon charges which were not proved, and that in the case now before them all the witnesses contradicted one another. the high priests and their adherents became very angry, and told joseph and nicodemus, in plain terms, that they were not surprised at their expressing displeasure at what had been done, because they were themselves partisans of the galilean and his doctrines, and were fearful of being convicted. the high priest even went so far as to endeavour to exclude from the council all those members who were in the lightest degree favourable to jesus. these members protested that they washed their hands of all the future proceedings of the council, and leaving the room went to the temple, and from this day never again took their seats in the council. caiphas then ordered the guards to bring jesus once more into his presence, and to prepare everything for taking him to pilate's court directly he should have pronounced sentence. the emissaries of the council hurried off to the prison, and with their usual brutality untied the hands of jesus, dragged off the old mantle which they had thrown over his shoulders, made him put on his own soiled garment, and having fastened ropes round his waist, dragged him out of the prison. the appearance of jesus, when he passed through the midst of the crowd who were already assembled in the front of the house, was that of a victim led to be sacrificed; his countenance was totally changed and disfigured from ill-usage, and his garments stained and torn; but the sight of his sufferings, far from exciting a feeling of compassion in the hard hearted jews, simply filled them with disgust, and increased their rage. pity was, indeed, a feeling unknown in their cruel breasts. caiphas, who did not make the slightest effort to conceal his hatred, addressed our lord haughtily in these words: 'if thou be christ , tell us plainly.' then jesus raised his head, and answered with great dignity and calmness, 'if i shall tell you, you will not believe me; and if i shall also ask you, you will not answer me, or let me go. but hereafter the son of man shall be sitting on the right hand of the power of god.' the high priests looked at one another, and said to jesus, with a disdainful laugh, 'art thou, then, the son of god?' and jesus answered, with the voice of eternal truth, 'you say that i am.' at these words they all exclaimed, 'what need we any further testimony? for we ourselves have heard it from his own mouth.' they all arose instantly and vied with each other as to who should heap the most abusive epithets upon jesus, whom they termed a low-born miscreant, who aspired to being their messiah, and pretended to be entitled to sit at the right hand of god. they ordered the archers to tie his hands again, and to fasten a chain round his neck (this was usually done to criminals condemned to death), and they then prepared to conduct him to pilate's hall, where a messenger had already been dispatched to beg him to have all in readiness for trying a criminal, as it was necessary to make no delay on account of the festival day. the jewish priests murmured among themselves at being obliged to apply to the roman governor for the confirmation of their sentence, but it was necessary, as they had not the right of condemning criminals excepting for things which concerned religion and the temple alone, and they could not pass a sentence of death. they wished to prove that jesus was an enemy to the emperor, and this accusation concerned those departments which were under pilate's jurisdiction. the soldiers were all standing in front of the house, surrounded by a large body of the enemies of jesus, and of common persons attracted by curiosity. the high priests and a part of the council walked at the head of the procession, and jesus, led by archers, and guarded by soldiers, followed, while the mob brought up the rear. they were obliged to descend mount sion, and cross a part of the lower town to reach pilate's palace, and many priests who had attended the council went to the temple directly afterwards, as it was necessary to prepare for the festival. chapter xiv. the despair of judas whilst the jews were conducting jesus to pilate, the traitor judas walked about listening to the conversation of the crowd who followed, and his ears were struck by words such as these: 'they are taking him before pilate; the high priests have condemned the galilean to death; he will be crucified; they will accomplish his death; he has been already dreadfully illtreated; his patience is wonderful, he answers not; his only words are that he is the messiah, and that he will be seated at the right hand of god; they will crucify him on account of those words; had he not said them they could not have condemned him to death. the miscreant who sold him was one of his disciples; and had a short time before eaten the paschal lamb with him; not for worlds would i have had to do with such an act; however guilty the galilean may be, he has not at all events sold his friend for money; such an infamous character as this disciple is infinitely more deserving of death.' then, but too late, anguish, despair, and remorse took possession of the mind of judas. satan instantly prompted him to fly. he fled as if a thousand furies were at his heel, and the bag which was hanging at his side struck him as he ran, and propelled him as a spur from hell; but he took it into his hand to prevent its blows. he fled as fast as possible, but where did he fly? not towards the crowd, that he might cast himself at the feet of jesus, his merciful saviour, implore his pardon, and beg do die with him,--not to confess his fault with true repentance before god, but to endeavour to unburden himself before the world of his crime, and of the price of his treachery. he ran like one beside himself into the temple, where several members of the council had gathered together after the judgment of jesus. they looked at one another with astonishment; and then turned their haughty countenances, on which a smile of irony was visible, upon judas. he with a frantic gesture tore the thirty pieces of silver from his side, and holding them forth with his right hand, exclaimed in accents of the most deep despair, 'take back your silver--that silver with which you bribed me to betray this just man; take back your silver; release jesus; our compact is at an end; i have sinned grievously, for i have betrayed innocent blood.' the priests answered him in the most contemptuous manner, and, as if fearful of contaminating themselves by the contact of the reward of the traitor, would not touch the silver he tended, but replied, 'what have we to do with thy sin? if thou thinkest to have sold innocent blood, it is thine own affair; we know what we have paid for, and we have judged him worthy of death. thou hast thy money, say no more.' they addressed these words to him in the abrupt tone in which men usually speak when anxious to get rid of a troublesome person, and instantly arose and walked away. these words filled judas with such rage and despair that he became almost frantic: his hair stood on end on his head; he rent in two the bag which contained the thirty pieces of silver, cast them down in the temple, and fled to the outskirts of the town. i again beheld him rushing to and fro like a madman in the valley of hinnom: satan was by his side in a hideous form, whispering in his ear, to endeavour to drive him to despair, all the curses which the prophets had hurled upon this valley, where the jews formerly sacrificed their children to idols. it appeared as if all these maledictions were directed against him, as in these words, for instance: 'they shall go forth, and behold the carcases of those who have sinned against me, whose worm dieth not, and whore fires shall never be extinguished.' then the devil murmured in his ears, 'cain, where is thy brother abel? what hast thou done?--his blood cries to me for vengeance: thou art cursed upon earth, a wanderer for ever.' when he reached the torrent of cedron, and saw mount olivet, he shuddered, turned away, and again the words vibrated in his ear, 'friend, whereto art thou come? judas, dost thou betray the son of man with a kiss?' horror filled his soul, his head began to wander, and the arch fiend again whispered, 'it was here that david crossed the cedron when he fled from absalom. absalom put an end to his life by hanging himself. it was of thee that david spoke when he said: "and they repaid me evil for good; hatred for my love. may the devil stand at his right hand; when he is judged, may he go out condemned. may his days be few, and his bishopric let another take. may the iniquity of his father be remembered in the sight of the lord, and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out, because he remembered not to show mercy, but persecuted the poor man and the beggar and the broken in heart, to put him to death. and he loved cursing, and it shall come unto him. and he put on cursing like a garment, and it went in like water into his entrails, and like oil into his bones. may it be unto him like a garment which covereth him; and like a girdle, with which he is girded continually." overcome by these terrible thoughts judas rushed on, and reached the foot of the mountain. it was a dreary, desolate spot filled with rubbish and putrid remains; discordant sounds from the city reverberated in his ears, and satan continually repeated, 'they are now about to put him to death; thou has sold him. knowest thou not the words of the law, "he who sells a soul among his brethren, and receives the price of it, let him die the death"? put an end to thy misery, wretched one; put an end to thy misery.' overcome by despair judas tore off his girdle, and hung himself on a tree which grew in a crevice of the rock, and after death his body burst asunder, and his bowels were scattered around. chapter xv. jesus is taken before pilate. the malicious enemies of our saviour led him through the most public part of the town to take him before pilate. the procession wended its way slowly down the north side of the mountain of sion, then passed through that section on the eastern side of the temple, called acre, towards the palace and tribunal of pilate, which were seated on the north-west side of the temple, facing a large square. caiphas, annas, and many others of the chief council, walked first in festival attire; they were followed by a multitude of scribes and many other jews, among whom were the false witnesses, and the wicked pharisees who had taken the most prominent part in accusing jesus. our lord followed at a short distance; he was surrounded by a band of soldiers, and led by the archers. the multitude thronged on all sides and followed the procession, thundering forth the most fearful oaths and imprecations, while groups of persons were hurrying to and fro, pushing and jostling one another. jesus was stripped of all save his under garment, which was stained and soiled by the filth which had been flung upon it; a long chain was hanging round his neck, which struck his knees as he walked; his hands were pinioned as on the previous day, and the archers dragged him by the ropes which were fastened round his waist. he tottered rather than walked, and was almost unrecognisable from the effects of his sufferings during the night;--he was colourless, haggard, his face swollen and even bleeding, and his merciless persecutors continued to torment him each moment more and more. they had gathered together a large body of the dregs of the people, in order to make his present disgraceful entrance into the city a parody on his triumphal entrance on palm sunday. they mocked, and with derisive gestures called him king, and tossed in his path stones, bits of wood; and filthy rags; they made game of, and by a thousand taunting speeches mocked him, during this pretended triumphal entry. in the corner of a building, not far from the house of caiphas, the afflicted mother of jesus, with john and magdalen, stood watching for him. her soul was ever united to his; but propelled by her love, she left no means untried which could enable her really to approach him. she remained at the cenacle for some time after her midnight visit to the tribunal of caiphas, powerless and speechless from grief; but when jesus was dragged forth from his prison, to be again brought before his judges, she arose, cast her veil and cloak about her, and said to magdalen and john: 'let us follow my son to pilate's court; i must again look upon him.' they went to a place through which the procession must pass, and waited for it. the mother of jesus knew that her son was suffering dreadfully, but never could she have conceived the deplorable, the heartrending condition to which he was reduced by the brutality of his enemies. her imagination had depicted him to her as suffering fearfully, but yet supported and illuminated by sanctity, love, and patience. now, however, the sad reality burst upon her. first in the procession appeared the priests, those most bitter enemies of her divine son. they were decked in flowing robes; but at, terrible to say, instead of appearing resplendent in their character of priests of the most high, they were transformed into priests of satan, for no one could look upon their wicked countenances without beholding there, portrayed in vivid colours, the evil passions with which their souls were filled--deceit, infernal cunning, and a raging anxiety to carry out that most tremendous of crimes, the death of their lord and saviour, the only son of god. next followed the false witnesses, his perfidious accusers, surrounded by the vociferating populace; and last of all--himself--her son--jesus, the son of god, the son of man, loaded with chains, scarcely able to support himself, but pitilessly dragged on by his infernal enemies, receiving blows from some, buffets from others, and from the whole assembled rabble curses, abuse, and the most scurrilous language. he would have been perfectly unrecognisable even to her maternal eyes, stripped as he was of all save a torn remnant of his garment, had she not instantly marked the contrast between his behaviour and that of his vile tormentors. he alone in the midst of persecution and suffering looked calm and resigned, and far from returning blow for blow, never raised his hands but in acts of supplication to his eternal father for the pardon of his enemies. as he approached, she was unable to restrain herself any longer, but exclaimed in thrilling accents: 'alas! is that my son? ah, yes! i see that it is my beloved son. o, jesus, my jesus!' when the procession was almost opposite, jesus looked upon her with an expression of the greatest love and compassion; this look was too much for the heartbroken mother: she became for the moment totally unconscious, and john and magdalen endeavoured to carry her home, but she quickly roused herself, and accompanied the beloved disciple to pilate's house. the inhabitants of the town of ophel were all gathered together in an open space to meet jesus, but far from administering comfort, they added a fresh ingredient to his cup of sorrow; they inflicted upon him that sharp pang which must ever be felt by those who see their friends abandon them in the hour of adversity. jesus had done much for the inhabitants of ophel, but no sooner did they see him reduced to such a state of misery and degradation, than their faith was shaken; they could no longer believe him to be a king, a prophet, the messiah, and the son of god. the pharisees jeered and made game of them, on account of the admiration they had formerly expressed for jesus. 'look at your king now,' they exclaimed; 'do homage to him; have you no congratulations to offer him now that he is about to be crowned , and seated on his throne? all his boasted miracles are at an end; the high priest has put an end to his tricks and witchcraft.' notwithstanding the remembrance which these poor people had of the miracles and wonderful cures which had been performed under their very eyes by jesus; notwithstanding the great benefits he had bestowed upon them, their faith was shaken by beholding him thus derided and pointed out as an object of contempt by the high priest and the members of the sanhedrin, who were regarded in jerusalem with the greatest veneration. some went away doubting, while others remained and endeavoured to join the rabble, but they were prevented by the guards, who had been sent by the pharisees, to prevent riots and confusion. chapter xvi. description of pilate's palace and the adjacent buildings. the palace of the roman governor, pilate, was built on the north-west side of the mountain on which the temple stood, and to reach it persons were obliged to ascend a flight of marble steps. it overlooked a large square surrounded by a colonnade, under which the merchants sat to sell their various commodities. a parapet, and an entrance at the north, south, east, and west sides alone broke the uniformity of this part of the market-place, which was called the forum, and built on higher ground than the adjacent streets, which sloped down from it. the palace of pilate was not quite close, but separated by a large court, the entrance to which at the eastern side was through a high arch facing a street leading to the door called the 'probatica,' on the road to the mount of olives. the southern entrance was through another arch, which leads to sion, in the neighbourhood of the fortress of acre. from the top of the marble steps of pilate's palace, a person could see across the court as far as the forum, at the entrance of which a few columns and stone seats were placed. it was at these seats that the jewish priests stopped, in order not to defile themselves by entering the tribunal of pilate, a line traced on the pavement of the court indicating the precise boundary beyond which they could not pass without incurring defilement. there was a large parapet near the western entrance, supported by the sides of pilate's praetorium, which formed a species of porch between it and the square. that part of pilate's palace which he made use of when acting in the capacity of judge, was called the praetorium. a number of columns surrounded the parapet of which we have just spoken, and in the centre was an uncovered portion, containing an underground part, where the two thieves condemned to be crucified with our lord were confined, and this part was filled with roman soldiers. the pillar upon which our lord was scourged was placed on the forum itself, not far from this parapet and the colonnade. there were many other columns in this place; those nearest to the palace were made use of for the infliction of various corporal punishments, and the others served as posts to which were fastened the beasts brought for sale. upon the forum itself, opposite this building, was a platform filled with seats made of stone; and from this platform, which was called gabbatha, pilate was accustomed to pronounce sentence on great criminals. the marble staircase ascended by persons going to the governor's palace led likewise to an uncovered terrace, and it was from this terrace that pilate gave audience to the priests and pharisees, when they brought forward their accusations against jesus. they all stood before him in the forum, and refused to advance further than the stone seats before mentioned. a person speaking in a loud tone of voice from the terrace could be easily heard by those in the forum. behind pilate's palace there were many other terraces, and likewise gardens, and a country house. the gardens were between the palace of the governor and the dwelling of his wife, claudia procles. a large moat separated these buildings from the mountain on which the temple stood, and on this side might be seen the houses inhabited by those who served in the temple. the palace of herod the elder was placed on the eastern side of pilate's palace; and it was in its inner court that numbers of the innocents were massacred. at present the appearance of these two buildings is a little altered, as their entrances are changed. four of the principal streets commenced at this part of the town, and ran in a southerly direction, three leading to the forum and pilate's palace, and the fourth to the gate through which persons passed on their way to bethsur. the beautiful house which belonged to lazarus, and likewise that of martha, were in a prominent part of this street. one of these streets was very near to the temple, and began at the gate which was called probatica. the pool of probatica was close to this gate on the right hand side, and in this pool the sheep were washed for the first time, before being taken to the temple; while the second and more solemn washing took place in the pool of bethsaida, which is near the south entrance to the temple. the second of the above-mentioned streets contained a house belonging to st. anna, the mother of the blessed virgin, which she usually inhabited when she came up to jerusalem with her family to offer sacrifice in the temple. i believe it was in this house that the espousals of st. joseph and the blessed virgin were celebrated. the forum, as i have already explained, was built on higher ground than the neighbouring streets, and the aqueducts which ran through these streets flowed into the probatica pool. on mount sion, directly opposite to the old castle of king david, stood a building very similar to the forum, while to the south-east might be seen the cenacle, and a little towards the north the tribunals of annas and caiphas. king david's castle was a deserted fortress, filled with courts, empty rooms, and stables, generally let to travellers. it had long been in this state of ruin, certainly before the time of our lord's nativity. i saw the magi with their numerous retinue enter it before going into jerusalem. when in meditation i behold the ruins of old castles and temples, see their neglected and forlorn state, and reflect on the uses to which they are now put, so different from the intentions of those who raised them, my mind always reverts to the events of our own days, when so many of the beautiful edifices erected by our pious and zealous ancestors are either destroyed, defaced, or used for worldly, if not wicked purposes. the little church of our convent, in which our lord deigned to dwell, notwithstanding our unworthiness, and which was to me a paradise upon earth, is now without either roof or windows, and all the monuments are effaced or carried away. our beloved convent, too, what will be done with it in a short time? that convent, where i was more happy in my little cell with my broken chair, than a king could be on his throne, for from its window i beheld that part of the church which contained the blessed sacrament. in a few years, perhaps, no one will know that it ever existed,--no one will know that it once contained hundreds of souls consecrated to god, who spent their days in imploring his mercy upon sinners. but god will know all, he never forgets,--the past and the future are equally present to him. he it is who reveals to me events which took place so long ago, and on the day of judgment, when all must be accounted for, and every debt paid, even to the farthing, he will remember both the good and the evil deeds performed in places long since forgotten. with god there is no exception of persons or places, his eyes see all, even the vineyard of naboth. it is a tradition among us that our convent was originally founded by two poor nuns, whose worldly possessions consisted in a jar of oil and a sack of beans. on the last day god will reward them for the manner in which they put out this small talent to interest, and for the large harvest which they reaped and presented to him. it is often said that poor souls remain in purgatory in punishment for what appears to us so small a crime as not having made restitution of a few coppers of which they had unlawful possession. may god therefore have mercy upon those who have seized the property of the poor, or of the church. chapter xvii. jesus before pilate. it was about eight in the morning, according to our method of counting time, when the procession reached the palace of pilate. annas, caiphas, and the chiefs of the sanhedrin stopped at a part between the forum and the entrance to the praetorium, where some stone seats were placed for them. the brutal guards dragged jesus to the foot of the flight of stairs which led to the judgment-seat of pilate. pilate was reposing in a comfortable chair, on a terrace which overlooked the forum, and a small three-legged table stood by his side, on which was placed the insignia of his office, and a few other things. he was surrounded by officers and soldiers dressed with the magnificence usual in the roman army. the jews and the priests did not enter the praetorium, for fear of defiling themselves, but remained outside. when pilate saw the tumultuous procession enter, and perceived how shamefully the cruel jews had treated their prisoner, he arose, and addressed them in a tone as contemptuous as could have been assumed by a victorious general towards the vanquished chief of some insignificant village: 'what are you come about so early? why have you illtreated this prisoner so shamefully? is it not possible to refrain from thus tearing to pieces and beginning to execute your criminals even before they are judged?' they made no answer, but shouted out to the guards, 'bring him on--bring him to be judged!' and then, turning to pilate, they said, 'listen to our accusations against this malefactor; for we cannot enter the tribunal lest we defile ourselves.' scarcely had they finished these words; when a voice was heard to issue from the midst of the dense multitude; it proceeded from a venerable-looking old man, of imposing stature, who exclaimed, 'you are right in not entering the praetorium, for it has been sanctified by the blood of innocents; there is but one person who has a right to enter, and who alone can enter, because he alone is pure as the innocents who were massacred there.' the person who uttered these words in a loud voice, and then disappeared among the crowd, was a rich man of the name of zadoc, first-cousin to obed, the husband of veronica; two of his children were among the innocents whom herod had caused to be butchered at the birth of our saviour. since that dreadful moment he had given up the world, and, together with his wife, followed the rules of the essenians. he had once seen our saviour at the house of lazarus, and there heard him discourse, and the sight of the barbarous manner in which he was dragged before pilate recalled to his mind all he himself had suffered when his babes were so cruelly murdered before his eyes, and he determined to give this public testimony of his belief in the innocence of jesus. the persecutors of our lord were far too provoked at the haughty manner which pilate assumed towards them, and at the humble position they were obliged to occupy, to take any notice of the words of a stranger. the brutal guards dragged our lord up the marble staircase, and led him to the end of the terrace, from whence pilate was conferring with the jewish priests. the roman governor had often heard of jesus, although he had never seen him, and now he was perfectly astonished at the calm dignity of department of a man brought before him in so pitiable a condition. the inhuman behaviour of the priests and ancients both exasperated him and increased his contempt for them, and he informed them pretty quickly that the had not the slightest intention of condemning jesus without satisfactory proofs of the truth of their accusation. 'what accusation do you bring against this man?' said he, addressing the priests in the most scornful tone possible. 'if he were not a malefactor we would not have delivered him up to thee,' replied the priests sullenly. 'take him,' said pilate, 'and judge you him according to your law.' 'thou knowest well,' replied they, 'that it is not lawful for us to condemn any man to death.' the enemies of jesus were furious--they wished to have the trial finished off, and their victim executed as quickly as possible, that they might be ready at the festival-day to sacrifice the paschal lamb, not knowing, miserable wretches as they were, that he whom they had dragged before the tribunal of an idolatrous judge (into whose house they would not enter, for fear of defiling themselves before partaking of the figurative victim), that he, and he alone, was the true paschal lamb, of which the other was only the shadow. pilate, however, at last ordered them to produce their accusations. these accusations were three in number, and they brought forward ten witnesses to attest the truth of each. their great aim was to make pilate believe that jesus was the leader of a conspiracy against the emperor, in order that he might condemn him to death as a rebel. they themselves were powerless in such matters, being allowed to judge none but religious offences. their first endeavour was to convict him of seducing the people, exciting them to rebellion, and of being an enemy to public peace and tranquillity. to prove these charges they brought forward some false witnesses, and declared likewise that he violated the sabbath, and even profaned it by curing the sick upon that day. at this accusation pilate interrupted them, and said in a jeering tone, 'it is very evident you were none of you ill yourselves--had you been so you would not have complained of being cured on the sabbath-day.' 'he seduces the people, and inculcates the most disgusting doctrines. he even says, that no person can attain eternal life unless they eat his flesh and drink his blood.' pilate was quite provoked at the intense hatred which their words and countenances expressed and, turning from them with a look of scorn, exclaimed, 'you most certainly must wish to follow his doctrines and to attain eternal life, for you are thirsting for both his body and blood.' the jews then brought forward the second accusation against jesus, which was that he forbad the people to pay tribute to the emperor. these words roused the indignation of pilate, as it was his place to see that all the taxes were properly paid, and he exclaimed in an angry tone, 'that is a lie! i must know more about it than you.' this obliged the enemies of our lord to proceed to the third accusation, which they did in words such as these: 'although this man is of obscure birth, he is the chief of a large party. when at their head, he denounces curses upon jerusalem, and relates parables of double meaning concerning a king who is preparing a wedding feast for his son. the multitude whom he had gathered together on a mountain endeavoured once to make him their king; but it was sooner than he intended: his plans were not matured; therefore he fled and hid himself. latterly he has come forward much more: it was but the other day that he entered jerusalem at the head of a tumultuous assembly, who by his orders made the people rend the air with acclamations of "hosanna to the son of david! blessed be the empire of our father david, which is now beginning." he obliges his partisans to pay him regal honours, and tells them that he is the christ, the anointed of the lord, the messiah, the king promised to the jews, and he wishes to be addressed by these fine titles.' then witnesses gave testimony concerning these things. the last accusation--that of jesus causing himself to be called king--made some impression upon pilate; he became a little thoughtful, left the terrace and, casting a scrutinising glance on jesus, went into the adjoining apartment, and ordered the guards to bring him alone into his presence. pilate was not only superstitious, but likewise extremely weak-minded and susceptible. he had often, during the course of his pagan education, heard mention made of sons of his gods who had dwelt for a time upon earth; he was likewise fully aware that the jewish prophets had long foretold that one should appear in the midst of them who should be the anointed of the lord, their saviour, and deliverer from slavery; and that many among the people believed this firmly. he remembered likewise that kings from the east had come to herod, the predecessor of the present monarch of that name, to pay homage to a newly-born king of the jews, and that herod had on this account given orders for the massacre of the innocents. he had often heard of the traditions concerning the messiah and the king of the jews, and even examined them with some curiosity; although of course, being a pagan, without the slightest belief. had he believed at all, he would probably have agreed with the herodians, and with those jews who expected a powerful and victorious king. with such impressions, the idea of the jews accusing the poor miserable individual whom they had brought into his presence of setting himself up as the promised king and messiah, of course appeared to him absurd; but as the enemies of jesus brought forward these charges in proof of treason against the emperor, he thought it proper to interrogate him privately concerning them. 'art thou the king of the jews,' said pilate, looking at our lord, and unable to repress his astonishment at the divine expression of his countenance. jesus made answer, 'sayest thou this thing of thyself, or have others told it thee of me?' pilate was offended that jesus should think it possible for him to believe such a thing, and answered, 'am i a jew? thy own nation and the chief priests have delivered thee up to me as deserving of death: what hast thou done?' jesus answered majestically, 'my kingdom is not of this world. if my kingdom were of this world, my servants would certainly strive that i should not be delivered to the jews; but now my kingdom is not from hence.' pilate was somewhat moved by these solemn words, and said to him in a more serious tone, 'art thou a king, then?' jesus answered, 'thou sayest that i am a king. for this was i born, and for this i came into the world, that i should give testimony to the truth. everyone that is of the truth heareth my voice.' pilate looked at him, and rising from his seat said, 'the truth! what is truth?' they then exchanged a few more words, which i do not now remember, and pilate returned to the terrace. the answers and deportment of jesus were far beyond his comprehension; but he saw plainly that his assumption of royalty would not clash with that of the emperor, for that it was to no worldly kingdom that he laid claim; whereas the emperor cared for nothing beyond this world. he therefore again addressed the chief priests from the terrace, and said, 'i find no cause in him.' the enemies of jesus became furious, and uttered a thousand different accusations against our saviour. but he remained silent, solely occupied in praying for his base enemies, and replied not when pilate addressed him in these words, 'answerest thou nothing? behold in how many things they accuse thee!' pilate was filled with astonishment, and said, 'i see plainly that all they allege is false.' but his accusers, whose anger continued to increase, cried out, 'you find no cause in him? is it no crime to incite the people to revolt in all parts of the kingdom?--to spread his false doctrines, not only here, but in galilee likewise?' the mention of galilee made pilate pause: he reflected for a moment, and then asked, 'is this man a galilean, and a subject of herod's?' they made answer, 'he is; his parents lived at nazareth, and his present dwelling is in capharnaum.' 'since that is the case,' replied pilate, 'take him before herod; he is here for the festival, and can judge him at once, as he is his subject.' jesus was immediately led out of the tribunal, and pilate dispatched an officer to herod, to inform him that jesus of nazareth, who was his subject, was about to be brought to him to be judged. pilate had two reasons for following this line of conduct; in the first place he was delighted to escape having to pass sentence himself, as he felt very uncomfortable about the whole affair; and in the second place he was glad of an opportunity of pleasing herod, with whom he had had a disagreement, for he knew him to be very curious to see jesus. the enemies of our lord were enraged at being thus dismissed by pilate in the presence of the whole multitude, and gave vent to their anger by ill-treating him even more than before. they pinioned him afresh, and then ceased not overwhelming him with curses and blows as they led him hurriedly through the crowd, towards the palace of herod, which was situated at no great distance from the forum. some roman soldiers had joined the procession. during the time of the trial claudia procles, the wife of pilate, had sent him frequent messages to intimate that she wished extremely to speak to him; and when jesus was sent to herod, she placed herself on a balcony and watched the cruel conduct of his enemies with mingled feelings of fear, grief, and horror. chapter xviii. the origin of the way of the cross. during the whole of the scene which we have just described, the mother of jesus, with magdalen and john, had stood in a recess in the forum: they were overwhelmed with the most bitter sorrow, which was but increased by all they heard and saw. when jesus was taken before herod, john led the blessed virgin and magdalen over the parts which had been sanctified by his footsteps. they again looked at the house of caiphas, that of annas, ophel, gethsemani, and the garden of olives; they stopped and contemplated each spot where he had fallen, or where he had suffered particularly; and they wept silently at the thought of all he had undergone. the blessed virgin knelt down frequently and kissed the ground where her son had fallen, while magdalen wrung her hands in bitter grief, and john, although he could not restrain his own tears, endeavoured to console his companions, supported and led them on. thus was the holy devotion of the 'way of the cross' first practised; thus were the mysteries of the passion of jesus first honoured, even before that passion was accomplished, and the blessed virgin, that model of spotless purity, was the first to show forth the deep veneration felt by the church for our dear lord. how sweet and consoling to follow this immaculate mother, passing to and fro, and bedewing the sacred spots with her tears. but, ah! who can describe the sharp, sharp sword of grief which then transfixed her tender soul? she who had once borne the saviour of the world in her chaste womb, and suckled him for so long,--she who had truly conceived him who was the word of god, in god from all eternity, and truly god,--she beneath whose heart, full of grace, he had deigned to dwell nine months, who had felt him living within her before he appeared among men to impart the blessing of salvation and teach them his heavenly doctrines; she suffered with jesus, sharing with him not only the sufferings of his bitter passion, but likewise that ardent desire of redeeming fallen man by an ignominious death, which consumed him. in this touching manner did the most pure and holy virgin lay the foundation of the devotion called the way of the cross; thus at each station, marked by the sufferings of her son, did she lay up in her heart the inexhaustible merits of his passion, and gather them up as precious stones or sweet-scented flowers to be presented as a choice offering to the eternal father in behalf of all true believers. the grief of magdalen was so intense as to make her almost like an insane person. the holy and boundless love she felt for our lord prompted her to cast herself at his feet, and there pour forth the feelings of her heart (as she once poured the precious ointment on his head as he sat at table); but when on the point of following this impulse, a dark gulf appeared to intervene between herself and him. the repentance she felt for her faults was immense, and not less intense was her gratitude for their pardon; but when she longed to offer acts of love and thanksgiving as precious incense at the feet of jesus, she beheld him betrayed, suffering, and about to die for the expiation of her offences which he had taken upon himself, and this sight filled her with horror, and almost rent her soul asunder with feelings of love, repentance, and gratitude. the sight of the ingratitude of those for whom he was about to die increased the bitterness of these feelings tenfold, and every step, word, or movement demonstrated the agony of her soul. the heart of john was filled with love, and he suffered intensely, but he uttered not a word. he supported the mother of his beloved master in this her first pilgrimage through the stations of the way of the cross, and assisted her in giving the example of that devotion which has since been practised with so much fervour by the members of the christian church. chapter xix. pilate and his wife. whilst the jews were leading jesus to herod, i saw pilate go to his wife, claudia procles. she hastened to meet him, and they went together into a small garden-house which was on one of the terraces behind the palace. claudia appeared to be much excited, and under the influence of fear. she was a tall, fine-looking woman, although extremely pale. her hair was plaited and slightly ornamented, but partly covered by a long veil which fell gracefully over her shoulders. she wore earrings, a necklace, and her flowing dress was drawn together and held up by a species of clasp. she conversed with pilate for a long time, and entreated him by all that he held sacred not to injure jesus, that prophet, that saint of saints; and she related the extraordinary dreams or visions which she had had on the previous night concerning him. whilst she was speaking i saw the greatest part of these visions: the following were the most striking. in the first place, the principal events in the life of our lord--the annunciation, the nativity, the adoration of the shepherds and that of the kings, the prophecy of simeon and that of anna, the flight into egypt, the massacre of the innocents, and our lord's temptation in the wilderness. she had likewise been shown in her sleep the most striking features of the public life of jesus. he always appeared to her environed with a resplendent light, but his malicious and cruel enemies were under the most horrible and disgusting forms imaginable. she saw his intense sufferings, his patience, and his inexhaustible love, likewise the anguish of his mother, and her perfect resignation. these visions filled the wife of pilate with the greatest anxiety and terror, particularly as they were accompanied by symbols which made her comprehend their meaning, and her tender feelings were harrowed by the sight of such dreadful scenes. she had suffered from them during the whole of the night; they were sometimes obscure, but more often clear and distinct; and when morning dawned and she was roused by the noise of the tumultuous mob who were dragging jesus to be judged, she glanced at the procession and instantly saw that the unresisting victim in the midst of the crows, bound, suffering, and so inhumanely treated as to be scarcely recognisable, was no other than that bright and glorious being who had been so often brought before her eyes in the visions of the past night. she was greatly affected by this sight, and immediately sent for pilate, and gave him an account of all that had happened to her. she spoke with much vehemence and emotion; and although there was a great deal in what she had seen which she could not understand, much less express, yet she entreated and implored her husband in the most touching terms to grant her request. pilate was both astonished and troubled by the words of his wife. he compared the narration with all he had previously heard concerning jesus; and reflected on the hatred of the jews, the majestic silence of our saviour, and the mysterious answers he had given to all his questions. he hesitated for some time, but was at last overcome by the entreaties of his wife, and told her that he had already declared his conviction of the innocence of jesus, and that he would not condemn him, because he saw that the accusations were mere fabrications of his enemies. he spoke of the words of jesus to himself, promised his wife that nothing should induce him to condemn this just man, and even gave her a ring before they parted as a pledge of his promise. the character of pilate was debauched and undecided, but his worst qualities were an extreme pride and meanness which made him never hesitate in the performance of an unjust action, provided it answered his ends. he was excessively superstitious, and when in any difficulty had recourse to charms and spells. he was much puzzled and alarmed about the trial of jesus; and i saw him running backwards and forwards, offering incense first to one god and then to another, and imploring them to assist him; but satan filled his imagination with still greater confusion; he first instilled one false idea and then another into his mind. he then had recourse to one of his favourite superstitious practices, that of watching the sacred chickens eat, but in vain,--his mind remained enveloped in darkness, and he became more and more undecided. he first thought that he would acquit our saviour, whom he well knew to be innocent, but then he feared incurring the wrath of his false gods if he spared him, as he fancied he might be a species of demigod, and obnoxious to them. 'it is possible,' said he inwardly, 'that this man may really be that king of the jews concerning whose coming there are so many prophecies. it was a king of the jews whom the magi came from the east to adore. perhaps he is a secret enemy both of our gods and of the emperor; it might be most imprudent in me to spare his life. who knows whether his death would not be a triumph to my gods?' then he remembered the wonderful dreams described to him by his wife, who had never seen jesus, and he again changed, and decided that it would be safer not to condemn him. he tried to persuade himself that he wished to pass a just sentence; but he deceived himself, for when he asked himself, 'what is the truth?' he did not wait for the answer. his mind was filled with confusion, and he was quite at a loss how to act, as his sole desire was to entail no risk upon himself. chapter xx. jesus before herod. the palace of the tetrarch herod was built on the north side of the forum, in the new town; not very far from that of pilate. an escort of roman soldiers, mostly from that part of the country which is situated between switzerland and italy, had joined the procession. the enemies of jesus were perfectly furious at the trouble they were compelled to take in going backwards and forwards, and therefore vented their rage upon him. pilate's messenger had preceded the procession, consequently herod was expecting them. he was seated on a pile of cushions, heaped together so as to form a species of throne, in a spacious hall, and surrounded by courtiers and warriors. the chief priests entered and placed themselves by his side, leaving jesus at the entrance. herod was much elated and pleased at pilate's having thus publicly acknowledged his right of judging the galileans, and likewise rejoiced at seeing that jesus who had never deigned to appear before him reduced to such a state of humiliation and degradation. his curiosity had been greatly excited by the high terms in which john the baptist had announced the coming of jesus, and he had likewise heard much about him from the herodians, and through the many spies whom he had sent into different parts: he was therefore delighted at this opportunity of interrogating him in the presence of the courtiers and of the jewish priests, hoping to make a grand display of this own knowledge and talents. pilate having sent him word, 'that he could find no cause in the man,' he concluded that these words were intended as a hint that he (pilate) wished the accusers to be treated with contempt and mistrust. he, therefore, addressed them in the most haughty distant manner possible, and thereby increased their rage and anger indescribably. they all began at once to vociferate their accusations, to which herod hardly listened, being intent solely on gratifying his curiosity by a close examination of jesus, whom he had so often wished to see. but when he beheld him stripped of all clothing save the remnant of a mantel, scarcely able to stand, and his countenance totally disfigured from the blows he had received, and from the mud and missiles which the rabble had flung at his head, the luxurious and effeminate prince turned away in disgust, uttered the name of god, and said to the priests in a tone of mingled pity and contempt, 'take him hence, and bring him not back into my presence in such a deplorable state.' the guards took jesus into the outer court, and procured some water in a basin, with which they cleansed his soiled garments and disfigured countenance; but they could not restrain their brutality even while doing this, and paid no regard to the wounds with which he was covered. herod meantime accosted the priests in much the same strain as pilate had done. 'your behaviour vastly resembles that of butchers,' he said, 'and you commence your immolations pretty early in the morning.' the chief priests produced their accusations at once. herod, when jesus was again brought into his presence, pretended to feel some compassion, and offered him a glass of wine to recruit his strength; but jesus turned his head away and refused this alleviation. herod then began to expatiate with great volubility on all he had heard concerning our lord. he asked a thousand questions, and exhorted him to work a miracle in his presence; but jesus answered not a word, and stood before him with his eyes cast down, which conduct both irritated and disconcerted herod, although he endeavoured to conceal his anger, and continued his interrogations. he at first expressed surprise, and made use of persuasive words. 'is it possible, jesus of nazareth,' he exclaimed, 'that it is thou thyself that appearest before me as a criminal? i have heard thy actions so much spoken of. thou art not perhaps aware that thou didst offend me grievously by setting free the prisoners whom i had confined at thirza, but possibly thy intentions were good. the roman governor has now sent thee to me to be judged; what answer canst thou give to all these accusations? thou art silent? i have heard much concerning thy wisdom, and the religion thou teachest, let me hear thee answer and confound thy enemies. art thou the king of the jews? art thou the son of god? who art thou? thou art said to have performed wonderful miracles; work one now in my presence. i have the power to release thee. is it true that thou hast restored sight to the blind, raised up lazarus from the dead, and fed two or three thousand persons with a few loaves? why dost thou not answer? i recommend thee to work a miracle quickly before me; perhaps thou mayest rejoice afterwards at having complied with my wishes.' jesus still kept silence, and herod continued to question him with even more volubility. 'who art thou?' said he. 'from whence hast thou thy power? how is it that thou dost no longer possess it? art thou he whose birth was foretold in such a wonderful manner? kings from the east came to my father to see a newly-born king of the jews: is it true that thou wast that child? didst thou escape when so many children were massacred, and how was thy escape managed? why hast thou been for so many years unknown? answer my questions! art thou a king? thy appearance certainly is not regal. i have been told that thou wast conducted to the temple in triumph a short time ago. what was the meaning of such an exhibition?--speak out at once!--answer me!' herod continued to question jesus in this rapid manner; but our lord did not vouchsafe a reply. i was shown (as indeed i already knew) that jesus was thus silent because herod was in a state of excommunication, both on account of his adulterous marriage with herodias, and of his having given orders for the execution of st. john the baptist. annas and caiphas, seeing how indignant herod was at the silence of jesus, immediately endeavoured to take advantage of his feelings of wrath, and recommenced their accusations, saying that he had called herod himself a fox; that his great aim for many years had been the overthrow of herod's family; that he was endeavouring to establish a new religion, and had celebrated the pasch on the previous day. although herod was extremely enraged at the conduct of jesus, he did not lose sight of the political ends which he wished to forward. he was determined not to condemn our lord, both because he experienced a secret and indefinable sensation of terror in his presence, and because he still felt remorse at the thought of having put john the baptist to death, besides which he detested the high priests for not having allowed him to take part in the sacrifices on account of his adulterous connection with herodias. but his principal reason for determining not to condemn jesus was, that he wished to make some return to pilate for his courtesy, and he thought the best return would be the compliment of showing deference to his decision and agreeing with him in opinion. but he spoke in the most contemptuous manner to jesus, and turning to the guards and servants who surrounded him, and who were about two hundred in number, said: 'take away this fool, and pay him that homage which is his due; he is mad, rather than guilty of any crime.' our lord was immediately taken into a large court, where every possible insult and indignity was heaped upon him. this court was between the two wings of the palace, and herod stood a spectator on a platform for some time. annas and caiphas were by his side, endeavouring to persuade him to condemn our saviour. but their efforts were fruitless, and herod answered in a tone loud enough to be heard by the roman soldiers: 'no, i should act quite wrongly if i condemned him.' his meaning was, that it would be wrong to condemn as guilty one whom pilate had pronounced innocent, although he had been so courteous as to defer the final judgment to him. when the high priests and the other enemies of jesus perceived that herod was determined no to give in to their wishes, they dispatched emissaries to that division of the city called acre, which was chiefly inhabited by pharisees, to let them know that they must assemble in the neighbourhood of pilate's palace, gather together the rabble, and bribe them to make a tumult, and demand the condemnation of our lord. they likewise sent forth secret agents to alarm the people by threats of the divine vengeance if they did not insist on the execution of jesus, whom they termed a sacrilegious blasphemer. these agents were ordered likewise to alarm them by intimating that if jesus were not put to death, he would go over to the romans, assist in the extermination of the jewish nation, for that it was to this he referred when he spoke of his future kingdom. they endeavoured to spread a report in other parts of the city, that herod had condemned him, but still that it was necessary for the people likewise to express their wishes, as his partisans were to be feared; for that if he were released he would join the romans, make a disturbance on the festival day, and take the most inhuman revenge. some among them circulated contradictory and alarming reports, in order to excite the people and cause an insurrection; while others distributed money among the soldiers to bribe them to ill-treat jesus, so as to cause his death, which they were most anxious should be brought about as quickly as possible, lest pilate should acquit him. whilst the pharisees were busying themselves in this manner, our blessed saviour was suffering the greatest outrages from the brutal soldiers to whom herod had delivered him, that they might deride him as a fool. they dragged him into the court, and one of their number having procured a large white sack which had once been filled with cotton, they made a hole in its centre with a sword, and then tossed it over the head of jesus, accompanying each action with bursts of the most contemptuous laughter. another soldier brought the remnant of an old scarlet cloak, and passed it round his neck, while the rest bent their knee before him--shoved him--abused him--spat upon him--struck him on the check, because he had refused to answer their king, mocked him by pretending to pay homage--threw mud upon him--seized him by the waist, pretending to make him dance; then, having thrown him down, dragged him through a gutter which ran on the side of the court, thus causing his sacred head to strike against the columns and sides of the wall, and when at last they raised him up, it was only in order to recommence their insults. the soldiers and servants of herod who were assembled in this court amounted to upwards of two hundred, and all thought to pay court to their monarch by torturing jesus in some unheard-of way. many were bribed by the enemies of our lord to strike him on the head with their sticks, and they took advantage of the confusion and tumult to do so. jesus looked upon them with compassion; excess of pain drew from him occasional moans and groans, but his enemies rejoiced in his sufferings, and mocked his moans, and not one among the whole assembly showed the slightest degree of compassion. i saw blood streaming from his head, and three times did the blows prostrate him, but angels were weeping at his side, and they anointed his head with heavenly balsam. it was revealed to me that had it not been for this miraculous assistance he must have died from those wounds. the philistines at gaza, who gave vent to their wrath by tormenting poor blind samson; were far less barbarous than these cruel executioners of our lord. the priests were, however, impatient to return to the temple; therefore, having made certain that their orders regarding jesus would be obeyed, they returned to herod, and endeavoured to persuade him to condemn our lord. but he, being determined to do all in his power to please pilate, refused to accede to their wishes, and sent jesus back again clothed in the fool's garment. chapter xxi. jesus led back from the court of herod to that of pilate. the enemies of jesus were perfectly infuriated at being obliged to take jesus back, still uncondemned, to pilate, who had so many times declared his innocence. they led him round by a much longer road, in order in the first place to let the persons of that part of the town see him in the state of ignominy to which he was reduced, and in the second place to give their emissaries more time to stir up the populace. this road was extremely rough and uneven; and the soldiers, encouraged by the pharisees, scarcely refrained a moment from tormenting jesus. the long garment with which he was clothed impeded his steps, and caused him to fall heavily more than once; and his cruel guards, as also many among the brutal populace, instead of assisting him in his state of exhaustion, endeavoured by blows and kicks to force him to rise. to all these outrages jesus offered not the smallest resistance; he prayed constantly to his father for grace and strength that he might not sink under them, but accomplish the work of his passion for our redemption. it was about eight o'clock when the procession reached the palace of pilate. the crowd was dense, and the pharisees might be seen walking to and fro, endeavouring to incite and infuriate them still more. pilate, who remembered an insurrection which had taken place the year before at the paschal time, had assembled upwards of a thousand soldiers, whom he posted around the praetorium, the forum, and his palace. the blessed virgin, her elder sister mary (the daughter of heli), mari (the daughter of cleophas), magdalen, and about twenty of the holy women, were standing in a room from whence they could see all which took place, and at first john was with them. the pharisees led jesus, still clothed in the fool's garment, through the midst of the insolent mob, and had done all in their power to gather together the most vile and wicked of miscreants from among the dregs of the people. a servant sent by herod had already reached pilate, with a message to the effect that his master had fully appreciated his polite deference to his opinion, but that he looked upon the far famed galilean as not better than a fool, that he had treated him as such, and now sent him back. pilate was quite satisfied at finding that herod had come to the same conclusion as himself, and therefore returned a polite message. from that hour they became friends, having been enemies many years; in fact, ever since the falling-in of the aqueduct. [the cause of the quarrel between pilate and herod was, according to the account of sister emmerich, simply this: pilate had undertaken to build an aqueduct on the south-east side of the mountain on which the temple stood, at the edge of the torrent into which the waters of the pool of bethsaida emptied themselves, and this aqueduct was to carry off the refuse of the temple. herod, through the medium of one of his confidants, who was a member of the sanhedrin, agreed to furnish him with the necessary materials, as also with twenty-eight architects, who were also herodians. his aim was to set the jews still more against the roman governor, by causing the undertaking to fail. he accordingly came to a private understanding with the architects, who agreed to construct the aqueduct in such a manner that it would be certain to fail. when the work was almost finished, and a number of bricklayers from ophel were busily employed in removing the scaffolding, the twenty-eight builders went on to the top of the tower of siloe to contemplate the crash which they knew must take place. not only did the whole of the building crumble to pieces, fall, and kill ninety-three workmen, but even the tower containing the twenty-eight architects came down, and not one escaped death. this accident occurred a short time previous to the th of january, two years after jesus had commenced preaching; it took place on herod's birthday, the same day that john the baptist was beheaded in the castle of marcherunt. no roman officer attended these festivities on account of the affair of the aqueduct, although pilate had, with hypocritical politeness, been requested to take a part in them. sister emmerich saw some of the disciples of jesus carry the news of this event into samaria, where he was teaching, on the th of january. jesus went from thence to hebron, to comfort the family of john; and she saw him, on the th of january, cure many among the workmen of ophel who had been injured by the fall of the aqueduct. we have seen by the relation previously given how little gratitude they showed him. the enmity of herod towards pilate was still farther increased by the manner in which the latter revenged himself on the followers of herod. we will insert here a few details which were communicated at different times to sister emmerich. on the th of march, of the second year of our lord's preaching, when jesus and his disciples were in the neighbourhood of bethania, they were warned by lazarus that judas of gaulon intended to excite an insurrection against pilate. on the th of march, pilate issued a proclamation to the effect that he intended to impose a tax, the proceeds of which were partly to cover the expenses he had incurred in raising the building which had just fallen to the ground. this announcement was followed by a sedition headed by judas of gaulon, who always stood up for liberty, and who was (unknown to himself) a tool in the hands of the herodians. the herodians were rather like our freemasons. on the th of march, at ten o'clock p.m., jesus, dressed in a dark garment, was teaching in the temple, with his apostles and thirty disciples. the revolt of the galileans against pilate burst forth on this very day, and the rebels set free fifty of their number who had been imprisoned the day before; and many among the romans were killed. on the th of april, pilate caused the galileans to be massacred at the moment of offering sacrifice, by disguised soldiers whom he had concealed in the temple. judas was killed with his companions. this massacre exasperated herod still more against pilate, and we have just seen by what means their reconciliation was effected.] jesus was again led to the house of pilate. the archers dragged him up the stairs with their usual brutality; his feet became entangled in his long robe, and he fell upon the white marble steps, which were stained with blood from his sacred head. his enemies had again taken their seats at the entrance of the forum; the mob laughed at his fall, and the archers truck their innocent victim, instead of assisting him to rise. pilate was reclining on a species of easy-chair, with a little table before him, and surrounded with officers and persons who held strips of parchment covered with writing in their hands. he came forward and said to the accusers of jesus: 'you have presented unto me this man, as one that perverteth the people, and behold i, having examined him before you, find no cause in this man in those things wherein you accuse him. no, nor herod neither. for i sent you to him, and behold, nothing worthy of death is done to him. i will chastise him, therefore, and release him.' when the pharisees heard these words, they became furious, and endeavoured to the utmost of their power to persuade the people to revolt, distributing money among them to effect this purpose. pilate looked around with contempt, and addressed them in scornful words. it happened to be the precise time when, according to an ancient custom, the people had the privilege of demanding the deliverance of one prisoner. the pharisees had dispatched emissaries to persuade the people to demand the death, and not the life, of our lord. pilate hoped that they would ask for jesus, and determined to give them to choose between him and a criminal called barabbas, who had been convicted of a dreadful murder committed during a sedition, as also of many other crimes, and was, moreover, detested by the people. there was considerable excitement among the crowd; a certain portion came forward, and their orators, addressing pilate in a loud voice, said: 'grant us the favour you have always granted on the festival day.' pilate made answer: 'it is customary for me to deliver to you a criminal at the paschal time; whom will you that i release to you, barabbas, or jesus that is called christ?' although pilate did not in his own mind feel at all certain that jesus was the king of the jews, yet he called him so, partly because his roman pride made him take delight in humbling the jews by calling such a despicable-looking person their king; and partly because he felt a kind of inward belief that jesus might really be that miraculous king, that messiah who had been promised. he saw plainly that the priests were incited by envy alone in their accusations against jesus; this made him most anxious to disappoint them; and the desire was increased by that glimmering of the truth which partly enlightened his mind. there was some hesitation among the crowd when pilate asked this question, and a few voices answered, 'barabbas.' a servant sent by pilate's wife asked for him at this moment; he left the platform, and the messenger presented the pledge which he had given her, saying at the same time: 'claudia procles begs you to remember your promise this morning.' the pharisees and the priests walked anxiously and hastily about among the crowd, threatening some and ordering others, although, in fact, little was required to incite the already infuriated multitude. mary, with magdalen, john, and the holy women, stood in a corner of the forum, trembling and weeping; for although the mother of jesus was fully aware that the redemption of man could not be brought about by any other means than the death of her son, yet she was filled with the anguish of a mother, and with a longing desire to save him from those tortures and from that death which he was about to suffer. she prayed god not to allow such a fearful crime to be perpetrated; she repeated the words of jesus in the garden of olives: 'if it is possible, let this chalice pass away.' she still felt a glimmering of hope, because there was a report current that pilate wished to acquit jesus. groups of persons, mostly inhabitants of capharnaum, where jesus had taught, and among whom he had wrought so many miraculous cures, were congregated in her vicinity; they pretended not to remember either her or her weeping companions; they simply cast a glance now and then, as if by chance, at their closely-veiled figures. many thought, as did her companions likewise, that these persons at least would reject barabbas, and beg for the life of their saviour and benefactor; but these hopes were, alas, fallacious. pilate sent back the pledge to his wife, as an assurance of his intention to keep his promise. he again came forward on the platform, and seated himself at the little table. the chief priests took their seats likewise, and pilate once more demanded: 'which of the two am i to deliver up to you?' a general cry resounded through the hall: 'not this man, but barabbas!' 'but what am i to do with jesus, who is called christ?' replied pilate. all exclaimed in a tumultuous manner: 'let him be crucified! let him be crucified!' 'but what evil has he done?' asked pilate for the third time. 'i find no cause in him. i will scourge and then acquit him.' but the cry, 'crucify him! crucify him!' burst from the crowd, and the sounds echoed like an infernal tempest; the high priests and the pharisees vociferated and hurried backwards and forwards as if insane. pilate at last yielded; his weak pusillanimous character could not withstand such violent demonstrations; he delivered up barabbas to the people, and condemned jesus to be scourged. chapter xxii. the scourging of jesus. that most weak and undecided of all judges, pilate, had several times repeated these dastardly words: 'i find no crime in him: i will chastise him, therefore, and let him go;' to which the jews had continued to respond, 'crucify him! crucify him!' but he determined to adhere to his resolution of not condemning our lord to death, and ordered him to be scourged according to the manner of the romans. the guards were therefore ordered to conduct him through the midst of the furious multitude to the forum, which they did with the utmost brutality, at the same time loading him with abuse, and striking him with their staffs. the pillar where criminals were scourged stood to the north of pilate's palace, near the guard-house, and the executioners soon arrived, carrying whips, rods, and ropes, which they tossed down at its base. they were six in number, dark, swarthy men, somewhat shorter than jesus; their chests were covered with a piece of leather, or with some dirty stuff; their loins were girded, and their hairy, sinewy arms bare. they were malefactors from the frontiers of egypt, who had been condemned for their crimes to hard labour, and were employed principally in making canals, and in erecting public buildings, the most criminal being selected to act as executioners in the praetorium. these cruel men had many times scourged poor criminals to death at this pillar. they resembled wild beasts or demons, and appeared to be half drunk. they struck our lord with their fists, and dragged him by the cords with which he was pinioned, although he followed them without offering the least resistance, and, finally, they barbarously knocked him down against the pillar. this pillar, placed in the centre of the court, stood alone, and did not serve to sustain any part of the building; it was not very high, for a tall man could touch the summit by stretching out his arm; there was a large iron ring at the top, and both rings and hooks a little lower down. it is quite impossible to describe the cruelty shown by these ruffians towards jesus: they tore off the mantle with which he had been clothed in derision at the court of herod, and almost threw prostrate again. jesus trembled and shuddered as he stood before the pillar, and took off his garments as quickly as he could, but his hands were bloody and swollen. the only return he made when his brutal executioners struck and abused him was, to pray for them in the most touching manner: he turned his face once towards his mother, who was standing overcome with grief; this look quite unnerved her: she fainted, and would have fallen, had not the holy women who were there supported her. jesus put his arms round the pillar, and when his hands were thus raised, the archers fastened them to the iron ring which was at the top of the pillar; they then dragged his arms to such a height that his feet, which were tightly bound to the base of the pillar, scarcely touched the ground. thus was the holy of holies violently stretched, without a particle of clothing, on a pillar used for the punishment of the greatest criminals; and then did two furious ruffians who were thirsting for his blood begin in the most barbarous manner to scourge his sacred body from head to foot. the whips or scourges which they first made use of appeared to me to be made of a species of flexible white wood, but perhaps they were composed of the sinews of the ox, or of strips of leather. our loving lord, the son of god, true god and true man, writhed as a worm under the blows of these barbarians; his mild but deep groans might be heard from afar; they resounded through the air, forming a kind of touching accompaniment to the hissing of the instruments of torture. these groans resembled rather a touching cry of prayer and supplication, than moans of anguish. the clamour of the pharisees and the people formed another species of accompaniment, which at times as a deafening thunder-storm deadened and smothered these sacred and mournful cries, and in their place might be heard the words, 'put him to death!' 'crucify him!' pilate continued parleying with the people, and when he demanded silence in order to be able to speak, he was obliged to proclaim his wishes to the clamorous assembly by the sound of a trumpet, and at such moments you might again hear the noise of the scourges, the moans of jesus, the imprecations of the soldiers, and the bleating of the paschal lambs which were being washed in the probatica pool, at no great distance from the forum. there was something peculiarly touching in the plaintive bleating of these lambs: they alone appeared to unite their lamentations with the suffering moans of our lord. the jewish mob was gathered together at some distance from the pillar at which the dreadful punishment was taking place, and roman soldiers were stationed in different parts round about. many persons were walking to and fro, some in silence, others speaking of jesus in the most insulting terms possible, and a few appearing touched, and i thought i beheld rays of light issuing from our lord and entering the hearts of the latter. i saw groups of infamous, bold-looking young men, who were for the most part busying themselves near the watch-house in preparing fresh scourges, while others went to seek branches of thorns. several of the servants of the high priests went up to the brutal executioners and gave them money; as also a large jug filled with a strong bright red liquid, which quite inebriated them, and increased their cruelty tenfold towards their innocent victim. the two ruffians continued to strike our lord with unremitting violence for a quarter of an hour, and were then succeeded by two others. his body was entirely covered with black, blue, and red marks; the blood was trickling down on the ground, and yet the furious cries which issued from among the assembled jews showed that their cruelty was far from being satiated. the night had been extremely cold, and the morning was dark and cloudy; a little hail had fallen, which surprised everyone, but towards twelve o'clock the day became brighter, and the sun shone forth. the two fresh executioners commenced scourging jesus with the greatest possible fury; they made use of a different kind of rod,--a species of thorny stick, covered with knots and splinters. the blows from these sticks tore his flesh to pieces; his blood spouted out so as to stain their arms, and he groaned, prayed, and shuddered. at this moment, some strangers mounted on camels passed through the forum; they stopped for a moment, and were quite overcome with pity and horror at the scene before them, upon which some of the bystanders explained the cause of what they witnessed. some of these travellers had been baptised by john, and others had heard the sermon of jesus on the mountain. the noise and the tumult of the mob was even more deafening near the house of pilate. two fresh executioners took the places of the last mentioned, who were beginning to flag; their scourges were composed of small chains, or straps covered with iron hooks, which penetrated to the bone, and tore off large pieces of flesh at every blow. what word, alas! could describe this terrible--this heartrending scene! the cruelty of these barbarians was nevertheless not yet satiated; they untied jesus, and again fastened him up with his back turned towards the pillar. as he was totally unable to support himself in an upright position, they passed cords round his waist, under his arms, and above his knees, and having bound his hands tightly into the rings which were placed at the upper part of the pillar, they recommenced scourging him with even greater fury than before; and one among them struck him constantly on the face with a new rod. the body of our lord was perfectly torn to shreds,--it was but one wound. he looked at his torturers with his eyes filled with blood; as if entreating mercy; but their brutality appeared to increase, and his moans each moment became more feeble. the dreadful scourging had been continued without intermission for three quarters of an hour, when a stranger of lowly birth, a relation to ctesiphon, the blind man whom jesus had cured, rushed from amidst the crowd, and approached the pillar with a knife shaped like a cutlass in his hand. 'cease!' he exclaimed, in an indignant tone; 'cease! scourge not this innocent man unto death!' the drunken miscreants, taken by surprise, stopped short, while he quickly severed the cords which bound jesus to the pillar, and disappeared among the crowd. jesus fell almost without consciousness on the ground, which was bathed with his blood. the executioners left him there, and rejoined their cruel companions, who were amusing themselves in the guardhouse with drinking, and plaiting the crown of thorns. our lord remained for a short time on the ground, at the foot of the pillar, bathed in his own blood, and two or three bold-looking girls came up to gratify their curiosity away in disgust, but at the moment the pain of the wounds of jesus was so intense that he raised his bleeding head and looked at them. they retired quickly, and the soldiers and guards laughed and made game of them. during the time of the scourging of our lord, i saw weeping angels approach him many times; i likewise heard the prayers he constantly addressed to his father for the pardon of our sins--prayers which never ceased during the whole time of the infliction of this cruel punishment. whilst he lay bathed in his blood i saw an angel present to him a vase containing a bright-looking beverage which appeared to reinvigorate him in a certain degree. the archers soon returned, and after giving him some blows with their sticks, bade him rise and follow them. he raised himself with the greatest difficulty, as his trembling limbs could scarcely support the weight of this body; they did not give him sufficient time to put on his clothes, but threw his upper garment over his naked shoulders and led him from the pillar to the guardhouse, where he wiped the blood which trickled down his face with a corner of his garment. when he passed before the benches on which the high priests were seated, they cried out, 'put him to death! crucify him! crucify him!' and then turned away disdainfully. the executioners led him into the interior of the guardhouse, which was filled with slaves, archers, hodmen, and the very dregs of the people, but there were no soldiers. the great excitement among the populace alarmed pilate so much, that he sent to the fortress of antonia for a reinforcement of roman soldiers, and posed these well-disciplined troops round the guard-house; they were permitted to talk and to deride jesus in every possible way, but were forbidden to quit their ranks. these soldiers, whom pilate had sent for to intimidate the mob, numbered about a thousand. chapter xxiii. mary during the scourging of our lord. i saw the blessed virgin in a continual ecstasy during the time of the scourging of her divine son; she saw and suffered with inexpressible love and grief all the torments he was enduring. she groaned feebly, and her eyes were red with weeping. a large veil covered her person, and she leant upon mary of heli, her eldest sister, who was old and extremely like their mother, anne. mary of cleophas, the daughter of mary of heli, was there also. the friends of jesus and mary stood around the latter; they wore large veils, appeared overcome with grief and anxiety, an were weeping as if in the momentary expectation of death. the dress of mary was blue; it was long, and partly covered by a cloak made of white wool, and her veil was of rather a yellow white. magdalen was totally beside herself from grief, and her hair was floating loosely under her veil. when jesus fell down at the foot of the pillar, after the flagellation, i saw claudia procles, the wife of pilate, sent some large pieces of linen to the mother of god. i know not whether she thought that jesus would be set free, and that his mother would then require linen to dress his wounds, or whether this compassionate lady was aware of the use which would be made of her present. at the termination of the scourging, mary came to herself for a time, and saw her divine son all torn and mangled, being led away by the archers after the scouring: he wiped his eyes, which were filled with blood, that he might look at his mother, and she stretched out her hands towards him, and continued to look at the bloody traces of his footsteps. i soon after saw mary and magdalen approach the pillar where jesus had been scourged; the mob were at a distance, and they were partly concealed by the other holy women, and by a few kind-hearted persons who had joined them; they knelt down on the ground near the pillar, and wiped up the sacred blood with the linen which claudia procles had sent. john was not at that time with the holy women, who were about twenty in number. the sons of simeon and of obed, and veronica, as also the two nephews of joseph of arimathea--aram and themni--were in the temple, and appeared to be overwhelmed with grief. it was not more than nine o'clock a.m. when the scourging terminated. chapter xxiv. interruption of the visions of the passion by the appearance of st. joseph under the form of a child. during the whole time of the visions which we have just narrated (that is to say, from the th of february until the th of march), sister emmerich continued to suffer all the mental and bodily tortures which were once endured by our lord. being totally immersed in these meditations, and, as it were, dead to exterior objects, she wept and groaned like a person in the hands of an executioner, trembled, shuddered, and writhed on her couch, while her face resembled that of a man about to expire under torture, and a bloody sweat often trickled over her chest and shoulders. she generally perspired so profusely that her bed and clothes were saturated. her sufferings from thirst were likewise fearful, and she might truly be compared to a person perishing in a desert from the want of water. generally speaking, her mouth was so parched in the morning, and her tongue so contracted and dried up, that she could not speak, but was obliged by signs and inarticulate sounds to beg for relief. her constant state of fever was probably brought on by the great pains she endured, added to which she likewise often took upon herself the illnesses and temporal calamities merited by others. it was always necessary for her to rest for a time before relating the different scenes of the passion, nor was it always that she could speak of what she had seen, and she was even often obliged to discontinue her narrations for the day. she was in this state of suffering on saturday the th of march, and with the greatest difficulty and suffering described the scourging of our lord which she had seen in the vision of the previous night, and which appeared to be present to her mind during the greatest part of the following day. towards evening, however, a change took place, and there was an interruption in the course of meditations on the passion which had latterly followed one another so regularly. we will describe this interruption, in order, in the first place, to give our readers a more full comprehension of the interior life of this most extraordinary person; and, in the second, to enable them to pause for a time to rest their minds, as i well know that meditations on the passion of our lord exhaust the weak, even when they remember that it was for their salvation that he suffered and died. the life of sister emmerich, both as regarded her spiritual and intellectual existence, invariably harmonised with the spirit of the church at different seasons of the year. it harmonised even more strongly than man's natural life does with season, or with the hours of the day, and this caused her to be (if we may thus express ourselves) a realisation of the existence and of the various intentions of the church. her union with its spirit was so complete, that no sooner did a festival day begin (that is to say, on the eve), than a perfect change took place within her, both intellectually and spiritually. as soon as the spiritual sun of these festival days of the church was set, she directed all her thoughts towards that which would rise on the following day, and disposed all her prayers, good works, and sufferings for the attainment of the special graces attached to the feast about to commence, like a plant which absorbs the dew, and revels in the warmth and light of the first rays of the sun. these changes did not, as will readily be believed, always take place at the exact moment when the sound of the angelus announced the commencement of a festival, and summoned the faithful to prayer; for this bell is often, either through ignorance or negligence, rung at the wrong time; but they commenced at the time when the feast really began. if the church commemorated a sorrowful mystery, she appeared depressed, faint, and almost powerless; but the instant the celebration of a joyful feast commenced, both body and soul revived to a new life, as if refreshed by the dew of new graces, and she continued in this calm, quiet, and happy state, quite released from every kind of suffering, until the evening. these things took place in her soul quite independently of her will; but as she had had from infancy the most ardent desire of being obedient to jesus and to his church, god had bestowed upon her those special graces which give a natural facility for practising obedience. every faculty of her soul was directed towards the church, in the same manner as a plant which, even if put into a dark cellar, naturally turns its leaves upwards, and appears to seek the light. on saturday, th of march , after sunset, sister emmerich had, with the greatest difficulty, portrayed the different events of the scourging of our lord, and the writer of these pages thought that her mind was occupied in the contemplation of the 'crowning with thorns,' when suddenly her countenance, which was preciously pale and haggard, like that of a person on the point of death, became bright and serene and she exclaimed in a coaxing tone, as if speaking to a child, 'o, that dear little boy! who is he?--stay, i will ask him. his name is joseph. he has pushed his way through the crowd to come to me. poor child, he is laughing: he knows nothing at all of what is going on. how light his clothing is! i fear he must be cold, the air is so sharp this morning. wait, my child; let me put something more over you.' after saying these words in such a natural tone of voice that it was almost impossible for those present not to turn round and expect to see the child, she held up a dress which was near her, as would be done by a kind-hearted person wishing to clothe a poor frozen child. the friend who was standing by her bedside had not sufficient time to ask her to explain the words she had spoken, for a sudden change took place, both in her whole appearance and manner, when her attendant pronounced the word obedience,--one of the vows by which she had consecrated herself to our lord. she instantly came to herself, and, like an obedient child awakening from a sound sleep and starting up at the voice of its mother, she stretched forth her hand, took the rosary and crucifix which were always at her side, arranged her dress, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. she was then carried from her bed to a chair, as she could neither stand nor walk; and it being the time for making her bed, her friend left the room in order to write out what he had heard during the day. on sunday, the th of march, the friend asked her attendant what sister emmerich meant the evening before when she spoke of a child called joseph. the attendant answered, 'she spoke of him again many times yesterday evening; he is the son of a cousin of mine, and a great favourite of hers. i fear that her talking so much about him is a sign that he is going to have an illness, for she said so many times that the poor child was almost without clothing, and that he must be cold.' the friend remembered having often seen this little joseph playing on the bed of sister emmerich, and he supposed that she was dreaming about him on the previous day. when the friend went to see her later in the day to endeavour to obtain a continuation of the narrations of the passion, he found her, contrary to his expectation, more calm, and apparently better in health than on the previous day. she told him that she had seen nothing more after the scourging of our lord; and when he questioned her concerning what she had said about little joseph, she could not remember having spoken of the child at all. he then asked the reason of her being so calm, serene, and apparently well in health; and she answered, 'i always feel thus when mid-lent comes, for then the church sings with isaias in the introit at mass: "rejoice, o, jerusalem, and come together all you that love her; rejoice with joy, you that have been in sorrow, that you may exult and be filled from the breasts of your consolation." mid-lent sunday is consequently a day of rejoicing; and you may likewise remember that, in the gospel of this day, the church relates how our lord fed five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes, of which twelve baskets of fragments remained, consequently we ought to rejoice.' she likewise added, that our lord had deigned to visit her on that day in the holy communion, and that she always felt especial spiritual consolation when she received him on that particular day of the year. the friend cast his eyes on the calendar of the diocese of munster, and saw that on that day they not only kept mid-lent sunday, but likewise the feast of st. joseph, the foster-father of our lord; he was not aware of this before, because in other places the feast of st. joseph is kept on the th, and he remarked this circumstance to sister emmerich, and asked her whether she did not think that was the cause of her speaking about joseph. she answered that she was perfectly aware of its being the feast of the foster-father of jesus, but that she had not been thinking of the child of that name. however, a moment after, she suddenly remembered what her thoughts had been the day before, and explained to her friend that the moment the feast of st. joseph began, her vision of the sorrowful mysteries of the passion ceased, and were superseded by totally different scenes, in which st. joseph appeared under the form of a child, and that it was to him that the words we have mentioned above were addressed. we found that when she received these communications the vision was often in the form of a child, especially in those cases when an artist would have made use of that simile to express his ideas. if, for instance, the accomplishment of some scripture prophecy was being shown to her, she often saw by the side of the illustration a child, who clearly designated the characteristics of such or such a prophet, by his position, his dress, and the manner in which he held in his hand and waved to and fro the prophetic roll appended to a staff. sometimes, when she was in extreme suffering, a beautiful child, dressed in green, with a calm and serene countenance, would approach, and seat himself in a posture of resignation at the side of her bed, allowing himself to be moved from one side to the other, or even put down on to the ground, without the smallest opposition and constantly looking at her affectionately and consoling her. if, when quite prostrate from illness and the sufferings of others which she had taken upon herself, she entered into communication with a saint, either by participation in the celebration of his feast, or from his relics being brought to her, she sometimes saw passages of the childhood of martyrdom. in her greatest sufferings she was usually consoled, instructed, or reproved (whichever the occasion called for) by apparitions under the form of children. sometimes, when totally overcome by trouble and distress, she would fall asleep, and be carried back in imagination to the scenes and perils of her childhood. she sometimes dreamed, as her exclamations and gestures demonstrated, that she was once more a little country girl of five years old, climbing over a hedge, caught in the briars, and weeping with fear. these scenes of her childhood were always events which had really occurred, and the words which escaped her showed what was passing in her mind. she would exclaim (as if repeating the words of others): 'why do you call out so?' 'i will not hold the hedge back until you are quiet and ask me gently to do so.' she had obeyed this injunction when she was a child and caught in the hedge, and she followed the same rule when grown up and suffering from the most terrible trials. she often spoke and joked about the thorn hedge, and the patience and prayer which had then been recommended to her, which admonition she, in after-life, had frequently neglected, but which had never failed her when she had recourse to it. this symbolical coincidence of the events of her childhood with those of her riper years shows that, in the individual no less than in humanity at large, prophetic types may be found. but, to the individual as well as to mankind in general, a divine type has been given in the person of our redeemer, in order that both the one and the other, by walking in his footsteps and with his assistance, may surpass human nature and attain to perfect wisdom and grace with god and man. thus it is that the will of god is done on earth as in heaven, and that this kingdom is attained by 'men of good will.' she then gave a short account of the visions which had, on the previous night, interrupted her visions of the passion at the commencement of the feast of st. joseph. chapter xxv. description of the personal appearance of the blessed virgin. while these sad events were taking place i was in jerusalem, sometimes in one locality and sometimes in another; i was quite overcome, my sufferings were intense, and i felt as if about to expire. during the time of the scourging of my adorable spouse i sat in the vicinity, in a part which no jew dared approach, for fear of defiling himself; but i did not fear defilement, i was only anxious for a drop of our lord's blood to fall upon me, to purify me. i felt so completely heartbroken that i thought i must die as i could not relieve jesus, and each blow which he received drew from me such sobs and moans that i felt quite astonished at not being driven away. when the executioners took jesus into the guardhouse, to crown him with thorns, i longed to follow that i might again contemplate him in his sufferings. then it was that the mother of jesus, accompanied by the holy women, approached the pillar and wiped up the blood with which it and the ground around were saturated. the door of the guardhouse was open, and i heard the brutal laughter of the heartless men who were busily employed in finishing off the crown of thorns which they had prepared for our lord. i was too much affected to weep, but i endeavoured to drag myself near to the place where our lord was to be crowned with thorns. i once more saw the blessed virgin; her countenance was wan and pale, her eyes red with weeping, but the simple dignity of her demeanour cannot be described. notwithstanding her grief and anguish, notwithstanding the fatigue which she had endured (for she had been wandering ever since the previous evening through the streets of jerusalem, and across the valley of josaphat), her appearance was placid and modest, and not a fold of her dress out of place. she looked majestically around, and her veil fell gracefully over her shoulders. she moved quietly, and although her heart was a prey to the most bitter grief, her countenance was calm and resigned. her dress was moistened by the dew which had fallen upon it during the night, and by the tears which she had shed in such abundance; otherwise it was totally unsoiled. her beauty was great, but indescribable, for it was super-human--a mixture of majesty, sanctity, simplicity, and purity. the appearance of mary magdalen was totally different; she was taller and more robust, the expression of her countenance showed greater determination, but its beauty was almost destroyed by the strong passions which she had so long indulged, and by the violent repentance and grief she had since felt. it was painful to look upon her; she was the very picture of despair, her long dishevelled hair was partly covered by her torn and wet veil, and her appearance was that of one completely absorbed by woe and almost beside herself from sorrow. many of the inhabitants of magdalum were standing near, gazing at her with surprise and curiosity, for they had known her in former days, first in prosperity and afterwards in degradation and consequent misery. they pointed, they even cast mud upon her, but she saw nothing, knew nothing, and felt nothing, save her agonising grief. chapter xxvi. the crowning with thorns. no sooner did sister emmerich recommence the narrative of her visions on the passion than she again became extremely ill, oppressed with fever, and so tormented by violent thirst that her tongue was perfectly parched and contracted; and on the monday after mid-lent sunday, she was so exhausted that it was not without great difficulty, and after many intervals of rest, that she narrated all which our lord suffered in this crowning with thorns. she was scarcely able to speak, because she herself felt every sensation which she described in the following account: pilate harangued the populace many times during the time of the scourging of jesus, but they interrupted him once, and vociferated, 'he shall be executed, even if we die for it.' when jesus was led into the guardhouse, they all cried out again, 'crucify him, crucify him!' after this there was silence for a time. pilate occupied himself in giving different orders to the soldiers, and the servants of the high priests brought them some refreshments; after which pilate, whose superstitious tendencies made him uneasy in mind, went into the inner part of his palace in order to consult his gods, and to offer them incense. when the blessed virgin and the holy women had gathered up the blood of jesus, with which the pillar and the adjacent parts were saturated, they left the forum and went into a neighbouring small house, the owner of which i do not know. john was not, i think, present at the scourging of jesus. a gallery encircled the inner court of the guardhouse where our lord was crowned with thorns, and the doors were open. the cowardly ruffians, who were eagerly waiting to gratify their cruelty by torturing and insulting our lord, were about fifty in number, and the greatest part slaves or servants of the jailers and soldiers. the mob gathered round the building, but were soon displaced by a thousand roman soldiers, who were drawn up in good order and stationed there. although forbidden to leave their ranks, these soldiers nevertheless did their utmost by laughter and applause to incite the cruel executioners to redouble their insults; and as public applause gives fresh energy to a comedian, so did their words of encouragement increase tenfold the cruelty of these men. in the middle of the court there stood the fragment of a pillar, and on it was placed a very low stool which these cruel men maliciously covered with sharp flints and bits of broken potsherds. then they tore off the garments of jesus, thereby reopening all his wounds; threw over his shoulders an old scarlet mantle which barely reached his knees; dragged him to the seat prepared, and pushed him roughly down upon it, having first placed the crown of thorns upon his head. the crown of thorns was made of three branches plaited together, the greatest part of the thorns being purposely turned inwards so as to pierce our lord's head. having first placed these twisted branches on his forehead, they tied them tightly together at the back of his head, and no sooner was this accomplished to their satisfaction than they put a large reed into his hand, doing all with derisive gravity as if they were really crowning him king. they then seized the reed, and struck his head so violently that his eyes were filled with blood; they knelt before him, derided him, spat in his face, and buffeted him, saying at the same time, 'hail, king of the jews!' then they threw down his stool, pulled him up again from the ground on which he had fallen, and reseated him with the greatest possible brutality. it is quite impossible to describe the cruel outrages which were thought of and perpetrated by these monsters under human form. the sufferings of jesus from thirst, caused by the fever which his wounds and sufferings had brought on, were intense. he trembled all over, his flesh was torn piecemeal, his tongue contracted, and the only refreshment he received was the blood which trickled from his head on to his parched lips. this shameful scene was protracted a full half-hour, and the roman soldiers continued during the whole time to applaud and encourage the perpetration of still greater outrages. chapter xxvii. ecce homo. the cruel executioners then reconducted our lord to pilate's palace, with the scarlet cloak still thrown over his shoulders, the crown of thorns on his head, and the reed in his fettered hands. he was perfectly unrecognisable, his eyes, mouth, and beard being covered with blood, his body but one wound, and his back bowed down as that of an aged man, while every limb trembled as he walked. when pilate saw him standing at the entrance of his tribunal, even he (hart-hearted as he usually was) started, and shuddered with horror and compassion, whilst the barbarous priests and the populace, far from being moved to pity, continued their insults and mockery. when jesus had ascended the stairs, pilate came forward, the trumpet was sounded to announce that the governor was about to speak, and he addressed the chief priests and the bystanders in the following words: 'behold, i bring him forth to you, that you may know that i find no cause in him.' the archers then led jesus up to pilate, that the people might again feast their cruel eyes on him, in the state of degradation to which he was reduced. terrible and heartrending, indeed, was the spectacle he presented, and an exclamation of horror burst from the multitude, followed by a dead silence, when he with difficulty raised his wounded head, crowned as it was with thorns, and cast his exhausted glance on the excited throng. pilate exclaimed, as he pointed him out to the people; 'ecce homo! behold the man!' the hatred of the high priests and their followers was, if possible, increased at the sight of jesus, and they cried out, 'put him to death; crucify him.' 'are you not content?' said pilate. 'the punishment he has received is, beyond question, sufficient to deprive him of all desire of making himself king.' but they cried out the more and the multitude joined in the cry, 'crucify him, crucify him!' pilate then sounded the trumpet to demand silence, and said: 'take you him and crucify him, for i find no cause in him.' 'we have a law, and according to that law he ought to die,' replied the priests, 'because he made himself the son of god.' these words, 'he made himself the son of god,' revived the fears of pilate; he took jesus into another room, and asked him; 'whence art thou?' but jesus made no answer. 'speakest thou not to me?' said pilate; 'knowest thou not that i have power to crucify thee, and power to release thee?' 'thou shouldst not have any power against me,' replied jesus, 'unless it were given thee from above; therefore he that hath delivered me to thee hath the greater sin.' the undecided, weak conduct of pilate filled claudia procles with anxiety; she again sent him the pledge, to remind him of his promise, but he only returned a vague, superstitious answer, importing that he should leave the decision of the case to the gods. the enemies of jesus, the high priests and the pharisees, having heard of the efforts which were being made by claudia to save him, caused a report to be spread among the people, that the partisans of our lord had seduced her, that he would be released, and then join the romans and bring about the destruction of jerusalem, and the extermination of the jews. pilate was in such a state of indecision and uncertainty as to be perfectly beside himself; he did not know what step to take next, and again addressed himself to the enemies of jesus, declaring that 'he found no crime in him,' but they demanded his death still more clamorously. he then remembered the contradictory accusations which had been brought against jesus, the mysterious dreams of his wife, and the unaccountable impression which the words of jesus had made on himself, and therefore determined to question him again in order thus to obtain some information which might enlighten him as to the course he ought to pursue; he therefore returned to the praetorium, went alone into a room, and sent for our saviour. he glanced at the mangled and bleeding form before him, and exclaimed inwardly: 'is it possible that he can be god?' then he turned to jesus, and adjured him to tell him if he was god, if he was that king who had been promised to the jews, where his kingdom was, and to what class of gods he belonged. i can only give the sense of the words of jesus, but they were solemn and severe. he told him 'that his kingdom was not of this world,' and likewise spoke strongly of the many hidden crimes with which the conscience of pilate was defiled; warned him of the dreadful fate which would be his if he did not repent; and finally declared that he himself, the son of man, would come at the last day, to pronounce a just judgment upon him. pilate was half frightened and half angry at the words of jesus; he returned to the balcony, and again declared that he would release jesus; but they cried out: 'if thou release this man, thou art not caesar's friend. for whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against caesar.' others said that they would accuse him to the emperor of having disturbed their festival; that he must make up his mind at once, because they were obliged to be in the temple by ten o'clock at night. the cry, 'crucify him! crucify him!' resounded on all sides; it re-echoed even from the flat roofs of the houses near the forum, where many persons were assembled. pilate saw that all his efforts were vain, that he could make no impression on the infuriated mob; their yells and imprecations were deafening, and he began to fear an insurrection. therefore he took water, and washed his hands before the people, saying, 'i am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it.' a frightful and unanimous cry then came from the dense multitude, who were assembled from all parts of palestine, 'his blood be upon us, and upon our children.' chapter xxviii. reflections on the visions. whenever, during my meditations on the passion of our lord, i imagine i hear that frightful cry of the jews, 'his blood be upon us, and upon our children,' visions of a wonderful and terrible description display before my eyes at the same moment the effect of that solemn curse. i fancy i see a gloomy sky covered with clouds, of the colour of blood, from which issue fiery swords and darts, lowering over the vociferating multitude; and this curse, which they have entailed upon themselves, appears to me to penetrate even to the very marrow of their bones,--even to the unborn infants. they appear to me encompassed on all sides by darkness; the words they utter take, in my eyes, the form of black flames, which recoil upon them, penetrating the bodies of some, and only playing around others. the last-mentioned were those who were converted after the death of jesus, and who were in considerable numbers, for neither jesus nor mary ever ceased praying, in the midst of their sufferings, for the salvation of these miserable beings. when, during visions of this kind, i turn my thoughts to the holy souls of jesus and mary, and to those of the enemies of christ, all that takes place within them is shown me under various forms. i see numerous devils among the crowd, exciting and encouraging the jews, whispering in their ears, entering their mouths, inciting them still more against jesus, but nevertheless trembling at the sight of his ineffable love and heavenly patience. innumerable angels surrounded jesus, mary, and the small number of saints who were there. the exterior of these angels denotes the office they fill; some represent consolation, others prayer, or some of the works of mercy. i likewise often see consolatory, and at other times menacing voices, under the appearance of bright or coloured gleams of light, issuing from the mouths of these different apparitions; and i see the feelings of their souls, their interior sufferings, and in a word, their every thought, under the appearance of dark or bright rays. i then understand everything perfectly, but it is impossible for me to give an explanation to others; besides which, i am so ill, and so totally overcome by the grief which i feel for my own sins and for those of the world, i am so overpowered by the sight of the sufferings of our lord, that i can hardly imagine how it is possible for me to relate events with the slightest coherency. many of these things, but more especially the apparitions of devils and of angels, which are related by other persons who have had visions of the passion of jesus christ, are fragments of symbolical interior perceptions of this species, which vary according to the state of the soul of the spectator. hence the numerous contradictions, because many things are naturally forgotten or omitted. sister emmerich sometimes spoke on these subjects, either during the time of her visions on the passion, or before they commenced; but she more often refused to speak at all concerning them, for fear of causing confusion in the visions. it is easy to see how difficult it must have been for her, in the midst of such a variety of apparitions, to preserve any degree of connection in her narrations. who can therefore be surprised at finding some omissions and confusion in her descriptions? chapter xxix. jesus condemned to be crucified. pilate, who did not desire to know the truth, but was solely anxious to get out of the difficulty without harm to himself, became more undecided than ever; his conscience whispered--'jesus is innocent;' his wife said, 'he is holy;' his superstitious feelings made him fear that jesus was the enemy of his gods; and his cowardice filled him with dread lest jesus, if he was a god, should wreak his vengeance upon his judge. he was both irritated and alarmed at the last words of jesus, and he made another attempt for his release; but the jews instantly threatened to lay an accusation against him before the emperor. this menace terrified him, and he determined to accede to their wishes, although firmly convinced in his own mind of the innocence of jesus, and perfectly conscious that by pronouncing sentence of death upon him he should violate every law of justice, besides breaking the promise he had made to his wife in the morning. thus did he sacrifice jesus to the enmity of the jews, and endeavour to stifle remorse by washing his hands before the people, saying, 'i am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it.' vainly dost thou pronounce these words, o pilate! for his blood is on thy head likewise; thou canst not wash his blood from thy soul, as thou dost from thy hands. those fearful words, 'his blood be upon us and upon our children,' had scarcely ceased to resound, when pilate commenced his preparations for passing sentence. he called for the dress which he wore on state occasions, put a species of diadem, set in precious stones, on his head, changed his mantle, and caused a staff to be carried before him. he was surrounded with soldiers, preceded by officers belonging to the tribunal, and followed by scribes, who carried rolls of parchments and books used for inscribing names and dates. one man walked in front, who carried the trumpet. the procession marched in this order from pilate's palace to the forum, where an elevated seat, used on these particular occasions, was placed opposite to the pillar where jesus was scourged. this tribunal was called gabbatha; it was a kind of round terrace, ascended by means of staircases; on the top was a seat for pilate, and behind this seat a bench for those in minor offices, while a number of soldiers were stationed round the terrace and upon the staircases. many of the pharisees had left the palace and were gone to the temple, so that annas, caiphas, and twenty-eight priests alone followed the roman governor on to the forum, and the two thieves were taken there at the time that pilate presented our saviour to the people, saying: 'ecce homo!' our lord was still clothed in his purple garment, his crown of thorns upon his head, and his hands manacled, when the archers brought him up to the tribunal, and placed him between the two malefactors. as soon as pilate was seated, he again addressed the enemies of jesus, in these words, 'behold your king!' but the cries of 'crucify him! crucify him!' resounded on all sides. 'shall i crucify your king?' said pilate. 'we have no king but caesar!' responded the high priests. pilate found it was utterly hopeless to say anything more, and therefore commenced his preparations for passing sentence. the two thieves had received their sentence of crucifixion some time before; but the high priests had obtained a respite for them, in order that our lord might suffer the additional ignominy of being executed with two criminals of the most infamous description. the crosses of the two thieves were by their sides; that intended fro our lord was not brought, because he was not as yet sentenced to death. the blessed virgin, who had retired to some distance after the scourging of jesus, again approached to hear the sentence of death pronounced upon her son and her god. jesus stood in the midst of the archers, at the foot of the staircase leading up to the tribunal. the trumpet was sounded to demand silence, and then the cowardly, the base judge, in a tremulous undecided voice, pronounced the sentence of death on the just man. the sight of the cowardice and duplicity of this despicable being, who was nevertheless puffed up with pride at his important position, almost overcame me, and the ferocious joy of the executioners--the triumphant countenances of the high priests, added to the deplorable condition to which our loving saviour was reduced, and the agonising grief of his beloved mother--still further increased my pain. i looked up again, and saw the cruel jews almost devouring their victim with their eyes, the soldiers standing coldly by, and multitudes of horrible demons passing to and fro and mixing in the crowd. i felt that i ought to have been in the place of jesus, my beloved spouse, for the sentence would not then have been unjust; but i was so overcome with anguish, and my sufferings were so intense, that i cannot exactly remember all that i did see. however, i will relate all as nearly as i can. after a long preamble, which was composed principally of the most pompous and exaggerated eulogy of the emperor tiberias, pilate spoke of the accusations which had been brought against jesus by the high priests. he said that they had condemned him to death for having disturbed the public peace, and broken their laws by calling himself the son of god and king of the jews; and that the people had unanimously demanded that their decree should be carried out. notwithstanding his oft repeated conviction of the innocence of jesus, this mean and worthless judge was not ashamed of saying that he likewise considered their decision a just one, and that he should therefore pronounce sentence--which he did in these words: 'i condemn jesus of nazareth, the king of the jews, to be crucified;' and he ordered the executioners to bring the cross. i think i remember likewise that he took a long stick in his hands, broke it, and threw the fragments at the feet of jesus. on hearing these words of pilate the mother of jesus became for a few moments totally unconscious, for she was now certain that her beloved son must die the most ignominious and the most painful of all deaths. john and the holy women carried her away, to prevent the heartless beings who surrounded them from adding crime to crime by jeering at her grief; but no sooner did she revive a little than she begged to be taken again to each spot which had been sanctified by the sufferings of her son, in order to bedew them with her tears; and thus did the mother of our lord, in the name of the church, take possession of those holy places. pilate then wrote down the sentence, and those who stood behind him copied it out three times. the words which he wrote were quite different from those he had pronounced; i could see plainly that his mind was dreadfully agitated--an angel of wrath appeared to guide his hand. the substance of the written sentence was this: 'i have been compelled, for fear of an insurrection, to yield to the wishes of the high priests, the sanhedrin, and the people, who tumultuously demanded the death of jesus of nazareth, whom they accused of having disturbed the public peace, and also of having blasphemed and broken their laws. i have given him up to them to be crucified, although their accusations appeared to be groundless. i have done so for fear of their alleging to the emperor that i encourage insurrections, and cause dissatisfaction among the jews by denying them the rights of justice.' he then wrote the inscription for the cross, while his clerks copied out the sentence several times, that these copies might be sent to distant parts of the country. the high priests were extremely dissatisfied at the words of the sentence, which they said were not true; and they clamorously surrounded the tribunal to endeavour to persuade him to alter the inscription; and not to put king of the jews, but that he said, i am the king of the jews. pilate was vexed, and answered impatiently, 'what i have written i have written!' they were likewise anxious that the cross of our lord should not be higher than those of the two thieves, but it was necessary for it to be so, because there would otherwise not have been sufficient place for pilate's inscription; they therefore endeavoured to persuade him not to have this obnoxious inscription put up at all. but pilate was determined, and their words made no impression upon him; the cross was therefore obliged to be lengthened by a fresh bit of wood. consequently the form of the cross was peculiar--the two arms stood out like the branches of a tree growing from the stem, and the shape was very like that of the letter y, with the lower part lengthened so as to rise between the arms, which had been put on separately, and were thinner than the body of the cross. a piece of wood was likewise nailed at the bottom of the cross for the feet to rest upon. during the time that pilate was pronouncing the iniquitous sentence, i saw his wife, claudia procles, send him back the pledge which he had given her, and in the evening she left his palace and joined the friends of our lord, who concealed her in a subterraneous vault in the house of lazarus at jerusalem. later in the same day, i likewise saw a friend of our lord engrave the words, judex injustus, and the name of claudia procles, on a greenlooking stone, which was behind the terrace called gabbatha--this stone is still to be found in the foundations of a church or house at jerusalem, which stands on the spot formerly called gabbatha. claudia procles became a christian, followed st. paul, and became his particular friend. no sooner had pilate pronounced sentence than jesus was given up into the hands of the archers, and the clothes which he had taken off in the court of caiphas were brought for him to put on again. i think some charitable persons had washed them, for they looked clean. the ruffians who surrounded jesus untied his hands for his dress to be changed, and roughly dragged off the scarlet mantle with which they had clothed him in mockery, thereby reopening all his wounds; he put on his own linen under-garment with trembling hands, and they threw his scapular over his shoulders. as the crown of thorns was too large and prevented the seamless robe, which his mother had made for him, from going over his head, they pulled it off violently, heedless of the pain thus inflicted upon him. his white woollen dress was next thrown over his shoulders, and then his wide belt and cloak. after this, they again tied round his waist a ring covered with sharp iron points, and to it they fastened the cords by which he was led, doing all with their usual brutal cruelty. the two thieves were standing, one on the right and the other on the left of jesus, with their hands tied and a chain round their necks; they were covered with black and lived marks, the effects of the scourging of the previous day. the demeanour of the one who was afterwards converted was quiet and peaceable, while that of the other, on the contrary, was rough and insolent, and he joined the archers in abusing and insulting jesus, who looked upon his two companions with love and compassion, and offered up his sufferings for their salvation. the archers gathered together all the implements necessary for the crucifixions, and prepared everything for the terrible and painful journey to calvary. annas and caiphas at last left off disputing with pilate, and angrily retired, taking with them the sheets of parchment on which the sentence was written; they went away in haste, fearing that they should get to the temple too late for the paschal sacrifice. thus did the high priests, unknowingly to themselves, leave the true paschal lamb. they went to a temple made of stone, to immolate and to sacrifice that lamb which was but a symbol, and they left the true paschal lamb, who was being led to the altar of the cross by the cruel executioners; they were most careful not to contract exterior defilement, while their souls were completely defiled by anger, hatred, and envy. they had said, 'his blood be upon us and upon our children!' and by these words they had performed the ceremony, and had placed the hand of the sacrificer upon the head of the victim. thus were the two paths formed--the one leading to the altar belonging to the jewish law, the other leading to the altar of grace: pilate, that proud and irresolute pagan, that slave of the world, who trembled in the presence of the true god, and yet adored his false gods, took a middle path, and returned to his palace. the iniquitous sentence was given at about ten in the morning. chapter xxx. the carrying of the cross. when pilate left the tribunal a portion of the soldiers followed him, and were drawn up in files before the palace; a few accompanying the criminals. eight-and-twenty armed pharisees came to the forum on horseback, in order to accompany jesus to the place of execution, and among these were the six enemies of jesus, who had assisted in arresting him in the garden of olives. the archers led jesus into the middle of the court, the slaves threw down the cross at his feet, and the two arms were forthwith tied on to the centre piece. jesus knelt down by its side, encircled it with his sacred arms, and kissed it three times, addressing, at the same time, a most touching prayer of thanksgiving to his heavenly father for that work of redemption which he had begun. it was the custom among pagans for the priest to embrace a new altar, and jesus in like manner embraced his cross, that august altar on which the bloody and expiatory sacrifice was about to be offered. the archers soon made him rise, and then kneel down again, and almost without any assistance, place the heavy cross on his right shoulder, supporting its great weight with his right hand. i saw angels come to his assistance, otherwise he would have been unable even to raise it from the ground. whilst he was on his knees, and still praying, the executioners put the arms of the crosses, which were a little curbed and not as yet fastened to the centre pieces, on the backs of the two thieves, and tied their hands tightly to them. the middle parts of the crosses were carried by slaves, as the transverse pieces were not to be fastened to them until just before the time of execution. the trumpet sounded to announce the departure of pilate's horsemen, and one of the pharisees belonging to the escort came up to jesus, who was still kneeling, and said, 'rise, we have had a sufficiency of thy fine speeches; rise and set off.' they pulled him roughly up, for he was totally unable to rise without assistance, and he then felt upon his shoulders the weight of that cross which we must carry after him, according to his true and holy command to follow him. thus began that triumphant march of the king of kings, a march so ignominious on earth, and so glorious in heaven. by means of ropes, which the executioners had fastened to the foot of the cross, two archers supported it to prevent its getting entangled in anything, and four other soldiers took hold of the ropes, which they had fastened to jesus underneath his clothes. the sight of our dear lord trembling beneath his burden, reminded me forcibly of isaac, when he carried the wood destined for his own sacrifice up the mountains. the trumpet of pilate was sounded as the signal for departure, for he himself intended to go to calvary at the head of a detachment of soldiers, to prevent the possibility of an insurrection. he was on horseback, in armour, surrounded by officers and a body of cavalry, and followed by about three hundred of the infantry, who came from the frontiers of italy and switzerland. the procession was headed by a trumpeter, who sounded his trumpet at every corner and proclaimed the sentence. a number of women and children walked behind the procession with ropes, nails, wedges, and baskets filled with different articles, in their hands; others, who were stronger, carried poles, ladders, and the centre pieces of the crosses of the two thieves, and some of the pharisees followed on horseback. a boy who had charge of the inscription which pilate had written for the cross, likewise carried the crown of thorns (which had been taken off the head of jesus) at the end of a long stick, but he did not appear to be wicked and hard-hearted like the rest. next i beheld our blessed saviour and redeemer--his bare feet swollen and bleeding--his back bent as though he were about to sink under the heavy weight of the cross, and his whole body covered with wounds and blood. he appeared to be half fainting from exhaustion (having had neither refreshment or sleep since the supper of the previous night), weak from loss of blood, and parched with thirst produced by fever and pain. he supported the cross on his right shoulder with his right hand, the left hung almost powerless at his side, but he endeavoured now and then to hold up his long garment to prevent his bleeding feet from getting entangled in it. the four archers who held the cords which were fastened round his waist, walked at some distance from him, the two in front pulled him on, and the two behind dragged him back, so that he could not get on at all without the greatest difficulty. his hands were cut by the cords with which they had been bound; his face bloody and disfigured; his hair and beard saturated with blood; the weight of the cross and of his chains combined to press and make the woollen dress cleave to his wounds, and reopen them: derisive and heartless words alone were addressed to him, but he continued to pray for his persecutors, and his countenance bore an expression of combined love and resignation. many soldiers under arms walked by the side of the procession, and after jesus came the two thieves, who were likewise led, the arms of their crosses, separate from the middle, being placed upon their backs, and their hands tied tightly to the two ends. they were clothed in large aprons, with a sort of sleeveless scapular which covered the upper part of their bodies, and they had straw caps upon their heads. the good thief was calm, but the other was, on the contrary furious, and never ceased cursing and swearing. the rear of the procession was brought up by the remainder of the pharisees on horseback, who rode to and fro to keep order. pilate and his courtiers were at a certain distance behind; he was in the midst of his officers clad in armour, preceded by a squadron of cavalry, and followed by three hundred foot soldiers; he crossed the forum, and then entered one of the principal streets, for he was marching through the town in order to prevent any insurrection among the people. jesus was conducted by a narrow back street, that the procession might not inconvenience the persons who were going to the temple, and likewise in order that pilate and his band might have the whole principal street entirely to themselves. the crowd had dispersed and started in different directions almost immediately after the reading of the sentence, and the greatest part of the jews either returned to their own houses, or to the temple, to hasten their preparations for sacrificing the paschal lamb; but a certain number were still hurrying on in disorder to see the melancholy procession pass; the roman soldiers prevented all persons from joining the procession, therefore the most curious were obliged to go round by back streets, or to quicken their steps so as to reach calvary before jesus. the street through which they led jesus was both narrow and dirty; he suffered much in passing through it, because the archers were close and harassed him. persons stood on the roofs of the houses, and at the windows, and insulted him with opprobrious language; the slaves who were working in the streets threw filth and mud at him; even the children, incited by his enemies, had filled their pinafores with sharp stones, which they throw down before their doors as he passed, that he might be obliged to walk over them. chapter xxxi. the first fall of jesus. the street of which we have just spoken, after turning a little to the left, became rather steep, as also wider, a subterranean aqueduct proceeding from mount sion passed under it, and in its vicinity was a hollow which was often filled with water and mud after rain, and a large stone was placed in its centre to enable persons to pass over more easily. when jesus reached this spot, his strength was perfectly exhausted; he was quite unable to move; and as the archers dragged and pushed him without showing the slightest compassion, he fell quite down against this stone, and the cross fell by his side. the cruel executioners were obliged to stop, they abused and struck him unmercifully, but the whole procession came to a standstill, which caused a degree of confusion. vainly did he hold out his hand for someone to assist him to rise: 'ah!' he exclaimed, 'all will soon be over;' and he prayed for his enemies. lift him up,' said the pharisees, 'otherwise he will die in our hands.' there were many women and children following the procession; the former wept, and the latter were frightened. jesus, however, received support from above, and raised his head; but these cruel men, far from endeavouring to alleviate his sufferings, put the crown of thorns again on his head before they pulled him out of the mud, and no sooner was he once more on his feet than they replaced the cross on his back. the crown of thorns which encircled his head increased his pain inexpressibly, and obliged him to bend on one side to give room for the cross, which lay heavily on his shoulders. chapter xxxii. the second fall of jesus. the afflicted mother of jesus had left the forum, accompanied by john and some other women, immediately after the unjust sentence was pronounced. she had employed herself in walking to many of the spots sanctified by our lord and watering them with her tears; but when the sound of the trumpet, the rush of people, and the clang of the horsemen announced that the procession was about to start for calvary, she could not resist her longing desire to behold her beloved son once more, and she begged john to take her to some place through which he must pass. john conducted her to a palace, which had an entrance in that street which jesus traversed after his first fall; it was, i believe, the residence of the high priest caiphas, whose tribunal was in the division called sion. john asked and obtained leave from a kind-hearted servant to stand at the entrance mentioned above, with mary and her companions. the mother of god was pale, her eyes were red with weeping, and she was closely wrapped in a cloak of a bluish-grey colour. the clamour and insulting speeches of the enraged multitude might be plainly heard; and a herald at that moment proclaimed in a loud voice, that three criminals were about to be crucified. the servant opened the door; the dreadful sounds became more distinct every moment; and mary threw herself on her knees. after praying fervently, she turned to john and said, 'shall i remain? ought i to go away? shall i have strength to support such a sight?' john made answer, 'if you do not remain to see him pass, you will grieve afterwards.' they remained therefore near the door, with their eyes fixed on the procession, which was still distant, but advancing by slow degrees. when those who were carrying the instruments for the execution approached, and the mother of jesus saw their insolent and triumphant looks, she could not control her feelings, but joined her hands as if to implore the help of heaven; upon which one among them said to his companions: 'what woman is that who is uttering such lamentations?' another answered: 'she is the mother of the galilean.' when the cruel men heard this, far from being moved to compassion, they began to make game of the grief of this most afflicted mother: they pointed at her, and one of them took the nails which were to be used for fastening jesus to the cross, and presented them to her in an insulting manner; but she turned away, fixed her eyes upon jesus, who was drawing near, and leant against the pillar for support, lest she should again faint from grief, for her cheeks were as pale as death, and her lips almost blue. the pharisees on horseback passed by first, followed by the boy who carried the inscription. then came her beloved son. he was almost sinking under the heavy weight of his cross, and his head, still crowned with thorns, was drooping in agony on his shoulder. he cast a look of compassion and sorrow upon his mother, staggered, and fell for the second time upon his hands and knees. mary was perfectly agonised at this sight; she forgot all else; she saw neither soldiers nor executioners; she saw nothing but her dearly-loved son; and, springing from the doorway into the midst of the group who were insulting and abusing him, she threw herself on her knees by his side and embraced him. the only words i heard were, 'beloved son!' and 'mother!' but i do not know whether these words were really uttered, or whether they were only in my own mind. a momentary confusion ensued. john and the holy women endeavoured to raise mary from the ground, and the archers reproached her, one of them saying, 'what hast thou to do her, woman? he would not have been in our hands if he had been better brought up.' a few of the soldiers looked touched; and, although they obliged the blessed virgin to retire to the doorway, not one laid hands upon her. john and the women surrounded her as she fell half fainting against a stone, which was near the doorway, and upon which the impression of her hands remained. this stone was very hard, and was afterwards removed to the first catholic church built in jerusalem, near the pool of bethsaida, during the time that st. james the less was bishop of that city. the two disciples who were with the mother of jesus carried her into the house, and the door was shut. in the mean time the archers had raised jesus, and obliged him to carry the cross in a different manner. its arm being unfastened from the centre, and entangled in the ropes with which he was bound, he supported them on his arm, and by this means the weight of the body of the cross was a little taken off, as it dragged more on the ground. i saw numbers of persons standing about in groups, the greatest part amusing themselves by insulting our lord in different ways, but a few veiled females were weeping. chapter xxxiii. simon of cyrene. third fall of jesus. the procession had reached an arch formed in an old wall belonging to the town, opposite to a square, in which three streets terminated, when jesus stumbled against a large stone which was placed in the middle of the archway, the cross slipped from his shoulder, he fell upon the stone, and was totally unable to rise. many respectable-looking persons who were on their way to the temple stopped, and exclaimed compassionately: 'look at that poor man, he is certainly dying!' but his enemies showed no compassion. this fall caused a fresh delay, as our lord could not stand up again, and the pharisees said to the soldiers: 'we shall never get him to the place of execution alive, if you do not find someone to carry his cross.' at this moment simon of cyrene, a pagan, happened to pass by, accompanied by his three children. he was a gardener, just returning home after working in a garden near the eastern wall of the city, and carrying a bundle of lopped branches. the soldiers perceiving by his dress that he was a pagan, seized him, and ordered him to assist jesus in carrying his cross. he refused at first, but was soon compelled to obey, although his children, being frightened, cried and made a great noise, upon which some women quieted and took charge of them. simon was much annoyed, and expressed the greatest vexation at being obliged to walk with a man in so deplorable a condition of dirt and misery; but jesus wept, and cast such a mild and heavenly look upon him that he was touched, and instead of continuing to show reluctance, helped him to rise, while the executioners fastened one arm of the cross on his shoulders, and he walked behind our lord, thus relieving him in a great measure from its weight; and when all was arranged, the procession moved forward. simon was a stout-looking man, apparently about forty years of age. his children were dressed in tunics made of a variegated material; the two eldest, named rufus and alexander, afterwards joined the disciples; the third was much younger, but a few years later went to live with st. stephen. simon had not carried the cross after jesus any length of time before he felt his heart deeply touched by grace. chapter xxxiv. the veil of veronica. while the procession was passing through a long street, an incident took place which made a strong impression upon simon. numbers of respectable persons were hurrying towards the temple, of whom many got out of the way when they saw jesus, from a pharisaical fear of defilement, while others, on the contrary, stopped and expressed pity for his sufferings. but when the procession had advanced about two hundred steps from the spot where simon began to assist our lord in carrying his cross, the door of a beautiful house on the left opened, and a woman of majestic appearance, holding a young girl by the hand, came out, and walked up to the very head of the procession. seraphia was the name of the brave woman who thus dared to confront the enraged multitude; she was the wife of sirach, one of the councillors belonging to the temple, and was afterwards known by the name of veronica, which name was given from the words vera icon (true portrait), to commemorate her brave conduct on this day. seraphia had prepared some excellent aromatic wine, which she piously intended to present to our lord to refresh him on his dolorous way to calvary. she had been standing in the street for some time, and at last went back into the house to wait. she was, when i first saw her, enveloped in a long veil, and holding a little girl of nine years of age, whom she had adopted, by the hand; a large veil was likewise hanging on her arm, and the little girl endeavoured to hide the jar of wine when the procession approached. those who were marching at the head of the procession tried to push her back; but she made her way through the mob, the soldiers, and the archers, reached jesus, fell on her knees before him, and presented the veil, saying at the same time, 'permit me to wipe the face of my lord.' jesus took the veil in his left hand, wiped his bleeding face, and returned it with thanks. seraphia kissed it, and put it under her cloak. the girl then timidly offered the wine, but the brutal soldiers would not allow jesus to drink it. the suddenness of this courageous act of seraphia had surprised the guards, and caused a momentary although unintentional halt, of which she had taken advantage to present the veil to her divine master. both the pharisees and the guards were greatly exasperated, not only by the sudden halt, but much more by the public testimony of veneration which was thus paid to jesus, and they revenged themselves by striking and abusing him, while seraphia returned in haste to her house. no sooner did she reach her room than she placed the woollen veil on a table, and fell almost senseless on her knees. a friend who entered the room a short time after, found her thus kneeling, with the child weeping by her side, and saw, to his astonishment, the bloody countenance of our lord imprinted upon the veil, a perfect likeness, although heartrending and painful to look upon. he roused seraphia, and pointed to the veil. she again knelt down before it, and exclaimed through her tears, 'now i shall indeed leave all with a happy heart, for my lord has given me a remembrance of himself.' the texture of this veil was a species of very fine wool; it was three times the length of its width, and was generally worn on the shoulders. it was customary to present these veil to persons who were in affliction, or overfatigued, or ill, that they might wipe their faces with them, and it was done in order to express sympathy or compassion. veronica kept this veil until her death, and hung it at the head of her bed; it was then given to the blessed virgin, who left it to the apostles and they afterwards passed it on to the church. seraphis and john the baptist were cousins, her father and zacharias being brothers. when joachim and anna brought the blessed virgin, who was then only four years old, up to jerusalem, to place her among the virgins in the temple, they lodged in the house of zacharias, which was situated near the fish-market. seraphia was at least five years older than the blessed virgin, was present at her marriage with st. joseph, and was likewise related to the aged simeon, who prophesied when the child jesus was put into his arms. she was brought up with his sons, both of whom, as well as seraphia, he imbued with his ardent desire of seeing our lord. when jesus was twelve years old, and remained teaching in the temple, seraphia, who was not then married, sent food for him every day to a little inn, a quarter of a mile from jerusalem, where he dwelt when he was not in the temple. mary wet there for two days, when on her way from bethlehem to jerusalem to offer her child in the temple. the two old men who kept this inn were essenians, and well acquainted with the holy family; it contained a kind of foundation for the poor, and jesus and his disciples often went there for a night's lodging. seraphia married rather late in life; her husband, sirach, was descended from the chaste susannah, and was a member of the sanhedrin. he was at first greatly opposed to our lord, and his wife suffered much on account of her attachment to jesus, and to the holy women, but joseph of arimathea and nicodemus brought him to a better state of feeling, and he allowed seraphia to follow our lord. when jesus was unjustly accused in the court of caiphas, the husband of seraphia joined with joseph and nicodemus in attempts to obtain the liberation of our lord, and all three resigned their seats in the council. seraphia was about fifty at the time of the triumphant procession of our lord when he entered into jerusalem on palm sunday, and i then saw her take off her veil and spread it on the ground for him to walk upon. it was this same veil, which she presented to jesus, at this his second procession, a procession which outwardly appeared to be far less glorious, but was in fact much more so. this veil obtained for her the name of veronica, and it is still shown for the veneration of the faithful. chapter xxxv. the fourth and fifth falls of jesus. the daughters of jerusalem. the procession was still at some distance from the south-west gate, which was large, and attached to the fortifications, and the street was rough and steep; it had first to pass under a vaulted arch, then over a bridge, and finally under a second arch. the wall on the left side of the gate runs first in southerly direction, then deviates a little to the west, and finally runs to the south behind mount sion. when the procession was near this gate, the brutal archers shoved jesus into a stagnant pool, which was close to it; simon of cyrene, in his endeavours to avoid the pool, gave the cross a twist, which caused jesus to fall down for the fourth time in the midst of the dirty mud, and simon had the greatest difficulty in lifting up the cross again. jesus then exclaimed in a tone which, although clear, was moving and sad: 'jerusalem, jerusalem, how often would i have gathered together thy children as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and thou wouldst not!' when the pharisees heard these words, they became still more angry, and recommencing their insults and blows endeavoured to force him to get up out of the mud. their cruelty to jesus so exasperated simon of cyrene that he at last exclaimed, 'if you continue this brutal conduct, i will throw down the cross and carry it no farther. i will do so if you kill me for it.' a narrow and stony path was visible as soon as the gate was passed, and this path ran in a northerly direction, and led to calvary. the high road from which it deviates divided shortly after into three branches, one to the south-west, which led to bethlehem, through the vale of gihon; a second to the south towards emmaus and joppa; a third, likewise to the south-west, wound round calvary, and terminated at the gate which led to bethsur. a person standing at the gate through which jesus was led might easily see the gate of bethlehem. the officers had fastened an inscription upon a post which stood at the commencement of the road to calvary, to inform those who passed by that jesus and the two thieves were condemned to death. a group of women had gathered together near this spot, and were weeping and lamenting; many carried young children in their arms; the greatest part were young maidens and women from jerusalem, who had preceded the procession, but a few came from bethlehem, from hebron, and from other neighbouring places, in order to celebrate the pasch. jesus was on the point of again falling, but simon, who was behind, perceiving that he could not stand, hastened to support him; he leant upon simon, and was thus saved from falling to the ground. when the women and children of whom we have spoken above, saw the deplorable condition to which our lord was reduced, they uttered loud cries, wept, and, according to the jewish custom, presented him cloths to wipe his face. jesus turned towards them and said: 'daughters of jerusalem, weep not over me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. for behold the days shall come wherein they will say: blessed are the barren, and the wombs that have not borne, and the papas that have not given suck. then shall they begin to say to the mountains: fall upon us, and to the hills: cover us. for if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be done in the dry?' he then addressed a few words of consolation to hem, which i do not exactly remember. the procession made a momentary halt. the executioners, who set of first, had reached calvary with the instruments for the execution, and were followed by a hundred of the roman soldiers who had started with pilate; he only accompanied the procession as far as the gateway, and returned to the town. chapter xxxvi. jesus on mount golgotha. sixth and seventh falls of jesus. the procession again moved on; the road was very steep and rough between the walls of the town and calvary, and jesus had the greatest difficulty in walking with his heavy burden on his shoulders; but his cruel enemies, far from feeling the slightest compassion, or giving the least assistance, continued to urge him on by the infliction of hard blows, and the utterance of dreadful curses. at last they reached a spot where the pathway turned suddenly to the south; here he stumbled and fell for the sixth time. the fall was a dreadful one, but the guards only struck him the harder to force him to get up, and no sooner did he reach calvary that he sank down again for the seventh time. simon of cyrene was filled with indignation and pity; notwithstanding his fatigue, he wished to remain that he might assist jesus, but the archers first reviled, and then drove him away, and he soon after joined the body of disciples. the executioners then ordered the workmen and the boys who had carried the instruments of the execution to depart, and the pharisees soon arrived, for they were on horseback, and had taken the smooth and easy road which ran to the east of calvary. there was a fine view of the whole town of jerusalem from the top of calvary. this top was circular, and about the size of an ordinary ridingschool, surrounded by a low wall, and with five separate entrances. this appeared to be the usual number in those parts, for there were five roads at the baths, at the place where they baptised, at the pool of bethsaida, and there were likewise many towns with five gates. in this, as in many other peculiarities of the holy land, there was a deep prophetic signification; that number five, which so often occurred, was a type of those five sacred wound of our blessed saviour, which were to open to us the gates of heaven. the horsemen stopped on the west side of the mount, where the declivity was not so steep; for the side up which the criminals were brought was both rough and steep. about a hundred soldiers were stationed on different parts of the mountain, and as space was required, the thieves were not brought to the top, but ordered to halt before they reached it, and to lie on the ground with their arms fastened to their crosses. soldiers stood around and guarded them, while crowds of persons who did not fear defiling themselves, stood near the platform or on the neighbouring heights; these were mostly of the lower classes--strangers, slaves, and pagans, and a number of them were women. it wanted about a quarter to twelve when jesus, loaded with his cross, sank down at the precise spot where he was to be crucified. the barbarous executioners dragged him up by the cords which they had fastened round his waist, and then untied the arms of the cross, and threw them on the ground. the sight of our blessed lord at this moment was, indeed, calculated to move the hardest heart to compassion; he stood or rather bent over the cross, being scarcely able to support himself; his heavenly countenance was pale and was as that of a person on the verge of death, although wounds and blood disfigured it to a frightful degree; but the hearts of these cruel men were, alas! harder than iron itself, and far from showing the slightest commiseration, they threw him brutally down, exclaiming in a jeering tone, 'most powerful king, we are about to prepare thy throne.' jesus immediately placed himself upon the cross, and they measured him and marked the places for his feet and hands; whilst the pharisees continued to insult their unresisting victim. when the measurement was finished, they led him to a cave cut in the rock, which had been used formerly as a cellar, opened the door, and pushed him in so roughly that had it not been for the support of angels, his legs must have been broken by so hard a fall on the rough stone floor. i most distinctly heard his groans of pain, but they closed the door quickly, and placed guards before it, and the archers continued their preparations for the crucifixion. the centre of the platform mentioned above was the most elevated part of calvary,--it was a round eminence, about two feet high, and persons were obliged to ascend two of three steps to reach its top. the executioners dug the holes for the three crosses at the top of this eminence, and placed those intended for the thieves one on the right and the other on the left of our lord's; both were lower and more roughly made than his. they then carried the cross of our saviour to the spot where they intended to crucify him, and placed it in such a position that it would easily fall into the hole prepared for it. they fastened the two arms strongly on to the body of the cross, nailed the board at the bottom which was to support the feet, bored the holes for the nails, and cut different hollows in the wood in the parts which would receive the head and back of our lord, in order that his body might rest against the cross, instead of being suspended from it. their aim in this was the prolongation of his tortures, for if the whole weight of this body was allowed to fall upon the hands the holes might be quite torn open, and death ensue more speedily than they desired. the executioners then drove into the ground the pieces of wood which were intended to keep the cross upright, and made a few other similar preparations. chapter xxxvii. the departure of mary and the holy women of calvary. although the blessed virgin was carried away fainting after the sad meeting with her son loaded with his cross, yet she soon recovered consciousness; for love, and the ardent desire of seeing him once more, imparted to her a supernatural feeling of strength. accompanied by her companions she went to the house of lazarus, which was at the bottom of the town, and where martha, magdalen, and many holy women were already assembled. all were sad and depressed, but magdalen could not restrain her tears and lamentations. they started from this house, about seventeen in number, to make the way of the cross, that is to say, to follow every step jesus had taken in this most painful journey. mary counted each footstep, and being interiorly enlightened, pointed out to her companions those places which had been consecrated by peculiar sufferings. then did the sharp sword predicted by aged simeon impress for the first time in the heart of mary that touching devotion which has since been so constantly practised in the church. mary imparted it to her companions, and they in their turn left it to future generations,--a most precious gift indeed, bestowed by our lord on his beloved mother, and which passed from her heart to the hearts of her children through the revered voice of tradition. when these holy women reached the house of veronica they entered it, because pilate and his officers were at that moment passing through the street, on their way home. they burst forth into unrestrained tears when they beheld the countenance of jesus imprinted on the veil, and they returned thanks to god for the favour he had bestowed on his faithful servant. they took the jar of aromatic wine which the jews had prevented jesus from drinking, and set off together towards golgotha. their number was considerably increased, for many pious men and women whom the sufferings of our lord had filled with pity had joined them, and they ascended the west side of calvary, as the declivity there was not so great. the mother of jesus, accompanied by her niece, mary (the daughter of cleophas), john, and salome went quite up to the round platform; but martha, mary of heli, veronica, johanna chusa, susanna, and mary, the mother of mark, remained below with magdalen, who could hardly support herself. lower down on the mountain there was a third group of holy women, and there were a few scattered individuals between the three groups, who carried messages from one to the other. the pharisees on horseback rode to and fro among the people, and the five entrances were guarded by roman soldiers. mary kept her eyes fixed on the fatal spot, and stood as if entranced,--it was indeed a sight calculated to appal and rend the heart of a mother. there lay the terrible cross, the hammers, the ropes, the nails, and alongside of these frightful instruments to torture stood the brutal executioners, half drunk, and almost without clothing, swearing and blaspheming, whilst making their preparations. the sufferings of the blessed virgin were greatly increased by her not being able to see her son; she knew that he was still alive, and she felt the most ardent desire once more to behold him, while the thought of the torments he still had to endure made her heart ready to burst with grief. a little hail had been falling at times during the morning, but the sun came out again after ten o'clock, and a thick red fog began to obscure it towards twelve. chapter xxxviii. the nailing of jesus to the cross. the preparations for the crucifixion being finished four archers went to the cave where they had confined our lord and dragged him out with their usual brutality, while the mob looked on and made use of insulting language, and the roman soldiers regarded all with indifference, and thought of nothing but maintaining order. when jesus was again brought forth, the holy women gave a man some money, and begged him to pay the archer anything they might demand if they would allow jesus to drink the wine which veronica had prepared; but the cruel executioners, instead of giving it to jesus, drank it themselves. they had brought two vases with them, one of which contained vinegar and gall, and the other a mixture which looked like wine mixed with myrrh and absinthe; they offered a glass of the latter to our lord, which he tasted, but would not drink. there were eighteen archers on the platform; the six who had scourged jesus, the four who had conducted him to calvary, the two who held the ropes which supported the cross, and six others who came for the purpose of crucifying him. they were strangers in the pay of either the jews or the romans, and were short thick-set men, with most ferocious countenances, rather resembling wild beasts than human beings, and employing themselves alternately in drinking and in making preparations for the crucifixion. this scene was rendered the more frightful to me by the sight of demons, who were invisible to others, and i saw large bodies of evil spirits under the forms of toads, serpents, sharp-clawed dragons, and venomous insects, urging these wicked men to still greater cruelty, and perfectly darkening the air. they crept into the mouths and into the hearts of the assistants, sat upon their shoulders, filled their minds with wicked images, and incited them to revile and insult our lord with still greater brutality. weeping angels, however, stood around jesus, and the sight of their tears consoled me not a little, and they were accompanied by little angels of glory, whose heads alone i saw. there were likewise angels of pity and angels of consolation among them; the latter frequently approached the blessed virgin and the rest of the pious persons who were assembled there, and whispered words of comfort which enabled them to bear up with firmness. the executioners soon pulled off our lord's cloak, the belt to which the ropes were fastened, and his own belt, when they found it was impossible to drag the woollen garment which his mother had woven for him over his head, on account of the crown of thorns; they tore off this most painful crown, thus reopening every wound, and seizing the garment, tore it mercilessly over his bleeding and wounded head. our dear lord and saviour then stood before his cruel enemies, stripped of all save the short scapular which was on his shoulders, and the linen which girded his loins. his scapular was of wool; the wool had stuck to the wounds, and indescribable was the agony of pain he suffered when they pulled it roughly off. he shook like the aspen as he stood before them, for he was so weakened from suffering and loss of blood that he could not support himself for more than a few moments; he was covered with open wounds, and his shoulders and back were torn to the bone by the dreadful scourging he had endured. he was about to fall when the executioners, fearing that he might die, and thus deprive them of the barbarous pleasure of crucifying him, led him to a large stone and placed him roughly down upon it, but no sooner was he seated than they aggravated his sufferings by putting the crown of thorns again upon his head. they then offered him some vinegar and gall, from which, however, he turned away in silence. the executioners did not allow him to rest long, but bade him rise and place himself on the cross that they might nail him to it. then seizing his right arm they dragged it to the hole prepared for the nail, and having tied it tightly down with a cord, one of them knelt upon his sacred chest, a second held his hand flat, and a third taking a long thick nail, pressed it on the open palm of that adorable hand, which had ever been open to bestow blessings and favours on the ungrateful jews, and with a great iron hammer drove it through the flesh, and far into the wood of the cross. our lord uttered one deep but suppressed groan, and his blood gushed forth and sprinkled the arms of the archers. i counted the blows of the hammer, but my extreme grief made me forget their number. the nails were very large, the heads about the size of a crown piece, and the thickness that of a man's thumb, while the points came through at the back of the cross. the blessed virgin stood motionless; from time to time you might distinguish her plaintive moans; she appeared as if almost fainting from grief, and magdalen was quite beside herself. when the executioners had nailed the right hand of our lord, they perceived that his left hand did not reach the hole they had bored to receive the nail, therefore they tied ropes to his left arm, and having steadied their feet against the cross, pulled the left hand violently until it reached the place prepared for it. this dreadful process caused our lord indescribable agony, his breast heaved, and his legs were quite contracted. they again knelt upon him, tied down his arms, and drove the second nail into his left hand; his blood flowed afresh, and his feeble groans were once more heard between the blows of the hammer, but nothing could move the hard-hearted executioners to the slightest pity. the arms of jesus, thus unnaturally stretched out, no longer covered the arms of the cross, which were sloped; there was a wide space between them and his armpits. each additional torture and insult inflicted on our lord caused a fresh pang in the heart of his blessed mother; she became white as a corpse, but as the pharisees endeavoured to increase her pain by insulting words and gestures, the disciples led her to a group of pious women who were standing a little farther off. the executioners had fastened a piece of wood at the lower part of the cross under where the feet of jesus would be nailed, that thus the weight of his body might not rest upon the wounds of his hands, as also to prevent the bones of his feet from being broken when nailed to the cross. a hole had been pierced in this wood to receive the nail when driven through his feet, and there was likewise a little hollow place for his heels. these precautions were taken lest his wounds should be torn open by the weight of this body, and death ensue before he had suffered all the tortures which they hoped to see him endure. the whole body of our lord had been dragged upward, and contracted by the violent manner with which the executioners had stretched out his arms, and his knees were bent up; they therefore flattened and tied them down tightly with cords; but soon perceiving that his feet did not reach the bit of wood which was placed for them to rest upon, they became infuriated. some of their number proposed making fresh holes for the nails which pierced his hands, as there would be considerable difficulty in removing the bit of wood, but the others would do nothing of the sort, and continued to vociferate, 'he will not stretch himself out, but we will help him;' they accompanied these words with the most fearful oaths and imprecations, and having fastened a rope to his right leg, dragged it violently until it reached the wood, and then tied it down as tightly as possible. the agony which jesus suffered from this violent tension was indescribable; the words 'my god, my god,' escaped his lips, and the executioners increased his pain by tying his chest and arms to the cross, lest the hands should be torn from the nails. they then fastened his left foot on to his right foot, having first bored a hole through them with a species of piercer, because they could not be placed in such a position as to be nailed together at once. next they took a very long nail and drove it completely through both feet into the cross below, which operation was more than usually painful, on account of his body being so unnaturally stretched out; i counted at least six and thirty blows of the hammer. during the whole time of the crucifixion our lord never ceased praying, and repeating those passages in the psalms which he was then accompanying, although from time to time a feeble moan caused by excess of suffering might be heard. in this manner he had prayed when carrying his cross, and thus he continued to pray until his death. i heard him repeat all these prophecies; i repeated them after him, and i have often since noted the different passages when reading the psalms, but i now feel so exhausted with grief that i cannot at all connect them. when the crucifixion of jesus was finished, the commander of the roman soldiers ordered pilate's inscription to be nailed on the top of the cross. the pharisees were much incensed at this, and their anger was increased by the jeers of the roman soldiers, who pointed at their crucified king; they therefore hastened back to jerusalem, determined to use their best endeavours to persuade the governor to allow them to substitute another inscription. it was about a quarter past twelve when jesus was crucified, and at the moment the cross was lifted up, the temple resounded with the blast of trumpets, which were always blown to announce the sacrifice of the paschal lamb. chapter xxxix. raising of the cross. when the executioners had finished the crucifixion of our lord, they tied ropes to the trunk of the cross, and fastened the ends of these ropes round a long beam which was fixed firmly in the ground at a little distance, and by means of these ropes they raised the cross. some of their number supported it while others shoved its foot towards the hole prepared for its reception--the heavy cross fell into this hole with a frightful shock--jesus uttered a faint cry, and his wounds were torn open in the most fearful manner, his blood again burst forth, and his half dislocated bones knocked one against the other. the archers pushed the cross to get it thoroughly into the hole, and caused it to vibrate still more by planting five stakes around to support it. a terrible, but at the same time a touching sight it was to behold the cross raised up in the midst of the vast concourse of persons who were assembled all around; not only insulting soldiers, proud pharisees, and the brutal jewish mob were there, but likewise strangers from all parts. the air resounded with acclamations and derisive cries when they beheld it towering on high, and after vibrating for a moment in the air, fall with a heavy crash into the hole cut for it in the rock. but words of love and compassion resounded through the air at the same moment; and need we say that these words, these sounds, were emitted by the most saintly of human beings--mary--john--the holy women, and all who were pure of heart? they bowed down and adored the 'word made flesh,' nailed to the cross; they stretched forth their hands as if desirous of giving assistance to the holy of holies, whom they beheld nailed to a cross and in the power of his furious enemies. but when the solemn sound of the fall of the cross into the hole prepared for it in the rock was heard, a dead silence ensued, every heart was filled with an indefinable feeling of awe--a feeling never before experienced, and for which no one could account, even to himself; all the inmates of hell shook with terror, and vented their rage by endeavouring to stimulate the enemies of jesus to still greater fury and brutality; the souls in limbo were filled with joy and hope, for the sound was to them a harbinger of happiness, the prelude to the appearance of their deliverer. thus was the blessed cross of our lord planted for the first time on the earth; and well might it be compared to the tree of life in paradise, for the wounds of jesus were as sacred fountains, from which flowed four rivers destined both to purify the world from the curse of sin, and to give it fertility, so as to produce fruit unto salvation. the eminence on which the cross was planted was about two feet higher than the surrounding parts; the feet of jesus were sufficiently near the ground for his friends to be able to reach to kiss them, and his face was turned to the north-west. chapter xl. crucifixion of the thieves. during the time of the crucifixion of jesus, the two thieves were left lying on the ground at some distance off; their arms were fastened to the crosses on which they were to be executed, and a few soldiers stood near on guard. the accusation which had been proved against them was that of having assassinated a jewish woman who, with her children, was travelling from jerusalem to joppa. they were arrested, under the disguise of rich merchants, at a castle in which pilate resided occasionally, when employed in exercising his troops, and they had been imprisoned for a long time before being brought to trial. the thief placed on the left-hand side was much older than the other; a regular miscreant, who had corrupted the younger. they were commonly called dismas and gesmas, and as i forget their real names i shall distinguish them by these terms, calling the good one dismas, and the wicked one gesmas. both the one and the other belonged to a band of robbers who infested the frontiers of egypt; and it was in a cave inhabited by these robbers that the holy family took refuge when flying into egypt, at the time of the massacre of the innocents. the poor leprous child, who was instantly cleansed by being dipped in the water which had been used for washing the infant jesus, was no other than this dismas, and the charity of his mother, in receiving and granting hospitality to the holy family, had been rewarded by the cure of her child; while this outward purification was an emblem of the inward purification which was afterwards accomplished in the soul of dismas on mount calvary, through that sacred blood which was then shed on the cross for our redemption. dismas knew nothing at all about jesus, but as his heart was not hardened, the sight of the extreme patience of our lord moved him much. when the executioners had finished putting up the cross of jesus, they ordered the thieves to rise without delay, and they loosened their fetters in order to crucify them at once, as the sky was becoming very cloudy and bore every appearance of an approaching storm. after giving them some myrrh and vinegar, they stripped off their ragged clothing, tied ropes round their arms, and by the help of small ladders dragged them up to their places on the cross. the executioners then bound the arms of the thieves to the cross, with cords made of the bark of trees, and fastened their wrists, elbows, knees, and feet in like manner, drawing the cords so tight that their joints cracked, and the blood burst out. they uttered piercing cries, and the good thief exclaimed as they were drawing him up, 'this torture is dreadful, but if they had treated us as they treated the poor galilean, we should have been dead long ago.' the executioners had divided the garments of jesus, in order to draw lots for them; his mantle, which was narrow at the top, was very wide at the bottom, and lined over the chest, thus forming a pocket between the lining and the material itself; the lining they pulled out, tore into bands, and divided. they did the same with his long white robe, belt, scapular, and under-garment, which was completely saturated with his sacred blood. not being able to agree as to who was to be the possessor of the seamless robe woven by his mother, which could not be cut up and divided, they brought out a species of chessboard marked with figures, and were about to decide the point by lots, when a messenger, sent by nicodemus and joseph of arimathea, informed them that there were persons ready to purchase all the clothes of jesus; they therefore gathered them together and sold them in a bundle. thus did the christians get possession of these precious relics. chapter xli. jesus hanging on the cross between two thieves. the tremendous concussion caused by the fall of the cross into the hole prepared for it drove the sharp points of the crown of thorns, which was still upon the head of our dear saviour, still deeper into his sacred flesh, and blood ran down again in streams, both from it and from his hands and feet. the archers then placed ladders against the sides of the cross, mounted them and unfastened the ropes with which they had bound our lord to the cross, previous to lifting it up, fearing that the shock might tear open the wounds in his hands and feet, and that then the nails would no longer support his body. his blood had become, in a certain degree, stagnated by his horizontal position and the pressure of the cords, but when these were withdrawn, it resumed its usual course, and caused such agonising sensations throughout his countless wounds, that he bowed his head, and remained as if dead for more than seven minutes. a pause ensued; the executioners were occupied with the division of his garments; the trumpets in the temple no longer resounded; and all the actors in this fearful tragedy appeared to be exhausted, some by grief, and others by the efforts they had made to compass their wicked ends, and by the joy which they felt now at having at last succeeded in bringing about the death of him whom they had so long envied. with mixed feelings of fear and compassion i cast my eyes upon jesus,--jesus my redeemer,--the redeemer of the world. i beheld him motionless, and almost lifeless. i felt as if i myself must expire; my heart was overwhelmed between grief, love, and horror; my mind was half wandering, my hands and feet burning with a feverish heat; each vein, nerve, and limb was racked with inexpressible pain; i saw nothing distinctly, excepting my beloved spouse hanging on the cross. i contemplated his disfigured countenance, his head encircled with that terrible crown of thorns, which prevented his raising it even for a moment without the most intense suffering, his mouth parched and half open from exhaustion, and his hair and beard clotted with blood. his chest was torn with stripes and wounds, and his elbows, wrists, and shoulders so violently distended as to be almost dislocated; blood constantly trickled down from the gaping wounds in his hands, and the flesh was so torn from his ribs that you might almost count them. his legs and thighs, as also his arms, were stretched out almost to dislocation, the flesh and muscles so completely laid bare that every bone was visible, and his whole body covered with black, green, and reeking wounds. the blood which flowed from his wounds was at first red, but it became by degrees light and watery, and the whole appearance of his body was that of a corpse ready for interment. and yet, notwithstanding the horrible wounds with which he was covered, notwithstanding the state of ignominy to which he was reduced, there still remained that inexpressible look of dignity and goodness which had ever filled all beholders with awe. the complexion of our lord was fair, like that of mary, and slightly tinted with red; but his exposure to the weather during the last three years had tanned him considerably. his chest was wide, but not hairy like that of st. john baptist; his shoulders broad, and his arms and thighs sinewy; his knees were strong and hardened, as is usually the case with those who have either walked or knelt much, and his legs long, with very strong muscles; his feet were well formed, and his hands beautiful, the fingers being long and tapering, and although not delicate like those of a woman, still not resembling those of a man who had laboured hard. his neck was rather long, with a well-set and finely proportioned head; his forehead large and high; his face oval; his hair, which was far from thick, was of a golden brown colour, parted in the middle and falling over his shoulders; his beard was not any great length, but pointed and divided under the chin. when i contemplated him on the cross, his hair was almost all torn off, and what remained was matted and clotted with blood; his body was one wound, and every limb seemed as if dislocated. the crosses of the two thieves were placed, the one to the right and the other to the left of jesus; there was sufficient space left for a horseman to ride between them. nothing can be imagined more distressing than the appearance of the thieves on their crosses; they suffered terribly, and the one on the left-hand side never ceased cursing and swearing. the cords with which they were tied were very tight, and caused great pain; their countenances were livid, and their eyes enflamed and ready to start from the sockets. the height of the crosses of the two thieves was much less than that of our lord. chapter xlii. first word of jesus on the cross. as soon as the executioners had crucified the two thieves and divided the garment of jesus between them, they gathered up their tools, addressed a few more insulting words to our lord, and went away. the pharisees, likewise, rode up to jesus, looked at him scornfully, made use of some opprobrious expression, and then left the place. the roman soldiers, of whom a hundred had been posted round calvary, were marched away, and their places filled by fifty others, the command of whom was given to abenadar, an arab by birth, who afterwards took the name of ctesiphon in baptism; and the second in command was cassius, who, when he became a christian, was known by the name of longinus: pilate frequently made use of him as a messenger. twelve pharisees, twelve sadducees, as many scribes, and a few ancients, accompanied by those jews who had been endeavouring to persuade pilate to change the inscription on the cross of jesus, then came up: they were furious, as the roman governor had given them a direct refusal. they rode round the platform, and drove away the blessed virgin, whom st. john led to the holy women. when they passed the cross of jesus, they shook their heads disdainfully at him, exclaiming at the same time, 'vah! thou that destroyest the temple of god, and in three days buildest it up again, save thyself, coming down from the cross. let christ, the king of israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.' the soldiers, likewise, made use of deriding language. the countenance and whole body of jesus became even more colourless: he appeared to be on the point of fainting, and gesmas (the wicked thief) exclaimed, 'the demon by whom he is possessed is about to leave him.' a soldier then took a sponge, filled it with vinegar, put it on a reed, and presented it to jesus, who appeared to drink. 'if thou art the king of the jews,' said the soldier, 'save thyself, coming down from the cross.' these things took place during the time that the first band of soldiers was being relieved by that of abenadar. jesus raised his head a little, and said, 'father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' and gesmas cried out, 'if thou art the christ, save thyself and us.' dismas (the good thief) was silent, but he was deeply moved at the prayer of jesus for his enemies. when mary heard the voice of her son, unable to restrain herself, she rushed forward, followed by john, salome, and mary of cleophas, and approached the cross, which the kind-hearted centurion did not prevent. the prayers of jesus obtained for the good thief a moist powerful grace; he suddenly remembered that it was jesus and mary who had cured him of leprosy in his childhood, and he exclaimed in a loud and clear voice, 'how can you insult him when he prays for you? he has been silent, and suffered all your outrages with patience; he is truly a prophet--he is our king--he is the son of god.' this unexpected reproof from the lips of a miserable malefactor who was dying on a cross caused a tremendous commotion among the spectators; they gathered up stones, and wished to throw them at him; but the centurion abenadar would not allow it. the blessed virgin was much comforted and strengthened by the prayer of jesus, and dismas said to gesmas, who was still blaspheming jesus, 'neither dost thou fear god, seeing thou art under the same condemnation. and we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this man hath done no evil. remember thou art now at the point of death, and repent.' he was enlightened and touched: he confessed his sins to jesus, and said: 'lord, if thou condemnest me it will be with justice.' and jesus replied, 'thou shalt experience my mercy.' dismas, filled with the most perfect contrition, began instantly to thank god for the great graces he had received, and to reflect over the manifold sins of his past life. all these events took place between twelve and the half-hour shortly after the crucifixion; but such a surprising change had taken place in the appearance of nature during that time as to astonish the beholders and fill their minds with awe and terror. chapter xliii. eclipse of the sun. second and third word of jesus on the cross. a little hail had fallen at about ten o'clock,--when pilate was passing sentence,--and after that the weather cleared up, until towards twelve, when the thick red-looking fog began to obscure the sun. towards the sixth hour, according to the manner of counting of the jews, the sun was suddenly darkened. i was shown the exact cause of this wonderful phenomenon; but i have unfortunately partly forgotten it, and what i have not forgotten i cannot find words to express; but i was lifted up from the earth, and beheld the stars and the planets moving about out of their proper spheres. i saw the moon like an immense ball of fire rolling along as if flying from the earth. i was then suddenly taken back to jerusalem, and i beheld the moon reappear behind the mountain of olives, looking pale and full, and advancing rapidly towards the sun, which was dim and over-shrouded by a fog. i saw to the east of the sun a large dark body which had the appearance of a mountain, and which soon entirely hid the sun. the centre of this body was dark yellow, and a red circle like a ring of fire was round it. the sky grew darker and the stars appeared to cast a red and lurid light. both men and beasts were struck with terror; the enemies of jesus ceased reviling him, while the pharisees endeavoured to give philosophical reasons for what was taking place, but they failed in their attempt, and were reduced to silence. many were seized with remorse, struck their breasts, and cried out, 'may his blood fall upon his murderers!' numbers of others, whether near the cross or at a distance, fell on their knees and entreated forgiveness of jesus, who turned his eyes compassionately upon them in the midst of his sufferings. however, the darkness continued to increase, and everyone excepting mary and the most faithful among the friends of jesus left the cross. dismas then raised his head, and in a tone of humility and hope said to jesus, 'lord, remember me when thou shalt come into thy kingdom.' and jesus made answer, 'amen, i say to thee, this day thou shalt be with me in paradise.' magdalen, mary of cleophas, and john stood near the cross of our lord and looked at him, while the blessed virgin, filled with intense feelings of motherly love, entreated her son to permit her to die with him; but he, casting a look of ineffable tenderness upon her, turned to john and said, 'woman, behold thy son;' then he said to john, 'behold thy mother.' john looked at his dying redeemer, and saluted this beloved mother (whom he henceforth considered as his own) in the most respectful manner. the blessed virgin was so overcome by grief at these words of jesus that she almost fainted, and was carried to a short distance from the cross by the holy women. i do not know whether jesus really pronounced these words, but i felt interiorly that he gave mary to john as a mother, and john to mary as a son. in similar visions a person is often conscious of things which are not written, and words can only express a portion of them, although to the individual to whom they are shown they are so clear as not to require explanation. for this reason it did not appear to me in the least surprising that jesus should call the blessed virgin 'woman,' instead of 'mother.' i felt that he intended to demonstrate that she was that woman spoken of in scripture who was to crush the head of the serpent, and that then was the moment in which that promise was accomplished in the death of her son. i knew that jesus, by giving her as a mother to john, gave her also as a mother to all who believe in him, who become children of god, and are not born of flesh and blood, or of the will of man, but of god. neither did it appear to me surprising that the most pure, the most humble, and the most obedient among women, who, when saluted by the angel as 'full of grace,' immediately replied, 'behold the handmaid of the lord, be it done to me according to thy word,' and in whose sacred womb the word was instantly made flesh,--that she, when informed by her dying son that she was to become the spiritual mother of another son, should repeat the same words with humble obedience, and immediately adopt as her children all the children of god, the brothers of jesus christ. these things are much easier to feel by the grace of god than to be expressed in words. i remember my celestial spouse once saying to me, 'everything is imprinted in the hearts of those children of the church who believe, hope, and love.' chapter xliv. the fear felt by the inhabitants of jerusalem. fourth word of jesus on the cross. it was about half-past one o'clock when i was taken into jerusalem to see what was going on there. the inhabitants were perfectly overcome with terror and anxiety; the streets dark and gloomy, and some persons were feeling their way about, while others, seated on the ground with their heads veiled, struck their breasts, or went up to the roofs of their houses, looked at the sky, and burst forth in bitter lamentations. even the animals uttered mournful cries, and hid themselves; the birds flew low, and fell to the ground. i saw pilate conferring with herod on the alarming state of things: they were both extremely agitated, and contemplated the appearance of the sky from that terrace upon which herod was standing when he delivered up jesus to be insulted by the infuriated rabble. 'these events are not in the common course of nature,' they both exclaimed: 'they must be caused by the anger of the gods, who are displeased at the cruelty which has been exercised towards jesus of nazareth.' pilate and herod, surrounded by guards, then directed their hasty trembling steps through the forum to herod's palace. pilate turned away his head when he passed gabbatha, from whence he had condemned jesus to be crucified. the square was almost empty; a few persons might be seen re-entering their houses as quickly as possible, and a few others running about and weeping, while two or three small groups might be distinguished in the distance. pilate sent for some of the ancients and asked them what they thought the astounding darkness could possible portend, and said that he himself considered it a terrific proof of the anger of their god at the crucifixion of the galilean, who was most certainly their prophet and their king: he added that he had nothing to reproach himself with on that head, for he had washed his hands of the whole affair, and was, therefore, quite innocent. the ancients were as hardened as ever, and replied, in a sullen tone, that there was nothing unnatural in the course of events, that they might be easily accounted for by philosophers, and that they did not repent of anything they had done. however, many persons were converted, and among others those soldiers who fell to the ground at the words of our lord when they were sent to arrest him in the garden of olives. the rabble assembled before pilate's house, and instead of the cry of 'crucify him, crucify him!' which had resounded in the morning, you might have heard vociferations of 'down with the iniquitous judge!' 'may the blood of the just man fall upon his murderers!' pilate was much alarmed; he sent for additional guards, and endeavoured to cast all the blame upon the jews. he again declared that the crime was not his; that he was no subject of this jesus, whom they had put to death unjustly, and who was their king, their prophet, their holy one; that they alone were guilty, as it must be evident to all that he condemned jesus solely from compulsion. the temple was thronged with jews, who were intent on the immolation of the paschal lamb; but when the darkness increased to such a degree that it was impossible to distinguish the countenance of one from that of the other, they were seized with fear, horror, and dread, which they expressed by mournful cries and lamentations. the high priests endeavoured to maintain order and quiet. all the lamps were lighted; but the confusion became greater every moment, and annas appeared perfectly paralysed with terror. i saw him endeavouring to hide first in one place, and then in another. when i left the temple, and walked through the streets, i remarked that, although not a breath of wind was stirring, yet both the doors and windows of the houses were shaking as if in a storm, and the darkness was becoming every moment more dense. the consternation produced by the sudden darkness at mount calvary was indescribable. when it first commenced, the confusion of the noise of the hammers, the vociferations of the rabble, the cries of the two thieves on being fastened to their crosses, the insulting speeches of the pharisees, the evolutions of the soldiers, and the drunken shouts of the executioners, had so completely engrossed the attention of everyone, that the change which was gradually coming over the face of nature was not remarked; but as the darkness increased, every sound ceased, each voice was hushed, and remorse and terror took possession of every heart, while the bystanders retired one by one to a distance from the cross. then it was that jesus gave his mother to st. john, and that she, overcome by grief, was carried away to a short distance. as the darkness continued to grow more and more dense, the silence became perfectly astounding; everyone appeared terror struck; some looked at the sky, while others, filled with remorse, turned towards the cross, smote their breasts, and were converted. although the pharisees were in reality quite as much alarmed as other persons, yet they endeavoured at first to put a bold face on the matter, and declared that they could see nothing unaccountable in these events; but at last even they lost assurance, and were reduced to silence. the disc of the sun was of a dark-yellow tint, rather resembling a mountain when viewed by moonlight, and it was surrounded by a bright fiery ring; the stars appeared, but the light they cast was red and lurid; the birds were so terrified as to drop to the ground; the beasts trembled and moaned; the horses and the asses of the pharisees crept as close as possible to one another, and put their heads between their legs. the thick fog penetrated everything. stillness reigned around the cross. jesus hung upon it alone; forsaken by all,--disciples, followers, friends, his mother even was removed from his side; not one person of the thousands upon whom he had lavished benefits was near to offer him the slightest alleviation in his bitter agony,--his soul was overspread with an indescribable feeling of bitterness and grief,--all within him was dark, gloomy, and wretched. the darkness which reigned around was but symbolical of that which overspread his interior; he turned, nevertheless, to his heavenly father, he prayed for his enemies, he offered the chalice of his sufferings for their redemption, he continued to pray as he had done during the whole of his passion, and repeated portions of those psalms the prophecies of which were then receiving their accomplishment in him. i saw angels standing around. again i looked at jesus--my beloved spouse--on his cross, agonising and dying, yet still in dreary solitude. he at that moment endured anguish which no mortal pen can describe,--he felt that suffering which would overwhelm a poor weak mortal if deprived at once of all consolation, both divine and human, and then compelled, without refreshment, assistance, or light, to traverse the stormy desert of tribulation upheld by faith, hope, and charity alone. his sufferings were inexpressible; but it was by them that he merited for us the grace necessary to resist those temptations to despair which will assail us at the hour of death,--that tremendous hour when we shall feel that we are about to leave all that is dear to us here below. when our minds, weakened by disease, have lost the power of reasoning, and even our hopes of mercy and forgiveness are become, as it were, enveloped in mist and uncertainty,--then it is that we must fly to jesus, unite our feelings of desolation with that indescribable dereliction which he endured upon the cross, and be certain of obtaining a glorious victory over our infernal enemies. jesus then offered to his eternal father his poverty, his dereliction, his labours, and, above all, the bitter sufferings which our ingratitude had caused him to endure in expiation for our sins and weakness; no one, therefore, who is united to jesus in the bosom of his church must despair at the awful moment preceding his exit from this life, even if he be deprived of all sensible light and comfort; for he must then remember that the christian is no longer obliged to enter this dark desert alone and unprotected, as jesus has cast his own interior and exterior dereliction on the cross into this gulf of desolation, consequently he will not be left to cope alone with death, or be suffered to leave this world in desolation of spirit, deprived of heavenly consolation. all fear of loneliness and despair in death must therefore be cast away; for jesus, who is our true light, the way, the truth, and the life, has preceded us on that dreary road, has overspread it with blessings, and raised his cross upon it, one glance at which will calm our every fear. jesus then (if we may so express ourselves) made his last testament in the presence of his father, and bequeathed the merits of his death and passion to the church and to sinners. not one erring soul was forgotten; he thought of each and everyone; praying, likewise, even for those heretics who have endeavoured to prove that, being god, he did not suffer as a man would have suffered in his place. the cry which he allowed to pass his lips in the height of his agony was intended not only to show the excess of the sufferings he was then enduring, but likewise to encourage all afflicted souls who acknowledge god as their father to lay their sorrows with filial confidence at his feet. it was towards three o'clock when he cried out in a loud voice, 'eloi, eloi, lamma sabacthani?' 'my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?' these words of our lord interrupted the dead silence which had continued so long; the pharisees turned towards him, and one of them said, 'behold, he calleth elias;' and another, 'let us see whether elias will come to deliver him.' when mary heard the voice of her divine son, she was unable to restrain herself any longer, but rushed forwards, and returned to the foot of the cross, followed by john, mary the daughter of cleophas, mary magdalen, and salome. a troop of about thirty horsemen from judea and the environs of joppa, who were on their way to jerusalem for the festival, passed by just at the time when all was silent round the cross, both assistants and spectators being transfixed with terror and apprehensions. when they beheld jesus hanging on the cross, saw the cruelty with which he had been treated, and remarked the extraordinary signs of god's wrath which overspread the face of nature, they were filled with horror, and exclaimed, 'if the temple of god were not in jerusalem, the city should be burned to the ground for having taken upon itself so fearful a crime.' these words from the lips of strangers--strangers too who bore the appearance of persons of rank--made a great impression on the bystanders, and loud murmurs and exclamations of grief were heard on all sides; some individuals gathered together in groups, more freely to indulge their sorrow, although a certain portion of the crowd continued to blaspheme and revile all around them. the pharisees were compelled to assume a more humble tone, for they feared great existing excitement among the inhabitants of jerusalem. they therefore held a consultation with abenadar, the centurion, and agreed with him that the gate of the city, which was in the vicinity, should be closed, in order to prevent farther communication, and that they should send to pilate and herod for men to guard against the chance of an insurrection, the centurion, in the mean time, doing all in his power to maintain order, and preventing the pharisees from insulting jesus, lest it should exasperate the people still more. shortly after three o'clock the light reappeared in a degree, the moon began to pass away from the disc of the sun, while the sun again shone forth, although its appearance was dim, being surrounded by a species of red mist; by degrees it became more bright, and the stars vanished, but the sky was still gloomy. the enemies of jesus soon recovered their arrogant spirit when they saw the light returning; and it was then that they exclaimed, 'behold, he calleth elias.' chapter xlv. fifth, sixth, and seventh words of jesus on the cross. his death. the light continued to return by degrees, and the livid exhausted countenance of our lord again became visible. his body was become much more white from the quantity of blood he had lost; and i heard him exclaim, 'i am pressed as the grape, which is trodden in the winepress. my blood shall be poured out until water cometh, but wine shall here be made no more.' i cannot be sure whether he really pronounced these words, so as to be heard by others, or whether they were only an answer given to my interior prayer. i afterwards had a vision relating to these words, and in it i saw japhet making wine in this place. jesus was almost fainting; his tongue was parched, and he said: 'i thirst.' the disciples who were standing round the cross looked at him with the deepest expression of sorrow, and he added, 'could you not have given me a little water?' by these words he gave them to understand that no one would have prevented them from doing so during the darkness. john was filled with remorse, and replied: 'we did not think of doing so, o lord.' jesus pronounced a few more words, the import of which was: 'my friends and my neighbours were also to forget me, and not give me to drink, that so what was written concerning me might be fulfilled.' this omission had afflicted him very much. the disciples then offered money to the soldiers to obtain permission to give him a little water: they refused to give it, but dipped a sponge in vinegar and gall, and were about to offer it to jesus, when the centurion abenadar, whose heart was touched with compassion, took it from them, squeezed out the gal, poured some fresh vinegar upon it, and fastening it to a reed, put the reed at the end of a lance, and presented it for jesus to drink. i heard our lord say several other things, but i only remember these words: 'when my voice shall be silent, the mouths of the dead shall be opened.' some of the bystanders cried out: 'he blasphemeth again.' but abenadar compelled them to be silent. the hour of our lord was at last come; his death-struggle had commenced; a cold sweat overspread every limb. john stood at the foot of the cross, and wiped the feet of jesus with his scapular. magdalen was crouched to the ground in a perfect frenzy of grief behind the cross. the blessed virgin stood between jesus and the good thief, supported by salome and mary of cleophas, with her eyes rivetted on the countenance of her dying son. jesus then said: 'it is consummated;' and, raising his head, cried out in a loud voice, 'father, into thy hands i commend my spirit.' these words, which he uttered in a clear and thrilling tone, resounded through heaven and earth; and a moment after, he bowed down his head and gave up the ghost. i saw his soul, under the appearance of a bright meteor, penetrate the earth at the foot of the cross. john and the holy women fell prostrate on the ground. the centurion abenadar had kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on the disfigured countenance of our lord, and was perfectly overwhelmed by all that had taken place. when our lord pronounced his last words, before expiring, in a loud tone, the earth trembled, and the rock of calvary burst asunder, forming a deep chasm between the cross of our lord and that of gesmas. the voice of god--that solemn and terrible voice--had re-echoed through the whole universe; it had broken the solemn silence which then pervaded all nature. all was accomplished. the soul of our lord had left his body: his last cry had filled every breast with terror. the convulsed earth had paid homage to its creator: the sword of grief had pierced the hearts of those who loved him. this moment was the moment of grace for abenadar: his horse trembled under him; his heart was touched; it was rent like the hard rock; he threw his lance to a distance, struck his breast, and cried out: 'blessed be the most high god, the god of abraham, of isaac, and of jacob; indeed this man was the son of god!' his words convinced many among the soldiers, who followed his example, and were likewise converted. abenadar became from this moment a new man; he adored the true god, and would no longer serve his enemies. he gave both his horse and his lance to a subaltern of the name of longinus, who, having addressed a few words to the soldiers, mounted his horse, and took the command upon himself. abenadar then left calvary, and went through the valley of gihon to the caves in the valley of hinnom, where the disciples were hidden, announced the death of our lord to them, and then went to the town, in order to see pilate. no sooner had abenadar rendered public testimony of his belief in the divinity of jesus, than a large number of soldiers followed his example, as did also some of the bystanders, and even a few pharisees. many struck their breasts, wept, and returned home, while others rent their garments, and cast dust on their heads, and all were filled with horror and fear. john arose; and some of the holy women who were at a short distance came up to the blessed virgin, and led her away from the foot of the cross. when jesus, the lord of life and death, gave up his soul into the hands of his father, and allowed death to take possession of his body, this sacred body trembled and turned lividly white; the countless wounds which were covered with congealed blood appeared like dark marks; his cheeks became more sunken, his nose more pointed, and his eyes, which were obscured with blood, remained but half open. he raised his weary head, which was still crowned with thorns, for a moment, and then dropped it again in agony of pain; while his parched and torn lips, only partially closed, showed his bloody and swollen tongue. at the moment of death his hands, which were at one time contracted round the nails, opened and returned to their natural size, as did also his arms; his body became stiff, and the whole weight was thrown upon the feet, his knees bent, and his feet twisted a little on one side. what words can, alas, express the deep grief of the blessed virgin? her eyes closed, a death-like tint overspread her countenance; unable to stand, she fell to the ground, but was soon lifted up, and supported by john, magdalen, and the others. she looked once more upon her beloved son--that son whom she had conceived by the holy ghost, the flesh of her flesh, the bone of her bone, the heart of her heart--hanging on a cross between two thieves; crucified, dishonoured, contemned by those whom he came on earth to save; and well might she at this moment be termed 'the queen of martyrs.' the sun still looked dim and suffused with mist; and during the time of the earthquake the air was close and oppressive, but by degrees it became more clear and fresh. it was about three o'clock when jesus expired. the pharisees were at first much alarmed at the earthquake; but when the first shock was over they recovered themselves, began to throw stones into the chasm, and tried to measure its depth with ropes. finding, however, that they could not fathom its bottom, they became thoughtful, listened anxiously to the groans of the penitents, who were lamenting and striking their breasts, and then left calvary. many among the spectators were really converted, and the greatest part returned to jerusalem perfectly overcome with fear. roman soldiers were placed at the gates, and in other principal parts of the city, to prevent the possibility of an insurrection. cassius remained on calvary with about fifty soldiers. the friends of jesus stood round the cross, contemplated our lord, and wept; many among the holy women had returned to their homes, and all were silent and overcome with grief. chapter xlvi. the earthquake. apparitions of the dead in jerusalem. i saw the soul of jesus, at the moment he expired, appear under the form of a bright orb, and accompanied by angels, among whom i distinguished the angel gabriel penetrate the earth at the foot of the cross. i likewise saw these angels cast a number of evil spirits into the great abyss, and i heard jesus order several of the souls in limbo to re-enter the bodies in which they once dwelt, in order that the sight might fill sinners with a salutary terror, and that these souls might render a solemn testimony to his divinity. the earthquake which produced the deep chasm at calvary did much damage in different parts of palestine, but ifs effects were even more fatal in jerusalem. its inhabitants were just beginning to be a little reassured by the return of light, when their terror was reawakened with double force by the shocks of the earthquake, and the terrible noise and confusion caused by the downfall of houses and walls on all sides, which panic was still farther increased by the sudden appearance of dead persons, confronting the trembling miscreants who were flying to hide themselves, and addressing them in the most severe and reproachful language. the high priests had recommenced the sacrifice of the paschal lamb (which had been stopped by the unexpected darkness), and they were triumphing at the return of light, when suddenly the ground beneath them trembled, the neighbouring buildings fell down, and the veil of the temple was rent in two from the top to the bottom. excess of terror at first rendered those on the outside speechless, but after a time they burst forth into cries and lamentations. the confusion in the interior of the temple was not, however, as great as would naturally have been expected, because the strictest order and decorum were always enforced there, particularly with regard to the regulation to be followed by those who entered to make their sacrifice, and those who left after having offered it. the crowd was great, but the ceremonies were so solemnly carried out by the priests, that they totally engrossed the minds of the assistants. first came the immolation of the lamb, then the sprinkling of its blood, accompanied by the chanting of canticles and the sounding of trumpets. the priests were endeavouring to continue the sacrifices, when suddenly an unexpected and most appalling pause ensued; terror and astonishment were depicted on each countenance; all was thrown into confusion; not a sound was heard; the sacrifices ceased; there was a general rush to the gates of the temple; everyone endeavoured to fly as quickly as possible. and well might they fly, well might they fear and tremble; for in the midst of the multitude there suddenly appeared persons who had been dead and buried for many years! these persons looked at them sternly, and reproved them most severely for the crime they had committed that day, in bringing about the death of 'the just man,' and calling down his blood upon their heads. even in the midst of this confusion, some attempts were, however, made by the priests to preserve order; they prevented those who were in the inner part of the temple from rushing forward, pushing their way through the crowds who were in advance of them, and descending the steps which led out of the temple: they even continued the sacrifices in some parts, and endeavoured to calm the fears of the people. the appearance of the temple at this moment can only be described by comparing it to an ant-hill on which persons have thrown stones, or which has been disturbed by a sick being driven into its centre. the ants in those parts on which the stones have fallen, or which the stick had disturbed, are filled with confusion and terror; they run to and fro and do nothing; while the ants in those parts which have not been disturbed continue to labour quietly, and even begin to repair the damaged parts. the high priest caiphas and his retinue did not lose their presence of mind, and by the outward tranquillity which their diabolical hardness of heart enabled them to preserve, they calmed the confusion in a great degree, and then did their utmost to prevent the people from looking upon these stupendous events as testimonies of the innocence of jesus. the roman garrison belonging to the fortress of antonia likewise made great efforts to maintain order; consequently, the disturbance of the festival was not followed by an insurrection, although every heart was fixed with fear and anxiety, which anxiety the pharisees endeavoured (and in some instances with success) to calm. i remember a few other striking incidents: in the first place, the two columns which were placed at the entrance of their holy of holies, and to which a magnificent curtain was appended, were shaken to the very foundations; the column on the left side fell down in a southerly, and that on the right side in a northerly direction, thus rending the veil in two from the top to the bottom with a fearful sound, and exposing the holy of holies uncovered to the public gaze. a large stone was loosened and fell from the wall at the entrance of the sanctuary, near where the aged simeon used to kneel, and the arch was broken. the ground was heaved up, and many other columns were thrown down in other parts of the temple. an apparition of the high priest zacharias, who was slain between the porch and the altar, was seen in the sanctuary. he uttered fearful menaces, spoke of the death of the second zacharias, and of that of st. john baptist, as also of the violent deaths of the other prophets. the two sons of the high priest simon, surnamed the just (ancestors of the aged simeon who prophesied when jesus was presented in the temple), made their appearance in the part usually occupied by the doctors of the law; they also spoke in terrific terms of the deaths of the prophets, of the sacrifice of the old law which was now about to cease, and they exhorted all present to be converted, and to embrace the doctrines which had been preached by him whom they had crucified. the prophet jeremiah likewise appeared; he stood near the altar, and proclaimed, in a menacing tone, that the ancient sacrifice was at an end, and that a new one had commenced. as these apparitions took place in parts where none but priests were allowed to enter, caiphas and a few others were alone cognisant of them, and they endeavoured, as far as possible, either to deny their reality, or to conceal them. these prodigies were followed by others still more extraordinary. the doors of the sanctuary flew open of themselves, and a voice was heard to utter these words: 'let us leave this place;' and i saw all the angels of the lord instantly leave the temple. the thirty-two pharisees who went to calvary a short time before our lord expired were almost all converted at the foot of the cross. they returned to the temple in the midst of the confusion, and were perfectly thunderstruck at all which had taken place there. they spoke most sternly, both to annas and to caiphas, and left the temple. annas had always been the most bitter of the enemies of jesus, and had headed every proceeding against him; but the supernatural events which had taken place had completely unnerved him that he knew not where to hide himself. caiphas was, in realty excessively alarmed, and filled with anxiety, but his pride was so great that he concealed his feelings as far as possible, and endeavoured to reassure annas. he succeeded for a time; but the sudden appearance of a person who had been dead many years marred the effect of his words, and annas became again a prey to the most fearful terror and remorse. whilst these things were going on in the temple, the confusion and panic were not less in jerusalem. dead persons were walking about, and many walls and buildings had been shaken by the earthquake, and parts of them fallen down. the superstition of pilate rendered him even more accessible to fear; he was perfectly paralysed and speechless with terror; his palace was shaken to the very foundation, and the earth quaked beneath his feet. he ran wildly from room to room, and the dead constantly stood before him, reproaching him with the unjust sentence he had passed upon jesus. he thought that they were the gods of the galilean, and took refuge in an inner room, where he offered incense, and made vows to his idols to invoke their assistance in his distress. herod was usually alarmed; but he shut himself up in his palace, out of the sight of everyone. more than a hundred persons who had died at different epochs re-entered the bodies they had occupied when on earth, made their appearance in different parts of jerusalem, and filled the inhabitants with inexpressible consternation. those souls which had been released by jesus from limbo uncovered their faces and wandered to and fro in the streets, and although their bodies were the same as those which they had animated when on earth, yet these bodies did not appear to touch the ground as they walked. they entered the houses of their descendants, proclaimed the innocence of jesus, and reproved those who had taken part in his death most severely. i saw them passing through the principal streets; they were generally in couples, and appeared to me to glide through the airs without moving their feet. the countenances of some were pale; others of a yellow tint; their beards were long, and their voices sounded strange and sepulchral. their grave-clothes were such as it was customary to use at the period of their decease. when they reached the place where sentence of death was proclaimed on jesus before the procession started for calvary, they paused for a moment, and exclaimed in a loud voice: 'glory be to jesus for ever and ever, and destruction to his enemies!' towards four o'clock all the dead returned to their graves. the sacrifices in the temple had been so interrupted, and the confusion caused by the different prodigies was so great, that very few persons ate the paschal lamb on that evening. chapter xlvii. the request of joseph of arimathea to be allowed to have the body of jesus. scarcely had the commotion which the town had been thrown into begun to subside in a degree, when the jews belonging to the council sent to pilate to request that the legs of the criminals might be broken, in order to put an end to their lives before the sabbath-day dawned. pilate immediately dispatched executioners to calvary to carry out their wishes. joseph of arimathea then demanded an audience; he had heard of the death of jesus, and he and nicodemus had determined to bury him in a new sepulchre which he had made at the end of his garden, not far from calvary. pilate was still filled with anxiety and solicitude, and was much astonished at seeing a person holding a high position like joseph so anxious for leave to give honourable burial to a criminal whom he had sentenced to be ignominiously crucified. he sent for the centurion abenadar, who returned to jerusalem after he had conferred with the disciples who were hidden in the caverns, and asked him whether the king of the jews was really dead. abenadar gave pilate a full account of the death of our lord, of his last words, and of the loud cry he uttered immediately before death, and of the earthquake which had rent the great chasm in the rock. the only thing at which pilate expressed surprise was that the death of jesus should have taken place so quickly, as those who were crucified usually lived much longer; but although he said so little, every word uttered by joseph increased his dismay and remorse. he instantly gave joseph an order, by which he was authorised to take down the body of the king of the jews from the cross, and to perform the rites of sepulture at once. pilate appeared to endeavour, by his readiness in granting this request, to wish to make up, in a degree, for his previous cruel and unjust conduct, and he was likewise very glad to do what he was certain would annoy the priests extremely, as he knew their wish was to have jesus buried ignominiously between the two thieves. he dispatched a messenger to calvary to see his orders executed. i believe the messenger was abenadar, for i saw him assisting in taking jesus down from the cross. when joseph of arimathea left pilate's palace, he instantly rejoined nicodemus, who was waiting for him at the house of a pious woman, which stood opposite to a large street, and was not far from that alley where jesus was so shamefully ill-treated when he first commenced carrying his cross. the woman was a vendor of aromatic herbs, and nicodemus had purchased many perfumes which were necessary for embalming the body of jesus from her. she procured the more precious kinds from other places, and joseph went away to procure a fine winding-sheet. his servants then fetched ladders, hammers, pegs, jars of water, and sponges, from a neighbouring shed, and placed them in a hand-barrow similar to that on which the disciples of john the baptist put his body when they carried it off from the castle of macherus. chapter xlviii. the opening of the side of jesus. death of the two thieves. whilst these events were taking place in jerusalem, silence reigned around calvary. the crowd which had been for a time so noisy and tumultuous, was dispersed; all were panicstricken; in some that panic had produced sincere repentance, but on others it had had no beneficial effects. mary, john, magdalen, mary of cleophas, and salome had remained, either standing or sitting before the cross, closely veiled and weeping silently. a few soldiers were leaning over the terrace which enclosed the platform; cassius rode up and down; the sky was lowering, and all nature wore a garb of mourning. six archers soon after made their appearance, bringing with them ladders, spades, ropes, and large iron staves for the purpose of breaking the legs of the criminals, in order to hasten their deaths. when they approached our lord's cross, his friends retired a few paces back, and the blessed virgin was seized with fear lest they should indulge their hatred of jesus by insulting even his dead body. her fears were not quite unfounded, for when they first placed their ladders against the cross they declared that he was only pretending to be dead; in a few moments, however, seeing that he was cold and stiff, they left him, and removed their ladders to the crosses on which the two thieves were still hanging alive. they took up their iron staves and broke the arms of the thieves above and below the elbow; while another archer at the same moment broke their legs, both above and below the knee. gesmas uttered frightful cries, therefore the executioner finished him off by three heavy blows of a cudgel on his chest. dismas gave a deep groan, and expired: he was the first among mortals who had the happiness of rejoining his redeemer. the cords were then loosened, the two bodies fell to the ground, and the executioners dragged them to a deep morass, which was between calvary and the walls of the town, and buried them there. the archers still appeared doubtful whether jesus was really dead, and the brutality they had shown in breaking the legs of the thieves made the holy women tremble as to what outrage they might next perpetrate on the body of our lord. but cassius, the subaltern officer, a young man of about five-and-twenty, whose weak squinting eyes and nervous manner had often excited the derision of his companions, was suddenly illuminated by grace, and being quite overcome at the sight of the cruel conduct of the soldiers, and the deep sorrow of the holy women, determined to relieve their anxiety by proving beyond dispute that jesus was really dead. the kindness of his heart prompted him, but unconsciously to himself he fulfilled a prophecy. he seized his lance and rode quickly up to the mound on which the cross was planted, stopped just between the cross of the good thief and that of our lord, and taking his lance in both hands, thrust it so completely into the right side of jesus that the point went through the heart, and appeared on the left side. when cassius drew his lance out of the wound a quantity of blood and water rushed from it, and flowed over his face and body. this species of washing produced effects somewhat similar to the vivifying waters of baptism: grace and salvation at once entered his soul. he leaped from his horse, threw himself upon his knees, struck his breast, and confessed loudly before all his firm belief in the divinity of jesus. the blessed virgin and her companions were still standing near, with their eyes fixed upon the cross, but when cassius thrust his lance into the side of jesus they were much startled, and rushed with one accord up to it. mary looked as if the lance had transfixed her heart instead of that of her divine son, and could scarcely support herself. cassius meantime remained kneeling and thanking god, not only for the grace he had received but likewise for the cure of the complaint in his eyes, which had caused the weakness and the squint. this cure had been effected at the same moment that the darkness with which his soul was previously filled was removed. every heart was overcome at the sight of the blood of our lord, which ran into a hollow in the rock at the foot of the cross. mary, john, the holy women, and cassius, gathered up the blood and water in flasks, and wiped up the remainder with pieces of linen. cassius, whose sight was perfectly restored at the same moment that the eyes of his soul were opened, was deeply moved, and continued his humble prayer of thanksgiving. the soldiers were truck with astonishment at the miracle which had taken place, and cast themselves on their knees by his side, at the same time striking their breasts and confessing jesus. the water and blood continued to flow from the large wound in the side of our lord; it ran into the hollow in the rock, and the holy women put it in vases, while mary and magdalen mingled their tears. the archers, who had received a message from pilate, ordering them not to touch the body of jesus, did not return at all. all these events took place near the cross, at a little before four o'clock, during the time that joseph of arimathea and nicodemus were gathering together the articles necessary for the burial of jesus. but the servants of joseph having been sent to clean out the tomb, informed the friends of our lord that their master intended to take the body of jesus and place it in his new sepulchre. john immediately returned to the town with the holy women; in the first place, that mary might recruit her strength a little, and in the second, to purchase a few things which would be required for the burial. the blessed virgin had a small lodging among the buildings near the cenaculum. they did not re-enter the town through the gate which was the nearest to calvary, because it was closed, and guarded by soldiers placed there by the pharisees; but they went through that gate which leads to bethlehem. chapter xlix. a description of some parts of ancient jerusalem. this chapter will contain some descriptions of places given by sister emmerich on various occasions. they will be followed by a description of the tomb and garden of joseph of arimathea, that so we may have no need to interrupt the account of the burial of our lord. the first gate which stood on the eastern side of jerusalem, to the south of the south-east angle of the temple, was the one leading to the suburb of ophel. the gate of the sheep was to the north of the north-east angle of the temple. between these two gates there was a third, leading to some streets situated to the east of the temple, and inhabited for the most part by stonemasons and other workmen. the houses in these streets were supported by the foundations of the temple; and almost all belonged to nicodemus, who had caused them to be built, and who employed nearly all the workmen living there. nicodemus had not long before built a beautiful gate as an entrance to these streets, called the gate of moriah. it was but just finished, and through it jesus had entered the town on palm sunday. thus he entered by the new gate of nicodemus, through which no one had yet passed, and was buried in the new monument of joseph of arimathea, in which no one had yet been laid. this gate was afterwards walled up, and there was a tradition that the christians were once again to enter the town through it. even in the present day, a walled-up gate, called by the turks the golden gate, stands on this spot. the road leading to the west from the gate of the sheep passed almost exactly between the north-western side of mount sion and calvary. from this gate to golgotha the distance was about two miles and a quarter; and from pilate's palace to golgotha about two miles. the fortress antonia was situated to the north-west of the mountain of the temple, on a detached rock. a person going towards the west, on leaving pilate's palace, would have had this fortress to his left. on one of its walls there was a platform commanding the forum, and from which pilate was accustomed to make proclamations to the people: he did this, for instance, when he promulgated new laws. when our divine lord was carrying his cross, in the interior of the town, mount calvary was frequently on his right hand. this road, which partly ran in a south-westerly direction, led to a gate made in an inner wall of the town, towards sion. beyond this wall, to the left, there was a sort of suburb, containing more gardens than houses; and towards the outer wall of the city stood some magnificent sepulchres with stone entrances. on this side was a house belonging to lazarus, with beautiful gardens, extending towards that part where the outer western wall of jerusalem turned to the south. i believe that a little private door, made in the city wall, and through which jesus and his disciples often passed by permission of lazarus, led to these gardens. the gate standing at the north-western angle of the town led to bethsur, which was situated more towards the north than emmaus and joppa. the western part of jerusalem was lower than any other: the land on which it was built first sloped in the direction of the surrounding wall, and then rose again when close to it; and on this declivity there stood gardens and vineyards, behind which wound a wide road, with paths leading to the walls and towers. on the other side, without the wall, the land descended towards the valley, so that the walls surrounding the lower part of the town looked as if built on a raised terrace. there are gardens and vineyards even in the present day on the outer hill. when jesus arrived at the end of the way of the cross, he had on his left hand that part of the town where there were so many gardens; and it was from thence that simon of cyrene was coming when he met the procession. the gate by which jesus left the town was not entirely facing the west, but rather the south-west. the city wall on the left-hand side, after passing through the gate, ran somewhat in a southerly direction, then turned towards the west, and then again to the south, round mount sion. on this side there stood a large tower, like a fortress. the gate by which jesus left the town was at no great distance from another gate more towards the south, leading down to the valley, and where a road, turning to the left in the direction of bethlehem, commenced. the road turned to the north towards mount calvary shortly after that gate by which jesus left jerusalem when bearing his cross. mount calvary was very steep on its eastern side, facing the town, and a gradual descent on the western; and on this side, from which the road to emmaus was to be seen, there was a field, in which i saw luke gather several plants when he and cleophas were going to emmaus, and met jesus on the way. near the walls, to the east and south of calvary, there were also gardens, sepulchres, and vineyards. the cross was buried on the north-east side, at the foot of mount calvary. the garden of joseph of arimathea was situated near the gate of bethlehem, at about a seven minutes' walk from calvary: it was a very fine garden, with tall trees, banks, and thickets in it, which gave much shade, and was situated on a rising ground extending to the walls of the city. a person coming from the northern side of the valley, and entering the garden, had on his left hand a slight ascent extending as far as the city wall; and on his right, at the end of the garden, a detached rock, where the cave of the sepulchre was situated. the grotto in which it was made looked to the east; and on the south-western and north-western sides of the same rock were two other smaller sepulchres, which were also new, and with depressed fronts. a pathway, beginning on the western side of this rock, ran all round it. the ground in front of the sepulchre was higher than that of the entrance, and a person wishing to enter the cavern had to descend several steps. the cave was sufficiently large for four men to be able to stand close up to the wall on either side without impeding the movements of the bearers of the body. opposite the door was a cavity in the rock, in which the tomb was made; it was about two feet above the level of the ground, and fastened to the rock by one side only, like an altar: two persons could stand, one at the head and one at the foot; and there was a place also for a third in front, even if the door of the cavity was closed. this door was made of some metal, perhaps of brass, and had two folding doors. these doors could be closed by a stone being rolled against them; and the stone used for this purpose was kept outside the cavern. immediately after our lord was placed in the sepulchre it was rolled in front of the door. it was very large, and could not be removed without the united effort of several men. opposite the entrance of the cavern there stood a stone bench, and by mounting on this a person could climb on to the rock, which was covered with grass, and from whence the city walls, the highest parts of mount sion, and some towers could be seen, as well as the gate of bethlehem and the fountain of gihon. the rock inside was of a white colour, intersected with red and blue veins. chapter l. the descent from the cross. at the time when everyone had left the neighbourhood of the cross, and a few guards alone stood around it, i saw five persons, who i think were disciples, and who had come by the valley from bethania, draw nigh to calvary, gaze for a few moments upon the cross, and then steal away. three times i met in the vicinity two men who were making examinations and anxiously consulting together. these men were joseph of arimathea and nicodemus. the first time was during the crucifixion (perhaps when they caused the clothes of jesus to be brought back from the soldiers), and they were then at no great distance from calvary. the second was when, after standing to look whether the crowd was dispersing, they went to the town to make some preparations. the third was on their return from the tomb to the cross, when they were looking around in every direction, as if waiting for a favourable moment, and then concerted together as to the manner in which they should take the body of our lord down from the cross, after which they returned to the town. their next care was to make arrangements for carrying with them the necessary articles for embalming the body, and their servants took some tools with which to detach it from the cross, as well as two ladders which they found in a barn close to nicodemus's house. each of these ladders consisted of a single pole, crossed at regular intervals by pieces of wood, which formed the steps. there were hooks which could be fastened on any part of the pole, and by means of which the ladder could be steadied, or on which, perhaps, anything required for the work could also be hung. the woman from whom they had bought their spices had packed the whole neatly together. nicodemus had bought a hundred pounds' weight of roots, which quantity is equal to about thirty-seven pounds of our measure, as has been explained to me. they carried these spices in little barrels make of bark, which were hung round their necks, and rested on their breasts. one of these barrels contained some sort of powder. they had also some bundles of herbs in bags made of parchment or leather, and joseph carried a box of ointment; but i do not know what this box was made of. the servants were to carry vases, leathern bottles, sponges, and tools, on a species of litter, and they likewise took fire with them in a closed lantern. they left the town before their master, and by a different gate (perhaps that of bethania), and then turned their steps towards mount calvary. as they walked through the town they passed by the house where the blessed virgin; st. john, and the holy women had gone to seek different things required for embalming the body of jesus, and john and the holy women followed the servants at a certain distance. the women were about five in number, and some of them carried large bundles of linen under their mantles. it was the custom for women, when they went out in the evening, or if intending to perform some work of piety secretly, to wrap their persons carefully in a long sheet at least a yard wide. they began by one arm, and then wound the linen so closely round their body that they could not walk without difficulty. i have seen them wrapped up in this manner, and the sheet not only extended to both arms, but likewise veiled the head. on the present occasion, the appearance of this dress was most striking in my eyes, for it was a real mourning garment. joseph and nicodemus were also in mourning attire, and wore black sleeves and wide sashes. their cloaks, which they had drawn over their heads, were both wide and long, of a common grey colour, and served to conceal everything that they were carrying. they turned their steps in the direction of the gate leading to mount calvary. the streets were deserted and quiet, for terror kept everyone at home. the greatest number were beginning to repent, and but few were keeping the festival. when joseph and nicodemus reached the gate they found it closed, and the road, streets, and every corner lined with soldiers. these were the soldiers whom the pharisees had asked for at about two o'clock, and whom they had kept under arms and on guard, as they still feared a tumult among the people. joseph showed an order, signed by pilate, to let them pass freely, and the soldiers were most willing that they should do so, but explained to him that they had endeavoured several times to open the gate, without being able to move it; that apparently the gate had received a shock, and been strained in some part; and that on this account the archers sent to break the legs of the thieves had been obliged to return to the city by another gate. but when joseph and nicodemus seized hold of the bolt, the gate opened as if of itself, to the great astonishment of all the bystanders. it was still dark and the sky cloudy when they reached mount calvary, where they found the servants who had been sent on already arrived, and the holy women sitting weeping in front of the cross. cassius and several soldiers who were converted remained at a certain distance, and their demeanour was respectful and reserved. joseph and nicodemus described to the blessed virgin and john all they had done to save jesus from an ignominious death, and learned from them how they had succeeded in preventing the bones of our lord from being broken, and how the prophecy had been fulfilled. they spoke also of the wound which cassius had made with his lance. no sooner was the centurion abenadar arrived than they began, with the deepest recollection of spirit, their mournful and sacred labour of taking down from the cross and embalming the adorable body of our lord. the blessed virgin and magdalen were seated at the foot of the cross; while, on the right-hand side, between the cross of dismas and that of jesus, the other women were engaged in preparing the linen, spices, water, sponges, and vases. cassius also came forward, and related to abenadar the miraculous cure of his eyes. all were deeply affected, and their hearts overflowing with sorrow and love; but, at the same time, they preserved a solemn silence, and their every movement was full of gravity and reverence. nothing broke the stillness save an occasional smothered word of lamentation, or a stifled groan, which escaped from one or other of these holy personages, in spite of their earnest eagerness and deep attention to their pious labour. magdalen gave way unrestrainedly to her sorrow, and neither the presence of so many different persons, nor any other consideration, appeared to distract her from it. nicodemus and joseph placed the ladders behind the cross, and mounted them, holding in their hands a large sheet, to which three long straps were fastened. they tied the body of jesus, below the arms and knees, to the tree of the cross, and secured the arms by pieces of linen placed underneath the hands. then they drew out the nails, by pushing them from behind with strong pins pressed upon the points. the sacred hands of jesus were thus not much shaken, and the nails fell easily out of the wounds; for the latter had been made wider by the weight of the body, which, being now supported by the cloths, no longer hung on the nails. the lower part of the body, which since our lord's death had sunk down on the knees, now rested in a natural position, supported by a sheet fastened above to the arms of the cross. whilst joseph was taking out the nail from the left hand, and then allowing the left arm, supported by its cloth, to fall gently down upon the body, nicodemus was fastening the right arm of jesus to that of the cross, as also the sacred crowned head, which had sunk on the right shoulder. then he took out the right nail, and having surrounded the arm with its supporting sheet, let it fall gently on to the body. at the same time, the centurion abenadar, with great difficulty, drew out the large nail which transfixed the feet. cassius devoutly received the nails, and laid them at the feet of the blessed virgin. then joseph and nicodemus, having placed ladders against the front of the cross, in a very upright position, and close to the body, untied the upper strap, and fastened it to one of the hooks on the ladder; they did the same with the two other straps, and passing them all on from hook to hook, caused the sacred body to descend gently towards the centurion, who having mounted upon a stool received it in his arms, holding it below the knees; while joseph and nicodemus, supporting the upper part of the body, came gently down the ladder, stopping at every step, and taking every imaginable precaution, as would be done by men bearing the body of some beloved friend who had been grievously wounded. thus did the bruised body of our divine saviour reach the ground. it was a most touching sight. they all took the same precautions, the same care, as if they had feared to cause jesus some suffering. they seemed to have concentrated on the sacred body all the love and veneration which they had felt for their saviour during his life. the eyes of each were fixed upon the adorable body, and followed all its movements; and they were continually uplifting their hands towards heaven, shedding tears, and expressing in every possible way the excess of their grief and anguish. yet they all remained perfectly calm, and even those who were so busily occupied about the sacred body broke silence but seldom, and, when obliged to make some necessary remark, did so in a low voice. during the time that the nails were being forcible removed by blows of the hammer, the blessed virgin, magdalen; and all those who had been present at the crucifixion, felt each blow transfix their hearts. the sound recalled to their minds all the sufferings of jesus, and they could not control their trembling fear, lest they should again hear his piercing cry of suffering; although, at the same time they grieved at the silence of his blessed lips, which proved, alas too surely, that he was really dead. when the body was taken down it was wrapped in linen from the knees to the waist, and then placed in the arms of the blessed virgin, who, overwhelmed with sorrow and love, stretched them forth to receive their precious burden. chapter li. the embalming of the body of jesus. the blessed virgin seated herself upon a large cloth spread on the ground, with her right knee, which was slightly raised, and her back resting against some mantles, rolled together so as to from a species of cushion. no precaution had been neglected which could in any way facilitate to her--the mother of sorrows--in her deep affliction of soul, the mournful but most sacred duty which she was about to fulfil in regard to the body of her beloved son. the adorable head of jesus rested upon mary's knee, and his body was stretched upon a sheet. the blessed virgin was overwhelmed with sorrow and love. once more, and for the last time, did she hold in her arms the body of her most beloved son, to whom she had been unable to give any testimony of love during the long hours of his martyrdom. and she gazed upon his wounds and fondly embraced his blood-stained cheeks, while magdalen pressed her face upon his feet. the men withdrew into a little cave, situated on the south-west side of calvary, there to prepare the different things needful for the embalming; but cassius, with a few other soldiers who had been converted, remained at a respectful distance. all ill-disposed persons were gone back to the city, and the soldiers who were present served merely to form a guard to prevent any interruption in the last honours which were being rendered to the body of jesus. some of these soldiers even gave assistance when desired. the holy women held the vases, sponges, linen, unction, and spices, according as required; but when not thus employed, they remained at a respectful distance, attentively gazing upon the blessed virgin as she proceeded in her mournful task. magdalen did not leave the body of jesus; but john gave continual assistance to the blessed virgin, and went to and fro from the men to the women, lending aid to both parties. the women had with them some large leathern bottles and a vase filled with water standing upon a coal fire. they gave the blessed virgin and magdalen, according as they required, vases filled with clear water, and sponges, which they afterwards squeezed in the leathern bottles. the courage and firmness of mary remained unshaken even in the midst of her inexpressible anguish. it was absolutely impossible for her to leave the body of her son in the awful state to which it had been reduced by his sufferings, and therefore she began with indefatigable earnestness to wash and purify it from the traces of the outrages to which it had been exposed. with the utmost care she drew off the crown of thorns, opening it behind, and then cutting off one by one the thorns which had sunk deep into the head of jesus, in order that she might not widen the wounds. the crown was placed by the side of the nails, and then mary drew out the thorns which had remained in the skin with a species of rounded pincers, and sorrowfully showed them to her friends. these thorns were placed with the crown, but still some of them must have been preserved separately. the divine face of our saviour was scarcely recognisable, so disfigured was it by the wounds with which it was covered. the beard and hair were matted together with blood. mary washed the head and face, and passed damp sponges over the hair to remove the congealed blood. as she proceeded in her pious office, the extent of the awful cruelty which had been exercised upon jesus became more and more apparent, and caused in her soul emotions of compassion and tenderness which increased as she passed from one wound to another. she washed the wounds of the head, the eyes filled with blood, the nostrils, and the ears, with a sponge and a small piece of linen spread over the fingers of her right hand; and then she purified, in the same manner, the half-opened mouth, the tongue, the teeth, and the lips. she divided what remained of our lord's hair into three parts, a part falling over each temple, and the third over the back of his head; and when she had disentangled the front hair and smoothed it, she passed it behind his ears. when the head was thoroughly cleansed and purified, the blessed virgin covered it with a veil, after having kissed the sacred cheeks of her dear son. she then turned her attention to the neck, shoulders, chest, back, arms, and pierced hands. all the bones of the breast and the joints were dislocated, and could not be bent. there was a frightful wound on the shoulders which had borne the weight of the cross, and all the upper part of the body was covered with bruises and deeply marked with blows of the scourges. on the left breast there was a small wound where the point of cassius's lance had come out, and on the right side was the large wound made by the same lance, and which had pierced the heart through and through. mary washed all these wounds, and magdalen, on her knees, helped her from time to time; but without leaving the sacred feet of jesus, which she bathed with tears and wiped with her hair. the head, bosom, and feet of our lord were now washed, and the sacred body, which was covered with brown stains and red marks in those places where the skin had been torn off, and of a bluish-white colour, like flesh that has been drained of blood, was resting on the knees of mary, who covered the parts which she had washed with a veil, and then proceeded to embalm all the wounds. the holy women knelt by her side, and in turn presented to her a box, out of which she took some precious ointment, and with it filled and covered the wounds. she also anointed the hair, and then, taking the sacred hands of jesus in her left hand, respectfully kissed them, and filled the large wounds made by the nails with this ointment or sweet spice. she likewise filled the ears, nostrils, and wound in the side with the same precious mixture. meanwhile magdalen wiped and embalmed our lord's feet, and then again washed them with her tears, and often pressed her face upon them. the water which had been used was not thrown away, but poured into the leathern bottles in which the sponges had been squeezed. i saw cassius or some other soldier go several times to fetch fresh water from the fountain of gihon, which was at no great distance off. when the blessed virgin had filled all the wounds with ointment, she wrapped the head up in linen cloths, but she did not as yet cover the face. she closed the half-open eyes of jesus, and kept her hand upon them for some time. she also closed the mouth, and then embraced the sacred body of her beloved son, pressing her face fondly and reverently upon his. joseph and nicodemus had been waiting for some time, when john drew near to the blessed virgin, and besought her to permit the body of her son to be taken from her, that the embalming might be completed, because the sabbath was close at hand. once more did mary embrace the sacred body of jesus, and utter her farewells in the most touching language, and then the men lifted it from her arms on the sheet, and carried it to some distance. the deep sorrow of mary had been for the time assuaged by the feelings of love and reverence with which she had accomplished her sacred task; but now it once more overwhelmed her, and she fell, her head covered with her veil, into the arms of the holy women. magdalen felt almost as though her beloved were being forcibly carried away from her, and hastily ran forward a few steps, with her arms stretched forth; but then, after a moment, returned to the blessed virgin. the sacred body was carried to a spot beneath the level of the top of golgotha, where the smooth surface of a rock afforded a convenient platform on which to embalm the body. i first saw a piece of open-worked linen, looking very much like lace, and which made me think of the large embroidered curtain hung between the choir and nave during lent. it was probably worked in that open stitch for the water to run through. i also saw another large sheet unfolded. the body of our saviour was placed on the open-worked piece of linen, and some of the other men held the other sheet spread above it. nicodemus and joseph then knelt down, and underneath this covering took off the linen which they had fastened round the loins of our saviour, when they took his body down from the cross. they then passed sponges under this sheet, and washed the lower parts of the body; after which they lifted it up by the help of pieces of linen crossed beneath the loins and knees, and washed the back without turning it over. they continued washing until nothing but clear water came from the sponges when pressed. next they poured water of myrrh over the whole body, and then, handling it with respect, stretched it out full length, for it was still in the position in which our divine lord had died--the loins and knees bent. they then placed beneath his hips a sheet which was a yard in width and three in length, laid upon his lap bundles of sweet-scented herbs, and shook over the whole body a powder which nicodemus had brought. next they wrapped up the lower part of the body, and fastened the cloth which they had placed underneath round it strongly. after this they anointed the wounds of the thighs, placed bundles of herbs between the legs, which were stretched out to their full length, and wrapped them up entirely in these sweet spices. then john conducted the blessed virgin and the other holy women once more to the side of the body. mary knelt down by the head of jesus, and placed beneath it a piece of very fine linen which had been given her by pilate's wife, and which she had worn round her neck under her cloak; next, assisted by the holy women, she placed from the shoulders to the cheeks bundles of herbs, spices, and sweet-scented powder, and then strongly bound this piece of linen round the head and shoulders. magdalen poured besides a small bottle of balm into the wound of the side, and the holy women placed some more herbs into those of the hands and feet. then the men put sweet spices around all the remainder of the body, crossed the sacred stiffened arms on the chest, and bound the large white sheet round the body as high as the chest, in the same manner as if they had been swaddling a child. then, having fastened the end of a large band beneath the armpits, they rolled it round the head and the whole body. finally, they placed our divine lord on the large sheet, six yards in length, which joseph of arimathea had bought, and wrapped him in it. he was lying diagonally upon it, and one corner of the sheet was raised from the feet to the chest, the other drawn over the head and shoulders, while the remaining two ends were doubled round the body. the blessed virgin, the holy women, the men--all were kneeling round the body of jesus to take their farewell of it, when a most touching miracle took place before them. the sacred body of jesus, with all its wounds, appeared imprinted upon the cloth which covered it, as though he had been pleased to reward their care and their love, and leave them a portrait of himself through all the veils with which he was enwrapped. with tears they embraced the adorable body, and then reverently kissed the wonderful impression which it had left. their astonishment increased when, on lifting up the sheet, they saw that all the bands which surrounded the body had remained white as before, and that the upper cloth alone had been marked in this wonderful manner. it was not a mark made by the bleeding wounds, since the whole body was wrapped up and covered with sweet spices, but it was a supernatural portrait, bearing testimony to the divine creative power ever abiding in the body of jesus. i have seen many things relative to the subsequent history of this piece of linen, but i could not describe them coherently. after the resurrection it remained in the possession of the friends of jesus, but fell twice into the hands of the jews, and later was honoured in several different places. i have seen it in a city of asia, in the possession of some christians, who were not catholics. i have forgotten the name of the town, which is situated in a province near the country of the three kings. chapter lii. the body of our lord placed in the sepulchre. the men placed the sacred body on a species of leathern hand-barrow, which they covered wit a brown-coloured cloth, and to which they fastened two long stakes. this forcibly reminded me of the ark of the covenant. nicodemus and joseph bore on their shoulders the front shafts, while abenadar and john supported those behind. after them came the blessed virgin, mary of heli, her eldest sister, magdalen and mary of cleophas, and then the group of women who had been sitting at some distance--veronica, johanna chusa, mary salome, salome of jerusalem, susanna, and anne the niece of st. joseph. cassius and the soldiers closed the procession. the other women, such as marone of naim, dina the samaritaness, and mara the suphanitess, were at bethania, with martha and lazarus. two soldiers, bearing torches in their hands, walked on first, that there might be some light in the grotto of the sepulchre; and the procession continued to advance in this order for about seven minutes, the holy men and women singing psalms in sweet but melancholy tones. i saw james the greater, the brother of john, standing upon a hill the other side of the valley, to look at them as they passed, and he returned immediately afterwards, to tell the other disciples what he had seen. the procession stopped at the entrance of joseph's garden, which was opened by the removal of some stakes, afterwards used as levers to roll the stone to the door of the sepulchre. when opposite the rock, they placed the sacred body on a long board covered with a sheet. the grotto, which had been newly excavated, had been latterly cleaned by the servants of nicodemus, so that the interior was neat and pleasing to the eye. the holy women sat down in front of the grotto, while the four men carried in the body of our lord, partially filled the hollow couch destined for its reception with aromatic spices, and spread over them a cloth, upon which they reverently deposited the sacred body. after having once more given expression to their love by tears and fond embraces, they left the grotto. then the blessed virgin entered, seated herself close to the head of her dear son, and bent over his body with many tears. when she left the grotto, magdalen hastily and eagerly came forward, and flung on the body some flowers and branches which she had gathered in the garden. then she clasped her hands together, and with sobs kissed the feet of jesus; but the men having informed her that they must close the sepulchre, she returned to the other women. they covered the sacred body with the extremities of the sheet on which it was lying, placed on the top of all the brown coverlet, and closed the folding-doors, which were made of a bronze-coloured metal, and had on their front two sticks, one straight down and the other across, so as to form a perfect cross. the large stone with which they intended to close the sepulchre, and which was still lying in front of the grotto, was in shape very like a chest or tomb; its length was such that a man might have laid himself down upon it, and it was so heavy that it was only by means of levers that the men could roll it before the door of the sepulchre. the entrance of the grotto was closed by a gate made of branches twined together. everything that was done within the grotto had to be accomplished by torchlight, for daylight never penetrated there. chapter liii. the return from the sepulchre. joseph of arimathea is put in prison. the sabbath was close at hand, and nicodemus and joseph returned to jerusalem by a small door not far from the garden, and which joseph had been allowed by special favour to have made in the city wall. they told the blessed virgin, magdalen, john, and some of the women, who were returning to calvary to pray there, that this door, as well as that of the super-room, would be opened to them whenever they knocked. the elder sister of the blessed virgin, mary of heli, returned to the town with mary the mother of mark, and some other women. the servants of nicodemus and joseph went to calvary to fetch several things which had been left there. the soldiers joined those who were guarding the city gate near calvary; and cassius went to pilate with the lance, related all that he had seen, and promised to give him an exact account of everything that should happen, if he would put under his command the guards whom the jews would not fail to ask to have put round the tomb. pilate listened to his words with secret terror, but only told him in reply that his superstition amounted to madness. joseph and nicodemus met peter and the two jameses in the town. they all shed many tears, but peter was perfectly overwhelmed by the violence of this grief. he embraced them, reproached himself for not having been present at the death of our saviour, and thanked them for having bestowed the rites of sepulture upon his sacred body. it was agreed that the door of the supper-room should be opened to them whenever they knocked, and then they went away to seek some other disciples who were dispersed in various directions. later i saw the blessed virgin and her companions enter the upper-room; abenadar next came and was admitted; and by degrees the greatest part of the apostles and disciples assembled there. the holy women retired to that part of the building where the blessed virgin was living. they took some food, and spent a few minutes more in tears, and in relating to one another what each had seen. then men changed their dresses, and i saw them standing under the lamp, and keeping the sabbath. they ate some lambs in the supper-room, but without observing any ceremony, for they had eaten the paschal lamb the evening before. they were all perturbed in spirit, and filled with grief. the holy women also passed their time in praying with the blessed virgin under the lamp. later, when night had quite fallen, lazarus, the widow of naim, dina the samaritan woman, and mara of suphan, came from bethania, and then, once more, descriptions were given of all that had taken place, and many tears shed. [according to the visions of sister emmerich, the three women named in the text had been living for some time at bethania, in a sort of community established by martha for the purpose of providing for the maintenance of the disciples when our lord was moving about, and for the division and distribution of the alms which were collected. the widow of naim, whose son martial was raised from the dead by jesus, according to sister emmerich, on the th marcheswan (the th of november), was named maroni. she was the daughter of an uncle, on the father's side, of st. peter. her first husband was the son of a sister of elizabeth, who herself was the daughter of a sister of the mother of st. anne. maroni's first husband having died without children, she had married elind, a relation of st. anne, and had left chasaluth, near tabor, to take up her abode at naim, which was not far off, and where she soon lost her second husband. dina, the samaritan woman, was the same who conversed with jesus by jacob's well. she was born near damascus, of parents who were half jewish and half pagan. they died while she was yet very young, and she being brought up by a woman of bad character, the seeds of the most evil passions were early sown in her heart. she had had several husbands, who supplanted one another in turn, and the last lived at sichar, whither she had followed him and changed her name from dina to salome. she had three grown-up daughters and two sons, who afterwards joined the disciples. sister emmerich used to say that the life of this samaritan woman was prophetic--that jesus had spoken to the entire sect of samaritans in her person, and that they were attached to their errors by as many ties as she had committed adulteries. mara of suphan was a moabitess, came from the neighbourhood of suphan, and was a descendant of orpha, the widow of chelion, noemi's son. orpha had married again in moab. by orpha, the sister-in-law of ruth, mara was connected with the family of david, from whom our lord was descended. sister emmerich saw jesus deliver mara from four devils and grant her forgiveness of her sins on the th elud ( th september) of the second year of his public life. she was living at ainon, having been repudiated by her husband, a rich jew, who had kept the children he had had by her with him. she had with her tree others, the offspring of her adulteries. 'i saw,' sister emmerich would say,--'i saw how the stray branch of the stock of david was purified within her by the grace of jesus, and admitted into the bosom of the church. i cannot express how many of these roots and offshoots i see become entwined with each other, lost to view, and then once more brought to light.'] joseph of arimathea returned home late from the supper-room, and he was sorrowfully walking along the streets of sion, accompanied by a few disciples and women, when all on a sudden a band of armed men, who were lying in ambuscade in the neighbourhood of caiphas's tribunal, fell upon them, and laid hands upon joseph, whereupon his companions fled, uttering loud cries of terror. he was confined in a tower contiguous to the city wall, not far from the tribunal. these soldiers were pagans, and had not to keep the sabbath, therefore caiphas had been able to secure their services on this occasion. the intention was to let joseph die of hunger, and keep his disappearance a secret. here conclude the descriptions of all that occurred on the day of the passion of our lord; but we will add some supplementary matter concerning holy saturday, the descent into hell, and the resurrection. chapter liv. on the name of calvary. whilst meditating on the name of golgotha, calvary, the place of skulls, borne by the rock upon which jesus was crucified, i became deeply absorbed in contemplation, and beheld in spirit all ages from the time of adam to that of christ, and in this vision the origin of the name was made known to me. i here give all that i remember on this subject. i saw adam, after his expulsion from paradise, weeping in the grotto where jesus sweated blood and water, on mount olivet. i saw how seth was promised to eve in the grotto of the manger at bethlehem, and how she brought him forth in that same grotto. i also saw eve living in some caverns near hebron, where the essenian monastery of maspha was afterwards established. i then beheld the country where jerusalem was built, as it appeared after the deluge, and the land was all unsettled, black, stony, and very different from what it had been before. at an immense dept below the rock which constitutes mount calvary (which was formed in this spot by the rolling of the waters), i saw the tomb of adam and eve. the head and one rib were wanting to one of the skeletons, and the remaining head was placed within the same skeleton, to which it did not belong. the bones of adam and eve had not all been left in this grave, for noah had some of them with him in the ark, and they were transmitted from generation to generation by the patriarchs. noah, and also abraham, were in the habit, when offering sacrifice, of always laying some of adam's bones upon the altar, to remind the almighty of his promise. when jacob gave joseph his variegated robe, he at the same time gave him some bones of adam, to be kept as relics. joseph always wore them on his bosom, and they were placed with his own bones in the first reliquary which the children of israel brought out of egypt. i have seen similar things, but some i have forgotten, and the others time fails me to describe. as regards the origin of the name of calvary, i here give all i know. i beheld the mountain which bears this name as it was in the time of the prophet eliseus. it was not the same then as at the time of our lord's crucifixion, but was a hill, with many walls and caverns, resembling tombs, upon it. i saw the prophet eliseus descend into these caverns, i cannot say whether in reality or only in a vision, and i saw him take out a skull from a stone sepulchre in which bones were resting. someone who was by his side--i think an angel--said to him, 'this is the skull of adam.' the prophet was desirous to take it away, but his companion forbade him. i saw upon the skull some few hairs of a fair colour. i learned also that the prophet having related what had happened to him, the spot received the name of calvary. finally, i saw that the cross of jesus was placed vertically over the skull of adam. i was informed that this spot was the exact centre of the earth; and at the same time i was shown the numbers and measures proper to every country, but i have forgotten them, individually as well as in general. yet i have seen this centre from above, and as it were from a bird's-eye view. in that way a person sees far more clearly than on a map all the different countries, mountains, deserts, seas, rivers, towns, and even the smallest places, whether distant or near at hand. chapter lv. the cross and the winepress. as i was meditating upon these words or thoughts of jesus when hanging on the cross: 'i am pressed like wine placed here under the press for the first time; my blood must continue to flow until water comes, but wine shall no more be made here,' an explanation was given me by means of another vision relating to calvary. i saw this rocky country at a period anterior to the deluge; it was then less wild and less barren than it afterwards became, and was laid out in vineyards and fields. i saw there the patriarch japhet, a majestic dark-complexioned old man, surrounded by immense flocks and herds and a numerous posterity: his children as well as himself had dwellings excavated in the ground, and covered with turf roofs, on which herbs and flowers were growing. there were vines all around, and a new method of making wine was being tried on calvary, in the presence of japhet. i saw also the ancient method of preparing wine, but i can give only the following description of it. at first men were satisfied with only eating the grapes; then they pressed them with pestles in hollow stones, and finally in large wooden trenches. upon this occasion a new wine-press, resembling the holy cross in shape, had been devised; it consisted of the hollow trunk of a tree placed upright, with a bag of grapes suspended over it. upon this bag there was fastened a pestle, surmounted by a weight; and on both sides of the trunk were arms joined to the bag, through openings made for the purpose, and which, when put in motion by lowering the ends, crushed the grapes. the juice flowed out of the tree by five openings, and fell into a stone vat, from whence it flowed through a channel made of bark and coated with resin, into the species of cistern excavated in the rock where jesus was confined before his crucifixion. at the foot of the winepress, in the stone vat, there was a sort of sieve to stop the skins, which were put on one side. when they had made their winepress, they filled the bag with grapes, nailed it to the top of the trunk, placed the pestle, and put in motion the side arms, in order to make the wine flow. all this very strongly reminded me of the crucifixion, on account of the resemblance between the winepress and the cross. they had a long reed, at the end of which there were points, so that it looked like an enormous thistle, and they ran this through the channel and trunk of the tree when there was any obstruction. i was reminded of the lance and sponge. there were also some leathern bottles, and vases made of bark and plastered with resin. i saw several young men, with nothing but a cloth wrapped round their loins like jesus, working at this winepress. japhet was very old; he wore a long beard, and a dress made of the skins of beasts; and he looked at the new winepress with evident satisfaction. it was a festival day, and they sacrificed on a stone altar some animals which were running loose in the vineyard, young asses, goats, and sheep. it was not in this place that abraham came to sacrifice isaac; perhaps it was on mount moriah. i have forgotten many of the instructions regarding the wine, vinegar, and skins, and the different ways in which everything was to be distributed to the right and to the left; and i regret it, because the veriest trifles in these matters have a profound symbolical meaning. if it should be the will of god for me to make them known, he will show them to me again. chapter lvi. apparitions on occasion of the death of jesus. among the dead who rose from their graves, and who were certainly a hundred in number, at jerusalem, there were no relations of jesus. i saw in various parts of the holy land others of the dead appear and bear testimony to the divinity of jesus. thus i saw sadoch, a most pious man, who had given all his property to the poor and to the temple, appear to many persons in the neighbourhood of hebron. this sadoch had lived a century before jesus, and was the founder of a community of essenians: he had ardently sighed for the coming of the messias, and had had several revelations upon the subject. i saw some others of the dead appear to the hidden disciples of our lord, and give them different warnings. terror and desolation reigned even in the most distant parts of palestine, and it was not in jerusalem only that frightful prodigies took place. at thirza, the towers of the prison in which the captives delivered by jesus had been confined fell down. in galilee, where jesus had travelled so much, i saw many buildings, and in particular the houses of those pharisees who had been the foremost in persecuting our saviour, and who were then all at the festival, shaken to the ground, crushing their wives and children. numerous accidents happened in the neighbourhood of the lake of genazareth. many buildings fell down at capharnaum; and the wall of rocks which was in front of the beautiful garden of the centurion zorobabel cracked across. the lake overflowed into the valley, and its waters descended as far as capharnaum, which was a mile and a half distant. peter's house, and the dwelling of the blessed virgin in front of the town, remained standing. the lake was strongly convulsed; its shores crumbled in several places, and its shape was very much altered, and became more like what it is at the present day. great changes took place, particularly at the south-eastern extremity, near tarichea, because in this part there was a long causeway made of stones, between the lake and a sort of marsh, which gave a constant direction to the course of the jordan when it left the lake. the whole of this causeway was destroyed by the earthquake. many accidents happened on the eastern side of the lake, on the spot where the swine belonging to the inhabitants of gergesa cast themselves in, and also at gergesa, gerasa, and in the entire district of chorazin. the mountain where the second multiplication of the loaves took place was shaken, and the stone upon which the miracle had been worked split in two. in decapolis, whole towns crumbled to the earth; and in asia, in several localities, the earthquake was severely felt, particularly to the east and north-east of paneas. in upper galilee, many pharisees found their houses in ruins when they returned from keeping the feast. a number of them, while yet at jerusalem, received the news of what had happened, and it was on that account that the enemies of jesus made such very slight efforts against the christian community at pentecost. a part of the temple of garizim crumbled down. an idol stood there above a fountain, in a small temple, the roof of which fell into the fountain with the idol. half of the synagogue of nazareth, out of which jesus had been drive, fell down, as well as that part of the mountain from which his enemies had endeavoured to precipitate him. the bed of the jordan was much changed by all these shocks, and its course altered in many places. at macherus, and at the other towns belonging to herod, everything remained quiet, for that country was out of the sphere of repentance and of threats, like those men who did not fall to the ground in the garden of olives, and, consequently, did not rise again. in many other parts where there were evil spirits, i saw the latter disappear in large bodies amid the falling mountains and buildings. the earthquakes reminded me of the convulsions of the possessed, when the enemy feels that he must take to flight. at gergesa, a part of the mountain from which the devils had cast themselves with the swine into a marsh, fell into this same marsh; and i then saw a band of evil spirits cast themselves into the abyss, like a dark cloud. it was at nice, unless i am mistaken, that i saw a singular occurrence, of which i have only an imperfect remembrance. there was a port there with many vessels in it; and near this port stood a house with a high tower, in which i saw a pagan whose office was to watch these vessels. he had often to ascend this tower, and see what was going on at sea. having heard a great noise over the vessels in the port, he hurriedly ascended the tower to discover what was taking place, and he saw several dark figures hovering over the port, and who exclaimed to him in plaintive accents: 'if thou desirest to preserve the vessels, cause them to be sailed out of this port, for we must return to the abyss: the great pan is dead.' they told him several other things; laid injunctions upon him to make known what they were then telling him upon his return from a certain voyage which he was soon to make, and to give a good reception to the messengers who would come to announce the doctrine of him who had just died. the evil spirits were forced in this manner by the power of god to inform this good man of their defeat, and announce it to the world. he had the vessels put in safety, and then an awful storm arose: the devils cast themselves howling into the sea, and half the city fell down. his house remained standing. soon afterwards he went on a great journey, and announced the death of the great pan, if that is the name by which our saviour had been called. later he came to rome, where much amazement was caused by what he related. his name was something like thamus or thramus. chapter lvii. guards are placed around the tomb of jesus. late on friday night, i saw caiphas and some of the chief men among the jews holding a consultation concerning the best course to pursue with regard to the prodigies which had taken place, and the effect they had had upon the people. they continued their deliberations quite into the morning, and then hurried to pilate's house, to tell him that, as that seducer said, while he was yet alive, 'after three days i will rise again,' it would be right to command the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day, as otherwise his disciples might come and steal him away, and say to the people, 'he is risen from the dead,' and the last error would be worse that the first. pilate was determined to have nothing more to do with the business, and he only answered: 'you have a guard; go, guard it as you know.' however, he appointed cassius to keep a watch over all that took place, and give him an exact account of every circumstance. i saw these men, twelve in number, leave the town before sunrise, accompanied by some soldiers who did not wear the roman uniform, being attached to the temple. they carried lanterns fastened to the end of long poles, in order that they might be able to see every surrounding object, in spite of the darkness of the night, and also that they might have some light in the dark cave of the sepulchre. no sooner had they reached the sepulchre than, having first seen with their own eyes that the body of jesus was really there, they fastened one rope across the door of the tomb, and a second across the great stone which was placed in front, sealing the whole with a seal of half-circular shape. they then returned to the city, and the guards stationed themselves opposite the outer door. they were five or six in number, and watched three and three alternately. cassius never left his post, and usually remained sitting or standing in front of the entrance to the cave, so as to see that side of the tomb where the feet of our lord rested. he had received many interior graces, and been given to understand many mysteries. being wholly unaccustomed to this state of spiritual enlightenment, he was perfectly transported out of himself, and remained nearly all the time unconscious of the presence of exterior things. he was entirely changed, had become a new man, and spent the whole day in penance, in making fervent acts of gratitude, and in humbly adoring god. chapter lviii. a glance at the disciples of jesus on holy saturday. the faithful disciples of our lord assembled together in the cenaculum, to keep the eve of the sabbath. they were about twenty in number, clothed in long white dresses, and with their waists girded. the room was lighted up by a lamp; and after their repast they separated, and for the most part returned home. they again assembled on the following morning, and sat together reading and praying by turns; and if a friend entered the room, they arose and saluted him cordially. in that part of the house inhabited by the blessed virgin there was a large room, divided into small compartments like cells, which were used by the holy women for sleeping in at night. when they returned from the sepulchre, one of their number lighted a lamp which was hanging in the middle of the room, and they all assembled around the blessed virgin, and commenced praying in a mournful but recollected manner. a short time afterwards, martha, maroni, dina, and mara, who were just come with lazarus from bethania, where they had passed the sabbath, entered the room. the blessed virgin and her companions gave them a detailed account of the death and burial of our lord, accompanying each relation with many tears. the evening was advancing, and joseph of arimathea came in with a few other disciples, to ask whether any of the women wished to return to their homes, as they were ready to escort them. a few accepted the proposition, and set off immediately; but before they reached the tribunal of caiphas, some armed men stopped joseph of arimathea, arrested, and shut him up in an old deserted turret. those among the holy women who did not leave the cenaculum retired to take their rest in the cell-like compartments spoken of above: they fastened long veils over their heads, seated themselves sorrowfully on the floor, and leaned upon the couches which were placed against the wall. after a time they stood up, spread out the bedclothes which were rolled up on the couches, took off their sandals, girdles, and a part of their clothing, and reclined for a time in order to endeavour to get a little sleep. at midnight, they arose, clothed themselves, put up their beds, and reassembled around the lamp to continue their prayer with the blessed virgin. when the mother of jesus and her pious companions had finished their nocturnal prayer (that holy duty which has been practised by all faithful children of god and holy souls, who have either felt themselves called to it by a special grace, or who follow a rule given by god and his church), they heard a knock at the door, which was instantly opened, and john and some of the disciples who had promised to conduct them to the temple, entered, upon which the women wrapped their cloaks about them, and started instantly. it was then about three in the morning, and they went straight to the temple, it being customary among many jews to get there before day dawned, on the day after they had eaten the paschal lamb; and for this reason the temple was open from midnight, as the sacrifices commenced very early. they started at about the same hour as that at which the priests had put their seal upon the sepulchre. the aspect of things in the temple was, however, very different from what was usually the case at such times, for the sacrifices were stopped, and the place was empty and desolate, as everyone had left on account of the events on the previous day which had rendered it impure. the blessed virgin appeared to me to visit it for the sole purpose of taking leave of the place where she had passed her youth. the temple was, however, open; the lamps lighted, and the people at liberty to enter the vestibule of the priests, which was the customary privilege of this day, as well as of that which followed the paschal supper. the temple was, as i said before, quite empty, with the exception of a chance priest or server who might be seen wandering about; and every part bore the marks of the confusion into which all was thrown on the previous day by the extraordinary and frightful events that had taken place; besides which it had been defiled by the presence of the dead, and i reflected and wondered in my own mind whether it would be possible ever to purify if again. the sons of simeon, and the nephew of joseph of arimathea, were much grieved when they heard of the arrest of their uncle, but they welcomed the blessed virgin and her companions, and conducted them all over the temple, which they did without difficulty, as they held the offices of inspectors of the temple. the holy women stood in silence and contemplated all the terrible and visible marks of the anger of god with feelings of deep awe, and then listened with interest to the many stupendous details recounted by their guides. the effects of the earthquake were still visible, as little had been done towards repairing the numerous rents and cracks in the floor, and in the walls. in that part of the temple where the vestibule joined the sanctuary, the wall was so tremendously shaken by the shock of the earthquake, as to produce a fissure wide enough for a person to walk through, and the rest of the wall looked unsteady, as if it might fall down at any moment. the curtain which hung in the sanctuary was rent in two and hung in shreds at the sides; nothing was to be seen around but crumbled walls, crushed flagstones, and columns either partly or quite shaken down. the blessed virgin visited all those parts which jesus had rendered sacred in her eyes; she prostrated, kissed them, and with tears in her eyes explained to the others her reasons for venerating each particular spot, whereupon they instantly followed her example. the greatest veneration was always shown by the jews for all places which had been rendered sacred by manifestations of the divine power, and it was customary to place the hands reverently on such places, to kiss them, and to prostrate to the very earth before them. i do not think there was anything in the least surprising in such a custom, for they both knew, saw, end felt that the god of abraham, of isaac, and of jacob, was a living god, and that his dwelling among his people was in the temple at jerusalem; consequently it would have been infinitely more astonishing if they had not venerated those holy parts where his power had been particularly demonstrated, for the temple and the holy places were to them what the blessed sacrament is to christians. deeply penetrated with these feelings of respect, the blessed virgin walked trough the temple with her companions, and pointed out to them the spot where she was presented when still a child, the parts where she passed her childhood, the place where she was affianced to st. joseph, and the spot where she stood when she presented jesus and heard the prophecy of simeon: the remembrance of his words made her weep bitterly, for the prophecy was indeed fulfilled, and the sword of grief had indeed transfixed her heart; she again stopped her companions when she reached the part of the temple where she found jesus teaching when she lost him at the age of twelve, and she respectfully kissed the ground on which he then stood. when the holy women had looked at every place sanctified by the presence of jesus, when they had wept and prayed over them, they returned to sion. the blessed virgin did not leave the temple without shedding many tears, as she contemplated the state of desolation to which it was reduced, an aspect of desolation which was rendered still more depressing by the marked contrast it bore to the usual state of the temple on the festival day. instead of songs and hymns of jubilee, a mournful silence reigned throughout the vast edifice, and in place of groups of joyful and devout worshippers, the eye wandered over a vast and dreary solitude. too truly, alas, did this change betoken the fearful crime which had been perpetrated by the people of god, and she remembered how jesus had wept over the temple, and said, 'destroy the temple and in three days i will build it up again.' she thought over the destruction of the temple of the body of jesus which had been brought about by his enemies, and she sighed with a longing desire for the dawning of that third day when the words of eternal truth were to be accomplished. it was about daybreak when mary and her companions reached the cenaculum, and they retired into the building which stood on its right-hand side, while john and some of the disciples re-entered the cenaculum, where about twenty men, assembled around a lamp, were occupied in prayer. every now and then new-comers drew nigh to the door, came in timidity, approached the group round the lamp, and addressed them in a few mournful words, which they accompanied with tears. everyone appeared to regard john with feelings of respect; because he had remained with jesus until he expired; but with these sentiments of respect was mingled a deep feeling of shame and confusion, when they reflected on their own cowardly conduct in abandoning their lord and master in the hour of need. john spoke to everyone with the greatest charity and kindness; his manner was modest and unassuming as that of a child, and he seemed to fear receiving praise. i saw the assembled group take one meal during that day, but its members were, for the most part, silent; not a sound was to be heard throughout the house, and the doors were tightly closed, although, in fact, there was no likelihood of anyone disturbing them, as the house belonged to nicodemus, and he had let it to them for the time of the festival. the holy women remained in this room until nightfall; it was lighted up by a single lamp; the doors were closed, and curtains drawn over the windows. sometimes they gathered round the blessed virgin and prayed under the lamp; at other times they retired to the side of the room, covered their heads with black veils, and either sat on ashes (the sign of mourning), or prayed with their faces turned towards the wall; those whose health was delicate took a little food, but the others fasted. i looked at them again and again, and i saw them ever occupied in the same manner, that is to say, either in prayer or in mourning over the sufferings of their beloved master. when my thoughts wandered from the contemplation of the blessed virgin to that of her divine son, i beheld the holy sepulchre with six or seven sentinels at the entrance--cassius standing against the door of the cave, apparently in deep meditation, the exterior door closed, and the stone rolled close to it. notwithstanding the thick door which intervened between the body of our saviour and myself i could see it plainly; it was quite transparent with a divine light, and two angels were adoring at the side. but my thoughts then turned to the contemplation of the blessed soul of my redeemer, and such an extensive and complicated picture of his descent into hell was shown to me, that i can only remember a small portion of it, which i will describe to the best of my power. chapter lix. a detached account of the descent into hell. when jesus, after uttering a loud cry, expired, i saw his heavenly soul under the form of a bright meteor pierce the earth at the foot of the cross, accompanied by the angel gabriel and many other angels. his divine nature continued united to his soul as well as to his body, which still remained hanging upon the cross, but i cannot explain how this was, although i saw it plainly in my own mind. the place into which the soul of jesus entered was divided into three parts, which appeared to me like three worlds; and i felt that they were round, and that each division was separated from the other by a hemisphere. i beheld a bright and beautiful space opposite to limbo; it was enamelled with flowers, delicious breezes wafted through it; and many souls were placed there before being admitted into heaven after their deliverance from purgatory. limbo, the place where the souls were waiting for the redemption, was divided into different compartments, and encompassed by a thick foggy atmosphere. our lord appeared radiant with light and surrounded by angels, who conducted him triumphantly between two of these compartments; the one on the left containing the patriarchs who lived before the time of abraham, and that on the right those who lived between the days of abraham and st. john the baptist. these souls did not at first recognise jesus, but were filled nevertheless with sensations of joy and hope. there was not a spot in those narrow confines which did not, as it were, dilate with feelings of happiness. the passage of jesus might be compared to the wafting of a breath of air, to a sudden flash of light, or to a shower of vivifying dew, but it was swift as a whirlwind. after passing through the two compartments, he reached a dark spot in which adam and eve were standing; he spoke to them, they prostrated and adored him in a perfect ecstasy of joy, and they immediately joined the band of angels, and accompanied our lord to the compartment on the left, which contained the patriarchs who lived before abraham. this compartment was a species of purgatory, and a few evil spirits were wandering about among the souls and endeavouring to fill them with anxiety and alarm. the entrance through a species of door was closed, but the angels rapped, and i thought i heard them say, 'open these doors.' when jesus entered in triumph the demons dispersed, crying out at the same time, 'what is there between thee and us? what art thou come to do here? wilt thou crucify us likewise?' the angels hunted them away, having first chained them. the poor souls confined in this place had only a slight presentiment and vague idea of the presence of jesus; but the moment he told them that it was he himself, they burst out into acclamations of joy, and welcomed him with hymns of rapture and delight. the soul of our lord then wended its way to the right, towards that part which really constituted limbo; and there he met the soul of the good thief which angels were carrying to abraham's bosom, as also that of the bad thief being dragged by demons into hell. our lord addressed a few words to both, and then entered abraham's bosom, accompanied by numerous angels and holy souls, and also by those demons who had been chained and expelled from the compartment. this locality appeared to me more elevated than the surrounding parts; and i can only describe my sensations on entering it, by comparing them to those of a person coming suddenly into the interior of a church, after having been for some time in the burial vaults. the demons, who were strongly chained, were extremely loth to enter, and resisted to the utmost of their power, but the angels compelled them to go forwards. all the just who had lived before the time of christ were assembled there; the patriarchs, moses, the judges, and the kings on the left-hand side; and on the right side, the prophets, and the ancestors of our lord, as also his near relations, such as joachim, anna, joseph, zacharias, elizabeth, and john. there were no demons in this place, and the only discomfort that had been felt by those placed there was a longing desire for the accomplishment of the promise; and when our lord entered they saluted him with joyful hymns of gratitude and thanksgiving for its fulfilment, they prostrated and adored him, and the evil spirits who had been dragged into abraham's bosom when our lord entered were compelled to confess with shame that they were vanquished. many of these holy souls were ordered by our lord to return to the earth, re-enter their own bodies, and thus render a solemn and impressive testimony to the truth. it was at this moment that so many dead persons left their tombs in jerusalem; i regarded them less in the light of dead persons risen again than as corpses put in motion by a divine power, and which, after having fulfilled the mission entrusted to them, were laid aside in the same manner as the insignia of office are taken off by a clerk when he has executed the orders of his superiors. i next saw our lord, with his triumphant procession, enter into a species of purgatory which was filled with those good pagans who, having had a faint glimmering of the truth, had longed for its fulfilment: this purgatory was very deep, and contained a few demons compelled to confess the deception they had practised with regard to these idols, and the souls of the poor pagans cast themselves at the feet of jesus, and adored him with inexpressible joy: here, likewise, the demons were bound with chains and dragged away. i saw our saviour perform many other actions; but i suffered so intensely at the same time, that i cannot recount them as i should have wished. finally, i beheld him approach to the centre of the great abyss, that is to say, to hell itself; and the expression of his countenance was most severe. the exterior of hell was appalling and frightful; it was an immense, heavy-looking building, and the granite of which it was formed, although black, was of metallic brightness; and the dark and ponderous doors were secured with such terrible bolts that no one could behold them without trembling. deep groans and cries of despair might be plainly distinguished even while the doors were tightly closed; but, o, who can describe the dreadful yells and shrieks which burst upon the ear when the bolts were unfastened and the doors flung open; and, o, who can depict the melancholy appearance of the inhabitants of this wretched place! the form under which the heavenly jerusalem is generally represented in my visions is that of a beautiful and well-regulated city, and the different degrees of glory to which the elect are raised are demonstrated by the magnificence of their palaces, or the wonderful fruit and flowers with which the gardens are embellished. hell is shown to me under the same form, but all within it is, on the contrary, close, confused, and crowded; every object tends to fill the mind with sensations of pain and grief; the marks of the wreath and vengeance of god are visible everywhere; despair, like a vulture, gnaws every heart, and discord and misery reign around. in the heavenly jerusalem all is peace and eternal harmony, the beginning, fulfilment, and end of everything being pure and perfect happiness; the city is filled with splendid buildings, decorated in such a manner as to charm every eye and enrapture every sense; the inhabitants of this delightful abode are overflowing with rapture and exultation, the gardens gay with lovely flowers, and the trees covered with delicious fruits which give eternal life. in the city of hell nothing is to be seen but dismal dungeons, dark caverns, frightful deserts, fetid swamps filled with every imaginable species of poisonous and disgusting reptile. in heaven you behold the happiness and peaceful union of the saints; in hell, perpetual scenes of wretched discord, and every species of sin and corruption, either under the most horrible forms imaginable, or represented by different kinds of dreadful torments. all in this dreary abode tends to fill the mind with horror; not a word of comfort is heard or a consoling idea admitted; the one tremendous thought, that the justice of an all-powerful god inflicts on the damned nothing but what they have fully deserved is the absorbing tremendous conviction which weighs down each heart. vice appears in its own grim disgusting colours, being stripped of the mask under which it is hidden in this world, and the infernal viper is seen devouring those who have cherished or fostered it here below. in a word, hell is the temple of anguish and despair, while the kingdom of god is the temple of peace and happiness. this is easy to understand when seen; but it is almost impossible to describe clearly. the tremendous explosion of oaths, curses, cries of despair, and frightful exclamations which, like a clap of thunder, burst forth when the gates of hell were thrown open by the angels, would be difficult even to imagine; our lord spoke first to the soul of judas, and the angels then compelled all the demons to acknowledge and adore jesus. they would have infinitely preferred the most frightful torments to such a humiliation; but all were obliged to submit. many were chained down in a circle which was placed round other circles. in the centre of hell i saw a dark and horrible-looking abyss, and into this lucifer was cast, after being first strongly secured with chains; thick clouds of sulphureous black smoke arose from its fearful depths, and enveloped his frightful form in the dismal folds, thus effectually concealing him from every beholder. god himself had decreed this; and i was likewise told, if i remember right, that he will be unchained for a time fifty or sixty years before the year of christ . the dates of many other events were pointed out to me which i do not now remember; but a certain number of demons are to be let loose much earlier than lucifer, in order to tempt men, and to serve as instruments of the divine vengeance. i should think that some must be loosened even in the present day, and others will be set free in a short time. it would be utterly impossible for me to describe all the things which were shown to me; their number was so great that i could not reduce them sufficiently to order to define and render them intelligible. besides which my sufferings are very great, and when i speak on the subject of my visions i behold them in my mind's eye portrayed in such vivid colours, that the sight is almost sufficient to cause a weak mortal like myself to expire. i next saw innumerable bands of redeemed souls liberated from purgatory and from limbo, who followed our lord to a delightful spot situated above the celestial jerusalem, in which place i, a very short time ago, saw the soul of a person who was very dear to me. the soul of the good thief was likewise taken there, and the promise of our lord, 'this day thou shalt be with me in paradise,' was fulfilled. it is not in my power to explain the exact time that each of these events occurred, nor can i relate one-half of the things which i saw and heard; for some were incomprehensible even to myself, and others would be misunderstood if i attempted to relate them. i have seen our lord in many different places. even in the sea he appeared to me to sanctify and deliver everything in the creation. evil spirits fled at his approach, and cast themselves into the dark abyss. i likewise beheld his soul in different parts of the earth, first inside the tomb of adam, under golgotha; and when he was there the souls of adam and eve came up to him, and he spoke to them for some time. he then visited the tombs of the prophets, who were buried at an immense depth below the surface; but he passed through the soil in the twinkling of an eye. their souls immediately re-entered their bodies, and he spoke to them, and explained the most wonderful mysteries. next i saw him, accompanied by a chosen band of prophets, among whom i particularly remarked david, visit those parts of the earth which had been sanctified by his miracles and by his sufferings. he pointed out to them, with the greatest love and goodness, the different symbols in the old law expressive of the future; and he showed them how he himself had fulfilled every prophecy. the sight of the soul of our lord, surrounded by these happy souls, and radiant with light, was inexpressibly grand as he glided triumphantly through the air, sometimes passing, with the velocity of lightning, over rivers, then penetrating though the hardest rocks to the very centre of the earth, or moving noiselessly over its surface. i can remember nothing beyond the facts which i have just related concerning the descent of jesus into limbo, where he went in order to present to the souls there detained the grace of the redemption which he had merited for them by his death and by his sufferings; and i saw all these things in a very short space of time; in fact, time passed so quickly that it seemed to me but a moment. our lord, however, displayed before me, at the same time, another picture, in which i beheld the immense mercies which he bestows in the present day on the poor souls in purgatory; for on every anniversary of this great day, when his church is celebrating the glorious mystery of his death, he casts a look of compassion on the souls in purgatory, and frees some of those who sinned against him before his crucifixion. i this day saw jesus deliver many souls; some i was acquainted with, and others were strangers to me, but i cannot name any of them. our lord, by descending into hell, planted (if i may thus express myself), in the spiritual garden of the church, a mysterious tree, the fruits of which--namely, his merits--are destined for the constant relief of the poor souls in purgatory. the church militant must cultivate the tree, and gather its fruit, in order to present them to that suffering portion of the church which can do nothing for itself. thus it is with all the merits of christ; we must labour with him if we wish to obtain our share of them; we must gain our bread by the sweat of our brow. everything which our lord has done for us in time must produce fruit for eternity; but we must gather these fruits in time, without which we cannot possess them in eternity. the church is the most prudent and thoughtful of mothers; the ecclesiastical year is an immense and magnificent garden, in which all those fruits for eternity are gathered together, that we may make use of them in time. each year contains sufficient to supply the wants of all; but woe be to that careless or dishonest gardener who allows any of the fruit committed to his care to perish; if he fails to turn to a proper account those graces which would restore health to the sick; strength to the weak, or furnish food to the hungry! when the day of judgment arrives, the master of the garden will demand a strict account, not only of every tree, but also of all the fruit produced in the garden. chapter lx. the eve of the resurrection. towards the close of the sabbath-day, john came to see the holy women. he endeavoured to give some consolation, but could not restrain his own tears, and only remained a short time with them. they had likewise a short visit from peter and james the greater, after which they retired to their cells, and gave free vent to grief, sitting upon ashes, and veiling themselves even more closely. the prayer of the blessed virgin was unceasing. she ever kept her eyes fixed interiorly on jesus, and was perfectly consumed by her ardent desire of once more beholding him whom she loved with such inexpressible love. suddenly an angel stood by her side, and bade her arise and go to the door of the dwelling of nicodemus, for that the lord was very near. the heart of the blessed virgin leaped for joy. she hastily wrapped her cloak about her, and left the holy women, without informing them where she was going. i saw her walk quickly to a small entrance which was cut in the town wall, the identical one through which she had entered when returning with her companions from the sepulchre. it was about nine o'clock at night, and the blessed virgin had almost reached the entrance, when i saw her stop suddenly in a very solitary spot, and look upwards in an ecstasy of delight, for on the top of the town wall she beheld the soul of our lord, resplendent with light, without the appearance of a wound, and surrounded by patriarchs. he descended towards her, turned to his companions, and presenting her to them, said, 'behold mary, behold my mother.' he appeared to me to salute her with a kiss, and he then disappeared. the blessed virgin knelt down, and most reverently kissed the ground on which he had stood, and the impression of her hands and knees remained imprinted upon the stones. the sight filled her with inexpressible joy, and she immediately rejoined the holy women, who were busily employed in preparing the perfumes and spices. she did not tell them what she had seen, but her firmness and strength of mind was restored. she was perfectly renovated, and therefore comforted all the rest, and endeavoured to strengthen their faith. all the holy women were sitting by a long table, the cover of which hung down to the floor, when mary returned; bundles of herbs were heaped around them, and these they mixed together and arranged; small flasks, containing sweet unctions and water of spikenard, were standing near, as also bunches of natural flowers, among which i remarked one in particular, which was like a streaked iris or a lily. magdalen, mary the daughter of cleophas, salome, johanna, and mary salome, had bought all these things in the town during the absence of mary. their intention was to go to the sepulchre before sunrise on the following day, in order to strew these flowers and perfumes over the body of their beloved master. chapter lvi. joseph of arimathea miraculously set at large. a short time after the return of the blessed virgin to the holy women, i was shown the interior of the prison in which the enemies of joseph of arimathea had confined him. he was praying fervently, when suddenly a brilliant light illuminated the whole place, and i heard a voice calling him by name, while at the same moment the roof opened, and a bright form appeared, holding out a sheet resembling that in which he had wrapped the body of jesus. joseph grasped it with both hands, and was drawn up to the opening, which closed again as soon as he had passed through; and the apparition disappeared the instant he was in safety at the tope of the tower. i know not whether it was our lord himself or an angel who thus set joseph free. he walked on the summit of the wall until he reached the neighbourhood of the cenaculum, which was near to the south wall of sion, and then climbed down and knocked at the door of that edifice, as the doors were fastened. the disciples assembled there had been much grieved when they first missed joseph, who they thought had been thrown into a sink, a report to that effect having become current. great, therefore, was their joy when they opened the door and found that it was he himself; indeed, they were almost as much delighted as when peter was miraculously delivered from prison some years after. when joseph had related what had taken place, they were filled with astonishment and delight; and after thanking god fervently gave him some refreshment, which he greatly needed. he left jerusalem that same night, and fled to arimathea, his native place, where he remained until he thought he could return safely to jerusalem. i likewise saw caiphas towards the close of the sabbath-day, at the house of nicodemus. he was conversing with him and asking many questions with pretended kindness. nicodemus answered firmly, and continued to affirm the innocence of jesus. they did not remain long together. chapter lxii. the night of resurrection. i soon after beheld the tomb of our lord. all was calm and silent around it. there were six soldiers on guard, who were either seated or standing before the door, and cassius was among them. his appearance was that of a person immersed in meditation and in the expectation of some great event. the sacred body of our blessed redeemer was wrapped in the winding-sheet, and surrounded with light, while two angels sat in an attitude of adoration, the one at the head, and the other at the feet. i had seen them in the same posture ever since he was first put into the tomb. these angels were clothed as priests. their position, and the manner in which they crossed their arms over their breasts, reminded me of the cherubim who surrounded the ark of the covenant, only they were without wings; at least i did not see any. the whole of the sepulchre reminded me of the ark of the covenant at different periods of its history. it is possible that cassius was sensible of the presence of the angels, and of the bright light which filled the sepulchre, for his attitude was like that of a person in deep contemplation before the blessed sacrament. i next saw the soul of our lord accompanied by those among the patriarchs whom he had liberated enter into the tomb through the rock. he showed them the wounds with which his sacred body was covered; and it seemed to me that the winding-sheet which previously enveloped it was removed, and that jesus wished to show the souls the excess of suffering he had endured to redeem them. the body appeared to me to be quite transparent, so that the whole depth of the wounds could be seen; and this sight filled the holy souls with admiration, although deep feelings of compassion likewise drew tears from their eyes. my next vision was so mysterious that i cannot explain or even relate it in a clear manner. it appeared to me that the soul and body of jesus were taken together out of the sepulchre, without, however, the former being completely reunited to the latter, which still remained inanimate. i thought i saw two angels who were kneeling and adoring at the head and feet of the sacred body, raise it--keeping it in the exact position in which it was lying in the tomb--and carry it uncovered and disfigured with wounds across the rock, which trembled as they passed. it then appeared to me that jesus presented his body, marked with the stigmas of the passion, to his heavenly father, who, seated on a throne, was surrounded by innumerable choirs of angels, blissfully occupied in pouring forth hymns of adoration and jubilee. the case was probably the same when at the death of our lord, so many holy souls re-entered their bodies, and appeared in the temple and in different parts of jerusalem; for it is not likely that the bodies which they animated were really alive, as in that case they would have been obliged to die a second time, whereas they returned to their original state without apparent difficulty; but it is to be supposed that their appearance in human form was similar to that of our lord, when he (if we may thus express it) accompanied his body to the throne of his heavenly father. at this moment the rock was so violently shaken, from the very summit to the base, that three of the guards fell down and became almost insensible. the other four were away at the time, being gone to the town to fetch something. the guards who were thus thrown prostrate attributed the sudden shock to an earthquake; but cassius, who, although uncertain as to what all this might portend, yet felt an inward presentiment that it was the prelude to some stupendous event, stood transfixed in anxious expectation, waiting to see what would follow next. the soldiers who were gone to jerusalem soon returned. i again beheld the holy women: they had finished preparing the spices, and were resting in their private cells; not stretched out on the couches, but leaning against the bedclothes, which were rolled up. they wished to go to the sepulchre before the break of day, because they feared meeting the enemies of jesus; but the blessed virgin, who was perfectly renovated and filled with fresh courage since she had seen her son, consoled and recommended them to sleep for a time, and then go fearlessly to the tomb, as no harm would come to them; whereupon they immediately followed her advice, and endeavoured to sleep. it was towards eleven o'clock at night when the blessed virgin, incited by irrepressible feelings of love, arose, wrapped a grey cloak around her, and left the house quite alone. when i saw her do this, i could not help feeling anxious, and saying to myself, 'how is it possible for this holy mother, who is so exhausted from anguish and terror, to venture to walk all alone through the streets at such an hour?' i saw her go first to the house of caiphas, and then to the palace of pilate, which was at a great distance off; i watched her through the whole of her solitary journey along that part which had been trodden by her son, loaded with his heavy cross; she stopped at every place where our saviour had suffered particularly, or had received any fresh outrage from his barbarous enemies. her appearance, as she walked slowly along, was that of a person seeking something; she often bent down to the ground, touched the stones with her hands, and then inundated them with kisses, if the precious blood of her beloved son was upon them. god granted her at this time particular lights and graces, and she was able without the slightest degree of difficulty to distinguish every place sanctified by his sufferings. i accompanied her through the whole of her pious pilgrimage, and i endeavoured to imitate her to the best of my power, as far as my weakness would permit. mary then went to calvary; but when she had almost reached it, she stopped suddenly, and i saw the sacred body and soul of our saviour standing before her. an angel walked in front; the two angels whom i had seen in the tomb were by his side, and the souls whom he had redeemed followed him by hundreds. the body of jesus was brilliant and beautiful, but its appearance was not that of a living body, although a voice issued from it; and i heard him describe to the blessed virgin all he had done in limbo, and then assure her that he should rise again with his glorified body; that he would then show himself to her, and that she must wait near the rock of mount calvary, and that part where she saw him fall down, until he appeared. our saviour then went towards jerusalem, and the blessed virgin, having again wrapped her veil about her, prostrated on the spot which he had pointed out. it was then, i think, past midnight, for the pilgrimage of mary over the way of the cross had taken up at least an hour; and i next saw the holy souls who had been redeemed by our saviour traverse in their turn the sorrowful way of the cross, and contemplate the different places where he had endured such fearful sufferings for their sakes. the angels who accompanied them gathered sacred flesh which had been torn off by the frequent blows he received, as also the blood with which the ground was sprinkled on those spots where he had fallen. i once more saw the sacred body of our lord stretched out as i first beheld it in the sepulchre; the angels were occupied in replacing the garments they had gathered up of his flesh, and they received supernatural assistance in doing this. when next i contemplated him it was in his winding-sheet, surrounded with a bright light and with two adoring angels by his side. i cannot explain how all these things came to pass, for they are far beyond our human comprehension; and even if i understand them perfectly myself when i see them, they appear dark and mysterious when i endeavour to explain them to others. as soon as a faint glimmering of dawn appeared in the east, i saw magdalen, mary the daughter of cleophas, johanna chusa, and salome, leave the cenaculum, closely wrapped up in their mantles. they carried bundles of spices; and one of their number had a lighted candle in her hand, which she endeavoured to conceal under her cloak. i saw them direct their trembling steps towards the small door at the house of nicodemus. chapter lxiii. the resurrection of our lord. i beheld the soul of our lord between two angels, who were in the attire of warriors: it was bright, luminous, and resplendent as the sun at mid-day; it penetrated the rock, touched the sacred body, passed into it, and the two were instantaneously united, and became as one. i then saw the limbs move, and the body of our lord, being reunited to his soul and to his divinity, rise and shake off the winding-sheet: the whole of the cave was illuminated and lightsome. at the same moment i saw a frightful monster burst from the earth underneath the sepulchre. it had the tail of a serpent, and it raised its dragon head proudly as if desirous of attacking jesus; and had likewise, if i remember correctly, a human head. but our lord held in his hand a white staff, to which was appended a large banner; and he placed his foot on the head of the dragon, and struck its tail three times with his staff, after which the monster disappeared. i had had this same vision many times before the resurrection, and i saw just such a monster, appearing to endeavour to hide itself, at the time of the conception of our lord: it greatly resembled the serpent which tempted our first parents in paradise, only it was more horrible. i thought that this vision had reference to the prophetic words, that 'by the seed of the woman the head of the serpent should be crushed,' and that the whole was intended to demonstrate the victory of our lord over death, for at the same moment that i saw him crush the head of the monster, the tomb likewise vanished from my sight. i then saw the glorified body of our lord rise up, and it passed through the hard rock as easily as if the latter had been formed of some ductile substance. the earth shook, and an angel in the garb of a warrior descended from heaven with the speed of lightning, entered the tomb, lifted the stone, placed it on the right side, and seated himself upon it. at this tremendous sight the soldiers fell to the ground, and remained there apparently lifeless. when cassius saw the bright light which illuminated the tomb, he approached the place where the sacred body had been placed, looked at and touched the linen clothes in which it had been wrapped, and left the sepulchre, intending to go and inform pilate of all that had happened. however, he tarried a short time to watch the progress of events; for although he had felt the earthquake, seen the angel move the stone, and looked at the empty tomb, yet he had not seen jesus. at the very moment in which the angel entered the sepulchre and the earth quaked, i saw our lord appear to his holy mother on calvary. his body was beautiful and lightsome, and its beauty was that of a celestial being. he was clothed in a large mantle, which at one moment looked dazzlingly white, as it floated through the air, waving to and fro with every breath of wind, and the next reflected a thousand brilliant colours as the sunbeams passed over it. his large open wounds shone brightly, and could be seen from a great distance: the wounds in his hands were so large that a finger might be put into them without difficulty; and rays of light proceeded from them, diverging in the direction of his fingers. the souls of the patriarchs bowed down before the mother of our saviour, and jesus spoke to her concerning his resurrection, telling her many things which i have forgotten. he showed her his wounds; and mary prostrated to kiss his sacred feet; but he took her hand, raised her, and disappeared. when i was at some distance from the sepulchre i saw fresh lights burning there, and i likewise beheld a large luminous spot in the sky immediately over jerusalem. chapter lxiv. the holy women at the sepulchre. the holy women were very near the door of nicodemus's house at the moment of our lord's resurrection; but they did not see anything of the prodigies which were taking place at the sepulchre. they were not aware that guards had been placed around the tomb, for they had not visited it on the previous day, on account of its being the sabbath. they questioned one another anxiously concerning what would have to be done about the large stone at the door, as to who would be the best person to ask about removing it, for they had been so engrossed by grief that they had not thought about it before. their intention was to pour precious ointments upon the body of jesus, and then to strew over it flowers of the most rare and aromatic kinds, thus rendering all the honour possible to their divine master in his sepulchre. salome, who had brought more things than anyone else, was a rich lady, who lived in jerusalem, a relation of st. joseph, but not the mother of john. the holy women came to the determination of putting down their spices on the stone which closed the door of the monument, and waiting until someone came to roll it back. the guards were still lying on the ground, and the strong convulsions which even then shook them clearly demonstrated how great had been their terror, and the large stone was cast on one side, so that the door could be opened without difficulty. i could see the linen cloth in which the body of jesus had been wrapped scattered about in the tomb, and the large winding-sheet lying in the same place as when they left it, but doubled together in such a manner that you saw at once that it no longer contained anything but the spices which had been placed round the body, and the bandages were on the outside of the tomb. the linen cloth in which mary had enveloped the sacred head of her son was still there. i saw the holy women coming into the garden; but when they perceived the light given by the lamps of the sentinels, and the prostrate forms of the soldiers round the tomb, they for the most part became much alarmed, and retreated towards golgotha. mary magdalen was, however, more courageous, and, followed by salome, entered the garden while the other women remained timidly on the outside. magdalen started, and appeared for a moment terrified when she drew near the sentinels. she retreated a few steps and rejoined salome, but both quickly recovered their presence of mind, and walked on together through the midst of the prostrate guards, and entered into the cave which contained the sepulchre. they immediately perceived that the stone was removed, but the doors were closed, which had been done in all probability by cassius. magdalen opened them quickly, looked anxiously into the sepulchre, and was much surprised at seeing that the cloths in which they had enveloped our lord were lying on one side, and that the place where they had deposited the sacred remains was empty. a celestial light filled the cave, and an angel was seated on the right side. magdalen became almost beside herself from disappointment and alarm. i do not know whether she heard the words which the angel addressed to her, but she left the garden as quickly as possible, and ran to the town to inform the apostles who were assembled there of what had taken place. i do not know whether the angel spoke to mary salome, as she did not enter the sepulchre; but i saw her leaving the garden directly after magdalen, in order to relate all that had happened to the rest of the holy women, who were both frightened and delighted at the news, but could not make up their minds as to whether they would go to the garden or not. in the mean time cassius had remained near the sepulchre in hopes of seeing jesus, as he thought he would be certain to appear to the holy women; but seeing nothing, he directed his steps towards pilate's palace to relate to him all that had happened, stopping, however, first at the place where the rest of the holy women were assembled, to tell them what he had seen, and to exhort them to go immediately to the garden. they followed his advice, and went there at once. no sooner had they reached the door of the sepulchre than they beheld two angels clothed in sacerdotal vestments of the most dazzling white. the women were very much alarmed, covered their faces with their hands, and prostrated almost to the ground; but one of the angels addressed them, bade them not fear, and told them that they must not seek for their crucified lord there, for that he was alive, had risen, and was no longer an inhabitant of the tomb. he pointed out to them at the same moment the empty sepulchre, and ordered them to go and relate to the disciples all that they had seen and heard. he likewise told them that jesus would go before them into galilee, and recalled to their minds the words which our saviour had addressed to them on a former occasion: 'the son of man will be delivered into the hands of sinners, he will be crucified, and the third day rise again.' the angels then disappeared, and left the holy women filled with joy, although of course greatly agitated; they wept, looked at the empty tomb and linen clothes, and immediately started to return to the town. but they were so much overcome by the many astounding events which had taken place, that they walked very slowly, and stopped and looked back often, in hopes of seeing our lord, or at least magdalen. in the mean time magdalen reached the cenaculum. she was so excited as to appear like a person beside herself, and knocked hastily at the door. some of the disciples were still sleeping, and those who were risen were conversing together. peter and john opened the door, but she only exclaimed, without entering the house, 'they have taken away the body of my lord, and i know not where they have laid him,' and immediately returned to the garden. peter and john went back into the house, and after saying a few words to the other disciples followed her as speedily as possible, but john far outstripped peter. i then saw magdalen reenter the garden, and direct her steps towards the sepulchre; she appeared greatly agitated partly from grief, and partly from having walked so fast. her garments were quite moist with dew, and her veil hanging on one side, while the luxuriant hair in which she had formerly taken so much pride fell in dishevelled masses over her shoulders, forming a species of mantle. being alone, she was afraid of entering the cave, but stopped for a moment on the outside, and knelt down in order to see better into the tomb. she was endeavouring to push back her long hair, which fell over her face and obscured her vision, when she perceived the two angels who were seated in the tomb, and i heard one of them address her thus: 'woman, why weepest thou?' she replied, in a voice choked with tears (for she was perfectly overwhelmed with grief at finding that the body of jesus was really gone), 'because they have taken away my lord, and i know not where they have laid him.' she said no more, but seeing the empty winding-sheet, went out of the sepulchre and began to look about in other parts. she felt a secret presentiment that not only should she find jesus, but that he was even then near to her; and the presence of the angels seemed not to disturb her in the least; she did not appear even to be aware that they were angels, every faculty was engrossed with the one thought, 'jesus is not here! where is jesus?' i watched her wandering about like an insane person, with her hair floating loosely in the wind: her hair appeared to annoy her much, for she again endeavoured to push it from off her face, and having divided it into two parts, threw it over her shoulders. she then raised her head, looked around, and perceived a tall figure, clothed in white, standing at about ten paces from the sepulchre on the east side of the garden, where there was a slight rise in the direction of the town; the figure was partly hidden from her sight by a palm-tree, but she was somewhat startled when it addressed her in these words: 'woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?' she thought it was the gardener; and, in fact, he had a spade in his hand, and a large hat (apparently made of the bark of trees) on his head. his dress was similar to that worn by the gardener described in the parable which jesus had related to the holy women at bethania a short time before his passion. his body was not luminous, his hole appearance was rather that of a man dressed in white and seen by twilight. at the words, 'whom seekest thou?' she looked at him, and answered quickly, 'sir, if thou hast taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him; and i will take him away.' and she looked anxiously around. jesus said to her, 'mary.' she then instantly recognised his beloved voice, and turning quickly, replied, 'rabboni (master)!' she threw herself on her knees before him, and stretched out her hands to touch his feet; but he motioned her to be still, and said, 'do not touch me, for i am not yet ascended to my father; but go to my brethren and say to them: i ascend to my father and to your father, to my god and your god.' he then disappeared. the reason of the words of jesus, 'do not touch me,' was afterwards explained to me, but i have only an indistinct remembrance of that explanation. i think he made use of those words because of the impetuosity of magdalen's feelings, which made her in a certain degree forget the stupendous mystery which had been accomplished, and feel as if what she then beheld was still mortal instead of a glorified body. as for the words of jesus, 'i am not yet ascended to my father,' i was told that their meaning was that he had not presented himself to his father since his resurrection, to return him thanks for his victory over death, and for the work of the redemption which he had accomplished. he wished her to infer from these words, that the first-fruits of joy belong to god, and that she ought to reflect and return thanks to him for the accomplishment of the glorious mystery of the redemption, and for the victory which he had gained over death; and if she had kissed his feet as she used before the passion, she would have thought of nothing but her divine master, and in her raptures of love have totally forgotten the wonderful events which were causing such astonishment and joy in heaven. i saw magdalen arise quickly, as soon as our lord disappeared, and run to look again in the sepulchre, as if she believed herself under the influence of a dream. she saw the two angels still seated there, and they spoke to her concerning the resurrection of our lord in the same words as they had addressed the two other women. she likewise saw the empty winding-sheet, and then, feeling certain that she was not in a state of delusion, but that the apparition of our lord was real, she walked quickly back towards golgotha to seek her companions, who were wandering about to and fro, anxiously looking out for her return, and indulging a kind of vague hope that they should see or hear something of jesus. the whole of this scene occupied a little more than two or three minutes. it was about half-past three when our lord appeared to magdalen, and john and peter entered the garden just as she was leaving it. john, who was a little in advance of peter, stopped at the entrance of the cave and looked in. he saw the linen clothes lying on one side, and waited until peter came up, when they entered the sepulchre together, and saw the winding-sheet empty as has been before described. john instantly believed in the resurrection, and they both understood clearly the words addressed to them by jesus before his passion, as well as the different passages in scripture relating to that event, which had until then been incomprehensible to them. peter put the linen clothes under his cloak, and they returned hastily into the town through the small entrance belonging to nicodemus. the appearance of the holy sepulchre was the same when the two apostles entered as when magdalen first saw it. the two adoring angels were seated, one at the head, and the other at the extremity of the tomb, in precisely the same attitude as when his adorable body was lying there. i do not think peter was conscious of their presence. i afterwards heard john tell the disciples of emmaus, that when he looked into the sepulchre he saw an angel. perhaps he was startled by this sight, and therefore drew back and let peter enter the sepulchre first; but it is likewise very possible that the reason of his not mentioning the circumstance in his gospel was because humility made him anxious to conceal the fact of his having been more highly favoured than peter. the guards at this moment began to revive, and rising, gathered up their lances, and took down the lamps, which were on the door, from whence they cast a glimmering weak light on surrounding objects. i then saw them walk hastily out of the garden in evident fear and trepidation, in the direction of the town. in the mean time magdalen had rejoined the holy women, and given them the account of her seeing the lord in the garden, and of the words of the angels afterwards, whereupon they immediately related what had been seen by themselves, and magdalen wended her way quickly to jerusalem, while the women returned to that side of the garden where they expected to find the two apostles. just before they reached it, jesus appeared to them. he was clothed in a long white robe, which concealed even his hands, and said to them, 'all hail.' they started with astonishment, and cast themselves at his feet; he spoke a few words, held forth his hand as if to point out something to them, and disappeared. the holy women went instantly to the cenaculum, and told the disciples who were assembled there that they had seen the lord; the disciples were incredulous, and would not give credence either to their account or to that of magdalen. they treated both the one and the other as the effects of their excited imaginations; but when peter and john entered the room and related what they likewise had seen, they knew not what to answer, and were filled with astonishment. peter and john soon left the cenaculum, as the wonderful events which had taken place rendered them extremely silent and thoughtful, and before long they met james the less and thaddeus, who had wished to accompany them to the sepulchre. both james and thaddeus were greatly overcome, for the lord had appeared to them a short time before they met peter and john. i also saw jesus pass quite close to peter and john. i think the former recognised him, for the started suddenly, but i do not think the latter saw him. chapter lxv. the relation which was given by the sentinels who were placed around the sepulchre. cassius hastened to the house of pilate about an hour after the resurrection, in order to give him an account of the stupendous events which had taken place. he was not yet risen, but cassius was allowed to enter his bedroom. he related all that had happened, and expressed his feelings in the most forcible language. he described how the rock had been rent, and how an angel had descended from heaven and pushed aside the stone; he also spoke of the empty winding-sheet, and added that most certainly jesus was the messiah, the son of god, and that he was truly risen. pilate listened to this account; he trembled and quivered with terror, but concealed his agitation to the best of his power, and answered cassius in these words: 'thou art exceedingly superstitious; it was very foolish to go to the galilean's tomb; his gods took advantage of thy weakness, and displayed all these ridiculous visions to alarm thee. i recommend thee to keep silence, and not recount such silly tales to the priests, for thou wouldst get the worst of it from them.' he pretended to believe that the body of jesus had been carried away by his disciples, and that the sentinels, who had been bribed, and had fallen asleep, or perhaps been deceived by witchcraft, had fabricated these accounts in order to justify their conduct. when pilate had said all he could on the subject, cassius left him, and he went to offer sacrifice to his gods. the four soldiers who had guarded the tomb arrived shortly after at pilate's palace, and began to tell him all that he had already heard from cassius; but he would listen to nothing more, and sent them to caiphas. the rest of the guards were assembled in a large court near the temple which was filled with aged jews, who, after some previous consultation, took the soldiers on one side, and by dint of bribes and threats endeavoured to persuade them to say that they fell asleep, and that while they were asleep the disciples came and carried away the body of our lord. the soldiers, however, demurred, because the statement which their comrades were gone to make to pilate would contradict any account which they could now fabricate, but the pharisees promised to arrange everything with the governor. whilst they were still disputing, the four guards returned from their interview with pilate, and the pharisees endeavoured to persuade them to conceal the truth; but this they refused to do, and declared firmly that they would not vary their first statement in the smallest degree. the miraculous deliverance of joseph of arimathea from prison was become public, and when the pharisees accused the soldiers of having allowed the apostles to carry off the body of jesus, and threatened them with the infliction of the most severe punishment if they did not produce the body, they replied, that it would be as utterly impossible for them to produce the body of jesus, as it was for the soldiers who had charge of joseph of arimathea to bring him back into his prison again. they spoke with the greatest firmness and courage; promises and menaces were equally ineffectual. they declared that they would speak the truth and nothing but the truth; that the sentence of death which had been passed upon jesus was both unjust and iniquitous; and that the crime which was perpetrated in putting him to death was the sole cause of the interruption in the paschal solemnity. the pharisees, being perfectly furious, caused the four soldiers to be arrested and thrown into prison, and the others, who had accepted the bribes they offered, then affirmed that the body of jesus had been carried off by the disciples while they slept; and the pharisees, sadducees, and herodians endeavoured to disseminate this lie to the utmost of their power, not only in the synagogue but also among the people; and they accompanied this false statement by the most slanderous lies concerning jesus. all these precautions, however, availed but little, for, after the resurrection, many persons who had been long dead arose from their graves, and appeared to those among their descendants who were not sufficiently hardened to be impervious to grace, and exhorted them to be converted. these dead persons were likewise seen by many of the disciples, who, overcome with terror, and shaken in faith, had fled into the country. they both exhorted and encouraged them to return, and restored their drooping courage. the resurrection of these dead persons did not in the slightest degree resemble the resurrection of jesus. he arose with a glorified body, which was no longer susceptible of either corruption or death, and ascended into heaven with this glorified body in the sight of all his disciples; but the dead bodies of which we spoke above were motionless corpses, and the souls which once inhabited them were only allowed to enter and reanimate them for a time, and after performing the mission given them, the souls again quitted these bodies, which returned to their original state in the bowels of the earth, where they will remain until the resurrection at the day of judgment. neither could their return to life be compared to the raising of lazarus from the dead; for he really returned to a new life, and died a second time. chapter lxvi. the end of the lenten meditations. on the following sunday, if i remember right, i saw the jews washing and purifying the temple. they offered up expiatory sacrifices, cleared away the rubbish, and endeavoured to conceal the effects of the earthquake by placing planks and carpets over the chasms and fissures made by it in the walls and on the pavement; and they recommenced the paschal solemnities, which had been interrupted in the midst, declared that the disturbance had been caused by the presence of impure persons, and endeavoured to explain away the apparition of the dead. they referred to a vision of ezechiel, but how i can no longer remember. they threatened all who dared to say a syllable concerning the events which had taken place, or who presumed to murmur, with excommunication and other severe punishments. they succeeded in silencing some few hardened persons who, conscious of their own guilt, wished to banish the subject from their minds, but they made no impression on those whose hearts still retained some remains of virtue; they remained silent for a time, concealing their inward belief, but later, regaining courage, proclaimed their faith in jesus loudly to the world. the high priests were much disconcerted, when they perceived how rapidly the doctrines of christ spread over the country. when stephen was deacon, the whole of ophel and the eastern side of sion was too small to contain the numerous christian communities, and a portion were obliged to take up their residence in the country between jerusalem and bethania. i saw annas in such a state of frenzy as to act like one possessed; he was at last obliged to be confined, and never again to make his appearance in public. caiphas was outwardly less demonstrative, but he was inwardly devoured with such rage and extreme jealousy that his reason was affected. i saw pilate on easter thursday; he was instituting a search for his wife in every part of the city, but his efforts for her recovery were fruitless; she was concealed in the house of lazarus, in jerusalem. no one thought of looking there, as the house contained no other female; but stephen carried food to her there, and let her know all that was going on in the city. stephen was first-cousin to st. paul. they were the sons of two brothers. on the day after the sabbath, simon of cyrene went to the apostles and begged to be instructed and to receive baptism. the visions of sister emmerich, which had continued from the th of february to the th of april , here came to a conclusion. appendix. detached account of longinus. on the th of march , sister emmerich gave the following detached account of parts of a vision which she had had the previous night concerning st. longinus, whose festival happened to fall upon that very day, although she did not know it. longinus, who had, i think, another name, held on office, partly civil and partly military, in the household of pilate, who entrusted him with the duty of superintending all that passed, and making a report of it to him. he was trustworthy and ready to do a service, but previous to his conversion was greatly wanting in firmness and strength of character. he was excessively impetuous in all that he did, and anxious to be thought a person of great importance, and as he squinted and had weak eyes, he was often jeered at and made the laughing-stock of his companions. i have seen him frequently during the course of this night, and in connection with him i have at the same time seen all the passion, i do not know in what manner; i only remember that it was in connection with him. longinus was only in a subordinate position, and had to give an account to pilate of all that he saw. on the night that jesus was led before the tribunal of caiphas he was in the outer court among the soldiers, and unceasingly going backwards and forwards. when peter was alarmed at the words of the maid-servant standing near the fire, it was he who said once: 'art thou not also one of this man's disciples?' when jesus was being led to calvary, longinus, by pilate's orders, followed him closely, and our divine lord gave him a look which touched his heart. afterwards i saw him on golgotha with the soldiers. he was on horseback, and carried a lance; i saw him at pilate's house, after the death of our lord, saying that the legs of jesus ought not to be broken. he returned at once to calvary. his lance was made of several pieces which fitted one into the other, so that by drawing them out, the lance could be made three times its original length. he had just done this when he came to the sudden determination of piercing the side of our saviour. he was converted upon mount calvary, and a short time afterwards expressed to pilate his conviction that jesus was the son of god. nicodemus prevailed upon pilate to let him have longinus's lance, and i have seen many things concerning the subsequent history of this lance. longinus, after his conversion, left the army, and joined the disciples. he and two other soldiers, who were converted at the foot of the cross, were among the first baptised after pentecost. i saw longinus and these two men, clothed in long white garments, return to their native land. they lived there in the country, in a barren and marshy locality. here it was that the forty martyrs died. longinus was not a priest, but a deacon, and travelled here and there in that capacity, preaching the name of christ, and giving, as an eye-witness, a history of his passion and resurrection. he converted a large number of persons, and cured many of the sick, by allowing them to touch a piece of the sacred lance which he carried with him. the jews were much enraged at him and his two companions because they made known in all parts the truth of the resurrection of jesus, and the cruelty and deceits of his enemies. at their instigation, some roman soldiers were dispatched to longinus's country to take and judge him on the plea of his having left the army without leave, and being a disturber of public peace. he was engaged in cultivating his field when they arrived, and he took them to his house, and offered them hospitality. they did not know him, and when they had acquainted him with the object of their journey, he quietly called his two companions who were living in a sort of hermitage at no great distance off, and told the soldiers that they and himself were the men for whom they were seeking. the same thing happened to the holy gardener, phocas. the soldiers were really distressed, for they had conceived a great friendship for him. i saw him led with his two companions to a small neighbouring town, where they were questioned. they were not put in prison, but permitted to go whither they pleased, as prisoners on their word, and only made to wear a distinctive park on the shoulder. later, they were all three beheaded on a hill, situated between the little town and longinus's house, and there buried. the soldiers put the head of longinus at the end of a spear, and carried it to jerusalem, as a proof that they had fulfilled their commission. i think i remember that this took place a very few years after the death of our lord. afterwards i had a vision of things happening at a later period. a blind countrywoman of st. longinus went with her son on a pilgrimage to jerusalem, in hopes of recovering her sight in the holy city where the eyes of longinus had been cured. she was guided by her child, but he died, and she was left alone and disconsolate. then st. longinus appeared to her, and told her that she would recover her sight when she had drawn his head out of a sink into which the jews had thrown it. this sink was a deep well, with the sides bricked, and all the filth and refuse of the town flowed into it through several drains. i saw some persons lead the poor woman to the spot; she descended into the well up to her neck, and drew out the sacred head, whereupon she recovered her sight. she returned to her native land, and her companions preserved the head. i remember no more upon this subject. detached account of abenadar. on the st of april , sister emmerich said that that day was the feast of st. ctesiphon, the centurion who had assisted at the crucifixion, and that she had seen during the night various particulars concerning his life. but she had also suffered greatly, which, combined with exterior distractions, had caused her to forget the greatest part of what she had seen. she related what follows: abenadar, afterwards called ctesiphon, was born in a country situated between babylon and egypt in arabia felix, to the right of the spot where job dwelt during the latter half of his life. a certain number of square houses, with flat roofs, were built there on a slight ascent. there were many small trees growing on this spot, and incense and balm were gathered there. i have been in abenadar's house, which was large and spacious, as might be expected of a rich man's house, but it was also very low. all these houses were built in this manner, perhaps on account of the wind, because they were much exposed. abenadar had joined the garrison of the fortress antonia, at jerusalem, as a volunteer. he had entered the roman service for the purpose of enjoying more facilities in his study of the fine arts, for he was a learned man. his character was firm, his figure short and thick-set, and his complexion dark. abenadar was early convinced, by the doctrine which he heard jesus preach, and by a miracle which he saw him work; that salvation was to be found among the jews, and he had submitted to the law of moses. although not yet a disciple of our lord, he bore him no illwill, and held his person in secret veneration. he was naturally grave and composed, and when he came to golgotha to relieve guard, he kept order on all sides, and forced everybody to behave at least with common decency, down to the moment when truth triumphed over him, and he rendered public testimony to the divinity of jesus. being a rich man, and a volunteer, he had no difficulty in resigning his post at once. he assisted at the descent from the cross and the burial of our lord, which put him into familiar connection with the friends of jesus, and after the day of pentecost he was one of the first to receive baptism in the pool of bethsaida, where he took the name of ctesiphon. he had a brother living in arabia, to whom he related the miracles he had beheld, and who was thus called to the path of salvation, came to jerusalem, was baptised by the name of cecilius, and was charged, together with ctesiphon, to assist the deacons in the newly-formed christian community. ctesiphon accompanied the apostle st. james the greater into spain, and also returned with him. after a time, he was again sent into spain by the apostles, and carried there the body of st. james, who had been martyred at jerusalem. he was made a bishop, and resided chiefly in a sort of island or peninsula at no great distance from france, which he also visited, and where he made some disciples. the name of the place where he lived was rather like vergui, and it was afterwards laid waste by an inundation. i do not remember that ctesiphon was ever martyred. he wrote several books containing details concerning the passion of christ; but there have been some books falsely attributed to him, and others, which were really from his pen, ascribed to different writers. rome has since rejected these books, the greatest part of which were apocryphal, but which nevertheless did contain some few things really from his pen. one of the guards of our lord's sepulchre, who would not let himself be bribed by the jews, was his fellow countryman and friend. his name was something like sulei or suleii. after being detained some time in prison, he retired into a cavern of mount sinai, where he lived seven years. god bestowed many special graces upon this man, and he wrote some very learned books in the style of denis the areopagite. another writer made use of his works, and in this manner some extracts from them have come down to us. everything concerning these facts was made known to me, as well as the name of the book, but i have forgotten it. this countryman of ctesiphon, afterwards followed him into spain. among the companions of ctesiphon in that country were this brother cecilius, and some other men, whose name were intalecius, hesicius, and euphrasius. another arab, called sulima, was converted in the very early days of the church, and a fellow countryman of ctesiphon, with a name like sulensis, became a christian later, in the time of the deacons. the end. anne catherine's visions clearly fall in the category of private revelation. sacred scripture and sacred tradition are infallible; private revelation is fallible. however, her visions are neither mere human meditations nor pious fiction. her account of events in the lives of jesus and mary were revealed to her by god. although god cannot err in anything he does, errors can be introduced into private revelation by a misunderstanding on the part of the person who receives the revelation, or by an error made by the person who writes down or transmits the revelation. sacred scripture and sacred tradition are immune from these types of error; private revelation is not. anne catherine's visions come from god, but they are fallible because they come to us through fallible human persons. her name in german, her native language, is anna katharina emmerick. with the decree of april , , the servant of god anna katharina emmerick has been awarded the degree of heroic virtue (decretum super virtutibus), with which she has been awarded by church practice the title "venerable." in more modern times, holy persons who also had the stigmata include: audrey marie santo (worcester, massachusetts), venerable padre pio of pietrelcina, venerable anna maria taigi, theresa neumann, and many others. in her book, the life of jesus christ and biblical revelations, anne catherine emmerich details the events of the / -year ministry of jesus christ. although she explicitly states that christ's ministry lasted / years (vol. , p. ), the astute reader of that work will notice a gap of about one year. she here again explained the manner in which the families assembled together, and in what numbers. but the writer has forgotten her words. she was not certain that the blessed sacrament was administered in that order, for on another occasion she had seen john the last to receive. it was not without surprise that the editor, some years after these things had been related by sister emmerich, read, in the latin edition of the roman catechism (mayence, muller), in reference to the sacrament of confirmation, that, according to the tradition of the holy pope fabian, jesus taught his apostles in what manner they were to prepare the holy chrism, after the institution of the blessed sacrament. the pope says expressly, in the th paragraph of his second epistle to the bishops of the east: 'our predecessors received from the apostles and delivered to us that our saviour jesus christ, after having made the last supper with his apostles and washed their feet, taught them how to prepare the holy chrism.' on the th of december , in her visions of the public life of jesus, she saw our lord permit the devils whom he had expelled from the men of gergesa to enter into a herd of swine, she also saw, on this particular occasion that the possessed men first overturned a large vat filled with some fermented liquid. dulmen is a small town in westphalia, where sister emmerich lived at this time. mary of heli is often spoken of in this relation. according to sister emmerich, she was the daughter of st. joachim and st. anne, and was born nearly twenty years before the blessed virgin. she was not the child of promise, and is called mary of heli, by which she is distinguished from the other of the same name, because she was the daughter of joachim, or heliachim. her husband bore the name of cleophas, and her daughter that of mary of cleophas. this daughter was, however, older than her aunt, the blessed virgin, and had been married first to alpheus, by whom she had three sons, afterwards the apostles simon, james the less and thaddeus. she had one son by her second husband, sabat, and another called simon, by her third husband, jonas. simon was afterwards bishop of jerusalem. these meditations on the sufferings of jesus filled sister emmerich with such feelings of compassion that she begged of god to allow her to suffer as he had done. she instantly became feverish and parched with thirst, and, by morning, was speechless from the contraction of her tongue and of her lips. she was in this state when her friend came to her in the morning, and she looked like a victim which had just been sacrificed. those around succeeded, with some difficulty, in moistening her mouth with a little water, but it was long before she could give any further details concerning her meditations on the passion. the zacharias here referred to was the father of john the baptist, who was tortured and afterwards put to death by herod, because he would not betray john into the hands of the tyrant. he was buried by his friends within the precincts of the temple. sister emmerich added: 'cassius was baptised by the name of longinus; and was ordained deacon, and preached the faith. he always kept some of the blood of christ,--it dried up, but was found in his coffin in italy. he was buried in a town at no great distance from the locality where st. clare passed her life. there is a lake with an island upon it near this town, and the body of longinus must have been taken there.' sister emmerich appears to designate mantua by this description, and there is a tradition preserved in that town to the effect. i do not know which st. clare lived in the neighbourhood. we must here remark that, in the four years during which sister emmerich had her visions, she described everything that had happened to the holy places from the earliest times down to our own. more than once she beheld them profaned and laid waste, but always venerated, either publicly or privately. she saw many stones and pieces of rock, which had been silent witnesses of the passion and resurrection of our lord, placed by st. helena in the church of the holy sepulchre upon occasion of the foundation of that sacred building. when sister emmerich visited it in spirit she was accustomed to venerate the spots where the cross had stood and the holy sepulchre been situated. it must be observed, however, that she used sometimes to see a greater distance between the actual position of the tomb and the spot where the cross stood than there is between the chapels which bear their names in the church at jerusalem. on good friday, march th, , as sister emmerich was contemplating the descent from the cross she suddenly fainted, in the presence of the writer of these lines, and appeared to be really dead. but after a time she recovered her senses and gave the following explanation, although still in a state of great suffering: 'as i was contemplating the body of jesus lying on the knees of the blessed virgin i said to myself: "how great is her strength! she has not fainted even once!" my guide reproached me for this thought--in which there was more astonishment than compassion--and said to me, "suffer then what she has suffered!" and at the same moment a sensation of the sharpest anguish transfixed me like a sword, so that i believed i must have died from it.' she had had an illness which reduced her almost to the brink of the grave. sister emmerich said that the shape of these pincers reminded her of the scissors with which samson's hair was cut off. in her visions of the third year of the public life of jesus she had seen our lord keep the sabbathday at misael--a town belonging to the levites, of the tribe of aser--and as a portion of the book of judges was read in the synagogue, sister emmerich beheld upon that occasion the life of samson. sister emmerich was accustomed, when speaking of persons of historical importance, to explain how they divided their hair. 'eve,' she said, 'divided her hair in two parts, but mary into three.' and she appeared to attach importance to these words. no opportunity presented itself for her to give any explanation upon the subject, which probably would have shown what was done with the hair in sacrifices, funerals, consecrations, or vows, etc. she once said of samson: 'his fair hair, which was long and thick, was gathered up on his head in seven tresses, like a helmet, and the ends of these tresses were fastened upon his forehead and temples. his hair was not in itself the source of his strength, but only as the witness to the vow which he had made to let it grow in god's honour. the powers which depended upon these seven tresses were the seven gifts of the holy ghost. he must have already broken his vows and lost many graces, when he allowed this sign of being a nazarene to be cut off. i did not see dalila cut off all his hair, and i think one lock remained on his forehead. he retained the grace to do penance and of that repentance by which he recovered strength sufficient to destroy his enemies. the life of samson is figurative and prophetic.' this refers to a custom of the diocese of munster. during lent there was hung up in the churches a curtain, embroidered in open work, representing the five wounds, the instruments of the passion, etc. apparently sister emmerich here spoke of the ancient cases in which her poor countrymen keep their clothes. the lower part of these cases is smaller than the upper, and this gives them some likeness to a tomb. she had one of these cases, which she called her chest. she often described the stone by this comparison, but her descriptions have not, nevertheless, given us a very clear idea of its shape. the above relation was given later, and it is impossible to say whether it relates to the day of the resurrection or to the following sunday. [illustration] happy are thy men, happy are these thy servants, which stand continually before thee and that hear thy wisdom kings x coming to the king by frances ridley havergal coming to the king. i came from very far to see the king of salem, for i had been told of glory and of wisdom manyfold, and condescension infinite and free. now could i rest, when i had heard his fame, in that dark lonely land of death, from whence i came? i came (but not like sheba's queen), alone! no stately train, no costly gifts to bring; no friend at court, save one the king! i had requests to spread before his throne, and i had questions none could solve for me, of import deep, and full of mystery. [illustration] i came and communed with that mighty king and told him all my heart, i cannot say in mortal ear what communings were they but wouldst thou know, so too, and meekly bring all that is in thine heart and thou shalt hear his voice of love and power his answers sweet and clear o happy end of every weary guest! he told me all i needed graciously:-- enough for guidance, and for victory o'er doubts and fears enough for quiet rest, and when some veiled response i could not read it was not hid from him, this was enough indeed [illustration] [illustration] his wisdom and his glories passed before my wondering eyes in gradual revelation the house that he had built its strong foundation its living stones and, brightening more and more for glimpses of that palace far away, where all his loyal ones shall dwell with him for aye. [illustration] true the report that reached my far-off land of all his wisdom and transcendent fame, yet i believed not until i came bowed to the dust till raised by royal hand the half was never told by mortal word, my king exceeded all the fame that i had heard oh happy are his servants! happy they who stand continually before his face, ready to do his will of wisest grace! my king! is mine such blessedness to-day? for i too hear thy wisdom line by line, thy ever brightening words in holy radiance shine [illustration] [illustration] oh, blessed be the lord they god who sat our king upon his throne divine delight in the beloved crowning thee with might honour and majesty supreme and yet the strange and godlike secret opening thus-- the kingship of his christ ordained through love to us! [illustration] what shall i render to my glorious king? i have but that which i receive from thee and what i give, thou givest back to me, transmuted by thy touch, each worthless thing changed to the preciousness of gem or gold, and by thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold [illustration] all my desire thou grantest whatsoer i ask! was ever mythic tale or dream so bold as this reality, this stream of boundless blessings flowing full and free? yet more than i have thought or asked of thee out of thy royal bounty still thou givest me. now--i will turn to my own land and tell, what i myself have seen and heard of thee, and give thine own sweet message, "come and see" and yet in heart and mind for ever dwell with thee, my king of peace, in loyal rest, within the fair pavilion of thy presence blest. j r havergal our king o saviour, precious saviour, whom yet unseen we love, o name of might and favour, all other names above! we worship thee, we bless thee to thee alone we sing we praise thee, and confess thee our holy lord and king in thee all fulness dwelleth, all grace and power divine, the glory that excelleth, o son of god, is thine! we worship thee, we bless thee to thee alone we sing, we praise thee and confess thee, our glorious lord and king [illustration] led in peace. "_ye shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace._" is. iv. . with joy thou shalt be girded, with peace thou shalt be led; and everlasting glory shall rest upon thy head; the hills break forth in singing; the shadows flee away: this is thy king and saviour-- he will not say thee "nay!" [illustration] his presence oh saviour if thy presence here can such bright joy impart what must it be in that sweet home where thou its glory art here through faith's vision small and fine one glimpse of thy dear face kindles a glow in lonely hearts, no cloud can e'er efface. cecilia havergal [illustration] springs of peace springs of peace, when conflict heightens thine uplifted eye shall see, peace that strengthens calms, and brightens, peace itself a victory. springs of comfort strangely springing through the bitter wells of woe, founts of hidden gladness, bringing joy that earth can ne'er bestow [illustration: ] the welcome to the king midst the darkness, storm, and sorrow one bright gleam i see, well i know the blessed morrow christ will come for me midst the light and peace and glory of the fathers home, christ for me is watching, waiting-- waiting till i come long the blessed guide has led me by the desert road; now i see the golden towers-- city of my god. there amidst the love and glory, he is waiting yet; on his hands a name is graven, he can ne'er forget. there amidst the songs of heaven-- sweeter to his ear is the footfall through the desert, ever drawing near. there, made ready are the mansions, glorious, bright and fair; but the bride the father gave him still is wanting there. who is this who comes to meet me on the desert way, as the morning star foretelling god's unclouded day? he it is who came to win me, on the cross of shame in his glory well i know him, evermore the same oh! the blessed joy of meeting, all the desert past! oh! the wondrous words of greeting he shall speak at last! he and i together entering those bright courts above, he and i together sharing all the fathers love. where no shade nor stain can enter nor the gold be dim, in that holiness unsullied i shall walk with him meet companion then for jesus, from him, for him made, glory of gods grace for ever there in me displayed [illustration] he who in his hour of sorrow bore the curse alone, i who through the lonely desert trod where he had gone he and i in that bright glory one deep joy shall share mine to be for ever with him his that i am there the king of love. the king of love my shepherd is whose goodness faileth never, i nothing lack if i am his and he is mine for ever. where streams of living waters flow, my ransomed soul he leadeth, and where the verdant pastures grow with food celestial feedeth [illustration] [illustration: ] god is love and god is light god is love, his mercy brightens all the path in which we rove, bliss he forms, and woe he lightens, god is light and god is love chance and change are busy ever, worlds decay and ages move, but his mercy waneth never god is light and god is love. thine eyes shall see the king thine eyes shall see! yes, thine, who, blind erewhile, now trembling towards the new-found light dost flee, leave doubting, and look up with trustful smile. thine eyes shall see! thine eyes shall see the king! the very same whose love shone forth upon the curseful tree, who bore thy guilt, who calleth thee by name thine eyes shall see! thine eyes shall see the king, the mighty one, the many crowned, the light-enrobed, and he shall bid thee share the kingdom he hath won thine eyes shall see! [illustration] [illustration] i am thine. jesus master! i am thine, keep me faithful keep me near, let thy presence in me shine all my homeward way to cheer, jesus! at thy feet i fall, oh, be thou my all in all [illustration] is it for me? is it for me, dear saviour thy glory and thy rest? for me, so weak and sinful oh, shall i thus be blessed? is it for me to see thee in all thy glorious grace and gaze in endless rapture on thy beloved face? behold thee in thy beauty, behold thee face to face, behold thee in thy glory and reap thy smile of grace and be with thee for ever, and never grieve thee more! dear saviour i must praise thee and lovingly adore. [illustration] going to christ i go to christ my saviour with every little need the help he always gives me is wonderful indeed i go when i am mourning the loss of loved ones near he speaketh words of comfort sweet, he doth my spirit cheer i go when i am fearing the cruse of oil will fail he sendeth me the needful means and thus doth prayer prevent cecilia havergal [illustration] my king and master. christ my king, my master, let my whole life be, spent in blessed service only until thee let me serve thee gladly, that the world may know 'tis a happy privilege, thee to serve below. let me serve thee humbly, thine be all the praise, 'tis thy love alone which tunes my feeble lays; let me serve thee quickly--time will soon be o'er i would fain lead many to heaven's peaceful shore. let me serve thee ever, from morning until eve, my earliest and my latest breath, my king, thou shall receive. and oh when service here is spent, and heaven is won grant that i too, dear master, may hear thy sweet "well done!" cevilia havergal under his shadow "under his shadow," with christ alone here, love he whispers in tenderest tone, treasures unfolding, riches of grace thus for life's battle my soul doth he brace. "under his shadow," a near page of life. opens before me, apart from the strife oh! will thou show me master and king how i may glory unto thee bring! "under his shadow" may life be passed daily and hourly on till the last, then no more shadows, all shall have fled when we awake like jesus our head. m a spiller [illustration] i sat down under his shadow with great delight. cant. ii g the spirit of st. francis de sales nihil obstat: + f. thos. bergh, o.s.b, censor deputatus imprimatur: e. canonicus surmont vicarius generalis westmonasterii die th maii the spirit of st. francis de sales by his friend jean pierre camus bishop of belley new and enlarged edition with a preface by his grace the archbishop of westminster. translated by j. s. contents preface by the archbishop of westminster sketch of jean pierre camus, bishop of belley the french publisher to the reader in upon perfect virtue blessed francis' estimate of various virtues upon the lesser virtues upon increase of faith upon temptations against faith upon the same subject upon confidence in god our misery appeals to god's mercy upon self distrust upon the justice and mercy of god on waiting upon god on the difference between a holy desire of reward and a mercenary spirit continuation of the same subject god should suffice for us all charity the short road to perfection upon what it is to love god truly upon the love of god in general all for love of god the same subject continued upon the love of god called love of benevolence disinterested love of god upon the character of a true christian upon not putting limits to our love of god upon the law and the just man upon desires how charity excels both faith and hope some thoughts of blessed francis on the passion upon the vanity of heathen philosophy upon the pure love of our neighbour upon bearing with one another upon fraternal correction upon finding excuses for the faults of our fellow-men upon not judging others upon judging ourselves upon slander and detraction upon hasty judgments upon ridiculing one's neighbour upon contradicting others upon loving our enemies upon forgiving our enemies upon the virtue of condescension how he adapted himself to times, places and circumstances upon the deference due to inferiors and dependents on the way to treat servants another instance of his gentleness with his servants his never refusing what was asked of him upon almsgiving his hopefulness in regard, to the conversion of sinners his solicitude for malefactors condemned to death upon the small number of the elect to love to be hated; and to hate to be loved upon obedience upon the obedience that may be practised by superiors an instance of his obedience upon the love of holy poverty upon the same subject upon poverty of spirit his love of the poor upon the christian view of poverty upon prosperity upon chastity and charity upon purity of heart upon chastity and humility upon modesty the contempt he felt for his body upon his humility upon humbleness in speech only upon various degrees of humility upon humiliation humility with regard to perfection upon excuses upon our good name upon despising the esteem of men upon the virtues we should practice when calumniated upon some spiritual maxims upon patience how to profit by bearing with insults upon bearing with importunities that he who complains sins his calmness in tribulations his test of patience in suffering upon long illnesses his holy indifference in illness upon the shape of the cross a diamond cross holy magdalen at the foot of the cross upon the power of gentleness and patience a rejoinder both striking and instructive his favourite beatitude his gravity and affability how he dealt with a criminal who despaired of salvation upon mortification upon the same subject upon fasting doubts solved as to soldiers fasting the golden mean in dispensations upon the words "eat of anything that is set before you" upon the state of perfection marks of progress in perfection upon the perfection aimed at in religious houses upon frugality his esteem of the virtue of simplicity his love of exactitude the test of religious vocation upon following the common life upon vocations upon prudence and simplicity the same subject continued upon mental prayer upon aspirations upon interior recollection and ejaculatory prayers upon doing and enduring upon mortification and prayer upon the presence of god his unity of spirit with god his gratitude to god for spiritual consolations upon the shedding of tears upon joy and sadness on the degrees of true devotion the test of true devotion what it means to be a servant of god that devotion does not always spring from charity upon perfect contentment in the privation of all content upon the will of god his resignation to the will of god that we must always submit ourselves to god's holy will his sublime thoughts on holy indifference nothing save sin happens to us but by the will of god upon the same subject upon abandoning ourselves to god upon interior desolation upon the presence in our souls of the grace of god upon our wish to save our soul upon good natural inclinations how to speak of god upon eccentricities in devotion upon confraternities upon intercourse with the world against over-eagerness upon the same subject upon liberty of spirit upon nature and grace upon exaggerated introspection upon interior reformation his vision of the most holy trinity his devotion to our blessed lady his devotion to the holy winding sheet of turin upon merit upon good will and good desires against the making of rash vows upon the pro-passions of our lord his victory over the passions of love and anger upon our passions and emotions how he came to write his philothea upon the example of the saints upon the love of god's word his love of retirement how he sanctified his recreations what he drew from lines of poetry upon being content with our condition in life upon self-sufficiency and contentedness his reverence for the sick upon the care of the sick upon speaking well of the dead upon death upon wishing to die upon the desire of heaven what it is to die in god upon length of life upon purgatory upon penance upon penitent confusion upon interior peace amidst anxieties upon discouragement upon rising after a fall upon kindliness towards ourselves upon imperfections the just man falls seven times in the day upon the purgative way upon venial sin upon complicity in the sins of another upon equivocating upon solitude upon vanity upon the knowledge which puffs up upon scruples upon temptations upon the same subject thoughts on the incarnation upon confession and communion upon confession upon a change of confessor upon different methods of direction advice upon having a director upon true and mistaken zeal upon the institution of the visitation order his defence of his new congregation of the visitation upon the odour of sanctity he rebukes pharisaism upon religious superiors upon unlearned superiors upon the founding of convents upon receiving the infirm into communities upon self pity upon the government of nuns by religious men that we must not be wedded to our own plans his views regarding ecclesiastical dignities his promotion to the bishopric of geneva and his refusal of the archbishopric of paris a bishop's care for his flock upon the first duty of bishops upon the pastoral charge upon the care of souls upon learning and piety advice to bishop camus as to resigning his see the joyous spirit of blessed francis upon daily mass. his advice to a young priest a priest saying mass should be considerate of others blessed francis encourages the bishop of belley upon a compassionate mind upon doing one's duty without respect of persons the honour due to virtue upon memory and judgment a priest should not aim at imitating in his sermons some particular preacher upon short sermons upon preaching and preachers blessed francis and the bishop of belley's sermon upon controversy the same subject continued upon reason and reasoning upon quoting holy scripture upon political diplomacy upon ambition upon courts and courtiers upon the carnival an instance of his compassion for animals upon hunting upon the fear of ghosts his portrait upon his true charity preface. the spirit of a saint we may, perhaps, regard as the underlying characteristic which pervades all his thoughts, words, and acts. it is the note which sounds throughout the constant persevering harmony which makes the holiness of his life. circumstances change. he grows from childhood to boyhood; from youth to manhood. his time of preparation is unnoticed by the world until the moment comes when he is called to a public activity which arrests attention. and essentially he remains the same. in private as in public, in intimate conversation as in writings or discourses, in the direction of individual consciences as in the conduct of matters of wide importance, there is a characteristic note which identifies him, and marks him off apart even from other heroes of sanctity. we owe to a keen and close observer a knowledge of the spirit of st. francis de sales for which we cannot be too grateful. let it be granted that mgr. camus had a very prolific imagination; that he had an unconscious tendency to embroider facts; that he read a meaning into words which their speaker had no thought of imparting to them. when all such allowances have been made, we must still admit that he has given to us a picture of the saint which we should be loath to lose; and that his description of what the saint habitually thought and felt has made saint francis de sales a close personal friend to many to whom otherwise he would have remained a mere chance acquaintance. the bishop of belley, while a devoted admirer, was at the same time a critical observer of his saintly friend. he wanted to know the reasons of what he saw, he did not always approve, and he was sufficiently indiscreet to put questions which, probably, no one else would have dared to frame. and thus we know more about st. francis than about any other saint, and we owe real gratitude to his very candid, talkative, and out-spoken episcopal colleague. many years ago a brief abridgment of the "spirit of st. francis de sales" was published in english. it served its purpose, but left unsatisfied the desire of his clients for a fuller work. to-day the sisters of the visitation, now established at harrow-on-the-hill, give abundant satisfaction to this long-felt desire. inspired by the purpose of the late dom benedict mackey, o.s.b., which his premature death prevented him from accomplishing, and guided by the advice which he left in writing, these daughters of st. francis of sales, on the occasion of their tercentenary, give to the english-speaking world a work which, in its wise curtailment and still full detail, may be called the quintessence of the spirit of their master, the founder of their institute. we thank them for their labour; and we beg god's blessing upon this book, that it may be the means of showing to many souls that safe and easy way of sanctification and salvation, which it was the special mission of the saintly bishop of geneva to make known to the world. francis, archbishop of westminster. may th, . sketch of the life of jean pierre camus, bishop of belley. jean pierre camus came of an illustrious, and much respected family of auxonne in burgundy, in which province it possessed the seigneuries of _saint bonnet_ and _pont-carré_. he was born in paris, november rd, . his grandfather was for some years administrator of the finances under king henri iii. though he had had the management of the public funds during a period when fraud and dishonesty were as easy as they were common, he retired from office without having added a single penny to his patrimony. on one occasion having received from henri iii. the gift of a sum of , crowns, which had been left by a jew who had died intestate, and without children, this upright administrator sent for three merchants who had lost all their property in a fire, and distributed it among them. the father of our prelate, inheriting this integrity, left an honourable name, but few worldly goods to his children. faithful, and devoted to the interests of his king, henri iv., he gave part of his fortune to the support of the good cause, the triumph of which he had the happiness of witnessing. he died in . the mantle of paternal loyalty and patriotism undoubtedly descended upon the young j. p. camus, for second only to his love for god, and his church, was his devotion to france, and its king. on his mother's side, as well as on his father's, he was well connected. her family had given to france chancellors, secretaries of state, and other distinguished personages, but noble as were the races from which he sprang their chief distinction is derived from the subject of this sketch. "this one branch," says his panegyrist, "bore more blossoms and more fruit than all the others together. in john peter the gentle rivulet of the camus' became a mighty stream, yet one whose course was peaceful, and which loved to flow underground, as do certain rivers which seem to lose themselves in the earth, and only emerge to precipitate themselves into the waters of the ocean." books and objects of piety were the toys of his childhood, and his youth was passed in solitude, and in the practices of the ascetic life. his physical strength as it increased with his years, seemed only to serve to assist him in curbing and restraining a somewhat fiery temperament. his wish, which at one time was very strong, to become a carthusian, was not indeed fulfilled, it being evident from the many impediments put in its way, that it was not a call from god. nevertheless, this desire of self-sacrifice in a cloistered life was only thwarted in order that he might sacrifice himself in another way, namely, by becoming a bishop, which state, if its functions are rightly discharged, assuredly demands greater self-immolation than does that of a monk, and is indeed a martyrdom that ceases only with life itself. if he did not submit himself to the rule of the carthusians by entering their order, he nevertheless adopted all its severity, and to the very end of his life kept his body in the most stern and rigorous subjection. this, and his early inclination towards the religious life, will not a little astonish his detractors, if any such still exist, for it is surely a convincing proof that he was not the radical enemy of monasticism they pretend. in his studies he displayed great brilliancy, being especially distinguished in theology and canon law, to the study of which he consecrated four years of his life. after he had become a priest his learning, piety, and eloquence not only established his reputation as a preacher in the pulpits of paris, but soon even crossed the threshold of the louvre and reached the ears of henry iv. that monarch, moved by the hope of the great services which a prelate might render to the church even more than by the affection which he bore to the camus family, decided to propose him for a bishopric, although he was but twenty-five, and had not therefore reached the canonical age for that dignity. the young priest was far too humble and also too deeply imbued with a sense of the awful responsibility of the office of a bishop to expect, or to desire to be raised to it. when, however, pope paul v. gave the necessary dispensation, m. camus submitted to the will both of the pontiff and of the king, and was consecrated bishop of belley by st. francis de sales, august , . the fact that the two dioceses of geneva and belley touched one another contributed to further that close intimacy which was always maintained between the bishops, the younger consulting the elder on all possible occasions, and in all imaginable difficulties. bishop camus had already referred his scruples regarding his youth at the time of his consecration to his holy director. the latter had, however, reminded him of the many reasons there were to justify his submission, viz., the needs of the diocese, the testimony to his fitness given by so many persons of distinction and piety, the judgment of henry the great, in fine the command of his holiness. in consecrating mgr. camus, st. francis de sales seems to have transmitted to the new prelate some of the treasures of his own holy soul. camus was the only bishop whom he ever consecrated, and doubtless this fact increased the tender affection which francis bore him. john peter was, what he loved to call himself, and what st. francis loved to call him, the latter's only son. there was between the two holy prelates a community of intelligence and of life. "camus," says godeau, the preacher of his funeral discourse, "ever sat at the feet of st. francis de sales, whom he called his gamaliel, there to learn from him the law of god: full as he himself was of the knowledge of divine things." we must bear this in mind if we wish to know what camus really was, and to appreciate him properly. he was by nature ardent, impetuous, and imaginative, eager for truth and goodness, secretly devoted to the austere practices of st. charles borromeo, but above all fervently desirous to imitate his model, his beloved spiritual father, and therefore anxious to subdue, and to temper all that was too impetuous, excitable, and hard in himself, by striving after the incomparable sweetness and tenderness which were the distinguishing characteristics of st. francis de sales. mgr. camus was endowed with a most marvellous memory, which was indeed invaluable to him in the great work to which both bishops devoted themselves, that of bringing back into the bosom of the church those who had become strangers, and even enemies to her. his chief defect was that he was over hasty in judging, and of this he was himself perfectly well aware. he tells us in the "esprit" that on one occasion when he was bewailing his deficiency to francis, the good prelate only smiled, and told him to take courage, for that as time went on it would bring him plenty of judgment, that being one of the fruits of experience, and of advancing years. whenever mgr. camus visited the bishop of geneva, which he did each year in order to make a retreat of several days under the direction of his spiritual father, he was treated with the greatest honour by him. st. francis de sales gave up his own room to his guest, and made him preach, and discharge other episcopal functions, so as to exercise him in his own presence in these duties of his sublime ministry. this was the school in which camus learnt to control and master himself, to curb his natural impetuosity, and to subjugate his own will, and thus to acquire one, in our opinion, of the most certain marks of saintliness. the bishop of geneva was not contented with receiving his only son at annecy. he often went over to belley, and spent several days there in his company. these visits were to both prelates a time of the greatest consolation. then they spoke, as it were, heart to heart, of all that they valued most. then they encouraged one another to bear the burden of the episcopate. then they consoled each other in the troubles which they met with in their sacred ministry. it never cost the younger bishop anything to yield obedience to the elder, and no matter how great, or how trifling was the occasion which called for the exercise of that virtue, there was never a moment's hesitation on the part of the bishop of belley. the latter, indeed, considered the virtue of obedience as the one most calculated to ensure rapid advance in the spiritual life. he tells us that one day at table someone having boasted that he could make an egg stand upright on a plate, a thing which those present, forgetting christopher columbus, insisted was impossible, the saint, as columbus had done, quietly taking one up chipped it a little at one end, and so made it stand. the company all cried out that there was nothing very great in that trick. "no," repeated the saint, "but all the same you did not know it." we may say the same, adds camus, of obedience: it is the true secret of perfection, and yet few people know it to be so. from what we have already seen of the character of john peter camus, we may imagine that gentleness was the most difficult for him to copy of the virtues of st. francis de sales; yet steel, though much stronger than iron, is at the same time far more readily tempered. thus, in his dealings with his neighbour he behaved exactly like his model, so much so, that for anyone who wanted to gain his favour the best plan was to offend him or do him some injury. i have spoken of his love of mortification, and a short extract from the funeral discourse pronounced over his remains will show to what extent he practised it. godeau says: "our virtuous bishop up to the very last years of his life, slept either on a bed of vine shoots, or on boards, or on straw. this custom he only abandoned in obedience to his director, and in doing so i consider that he accomplished what was far more difficult and painful than the mortifications which he had planned for himself, since the sacrifice of our own will in these matters is incomparably more disagreeable to us than the practising of them." this austerity in respect to sleep, of which, indeed, he required more than others on account of his excitable temperament, did not suffice to satisfy his love for penance, without which, he said, the leading of a christian and much more of an episcopal life was impossible. to bring his body into subjection he constantly made use of hair-shirts, iron belts, vigils, fasting, and the discipline, and it was not until his last illness that he gave up those practices of austerity. he concealed them, however, as carefully as though he had been ashamed of them, knowing well that such sacrifices if not offered in secret, partake more of the spirit of pharisaism than of the gospel. this humility, notwithstanding, he was unable to guard against the pardonable curiosity of his servants. one of them, quite a young man, who was his personal attendant during the first years of his residence at belley, observing that he wore round his neck the key of a large cupboard, and being very anxious to know what it contained, managed in some way to possess himself of this key for a few moments, when his master had laid it aside, and was not in the room. unlocking the cupboard he found it full of the vine shoots on which he was accustomed to sleep. the bed which everyone saw in his apartment was the bishop's; the one which he hid away was the penitent's. the one was for appearance, the other for piety. he used to put into disorder the coverings of the bed, so as to give the impression of having slept in it, while he really slept, or at least took such repose as was necessary to keep him alive, on the penitential laths he had hidden. having discovered that through his valet the rumour of his austerity had got abroad, he dismissed the young man from his service, giving him a handsome present, and warning him to be less curious in future. but for his failing, however, we should have lost a great example of the bishop's mortification and humility. the latter virtue john peter camus cultivated most carefully, and how well he succeeded in this matter is proved by the composure, and even gaiety and joyousness, with which he met the raillery heaped upon his sermons, and writings. camus, like the holy bishop of geneva, had throughout his life a special devotion to the blessed virgin, and never failed in his daily recital of the rosary. every evening it was his habit to read a portion of either _the spiritual combat_, or the _imitation of jesus christ_; two books which he recommended to his penitents as next in usefulness to the gospels. following him in his episcopal career we find that as the years rolled on his reputation passed beyond the confines of france, and reached the vatican. pope paul v., who knew him intimately, held him in high esteem, and all the cardinals honoured him with their friendship. had it not been for his own firm resistance to every proposal made to him to quit his poor diocese of belley, mgr. camus would assuredly have been transferred to some much more important see. and here we may again quote the words of his panegyrist, to indicate the fruits produced by his zeal in the little corner of the vineyard of the divine master, which had been confided to his skilful hands. godeau says, "the interior sanctity which he strove to acquire for himself by prayer, by reading holy books, by the mortification of his senses, by the putting aside of all secular affairs when engaged in prayer, by humility, patience, and charity, were the inexhaustible source whence flowed all his external works, and whence they derived all their purity and vigour." as regarded the poor and needy in his diocese, mgr. camus was no less generous in ministering to their temporal than to their spiritual wants. he looked upon himself as simply a steward of the goods of the church. he, indeed, drew the revenues of his diocese, but only as rivers draw their waters from the sea, to pay them back again to it with usury. more than once in years of famine he gave all his corn to the poor, not as joseph did in egypt by depriving them of their liberty, but by depriving himself of what was necessary for his support, and treating himself no better than the rest of the poor. one day he was told that the dearness of wine was the cause of great distress among working people. he immediately gave orders that his own wine should be sold, but after a most curious and unusual fashion. he would not have any fixed price set upon it, but only desired that an open bag should be held, at the door of the cellar so that purchasers might throw in what they pleased. you may be sure that the bag was not very full and that the buyers availed themselves to the utmost of his liberality. what, however, do you think he did with the small amount of money which he found in the bag? even that he forthwith distributed among the poor! surely if anything can approach the miraculous transformation of water into wine it is bishop camus' mode of selling it! after having established in his diocese that order and peace which are the fruits of the knowledge and observance of the duties of religion, and having formed a body of clergy remarkable for their piety and learning, mgr. camus thought he ought to advance even a step further. he felt that it was his duty to have in his episcopal city a community of religious men who by their example should assist both clergy and laity in their spiritual life. he did this by building, at his own expense, in , a capuchin monastery. for a long time he supplied these friars with all that they needed, and finally gave them his own library, which was both choice and extensive. he was equally cordial in his relationship with other orders, welcoming them gladly to his own house, and often making retreats in their monasteries. camus was too intimately connected with francis de sales not to have with him a community of spirit. knowing how useful the newly-formed order of the visitation would be to the church, he also founded at belley, in , a convent, to which he invited some nuns of the new congregation. this institution of the holy bishop of geneva was vigorously attacked from its very beginning. it was called in derision, _the confraternity of the descent from the cross_, because its pious founder had excluded from this order corporal austerities, and had adapted all his rules to the reforming of the interior. the bishop of belley declared himself champion of this new institution. indeed, his ardent soul was always on fire to proclaim and to maintain the glory of the church. at whatever point she was attacked or threatened there camus was to be found armed _cap-a-pie_ to defend her. as for his own temporal interests, they were to him matters of absolute indifference when weighed in the balance of that beloved church. his own words, however, speak best on this subject. on one occasion, when a minister of state wrote to ask him something contrary to those interests, backing up his request with the most liberal promises, the bishop of belley, after courteously excusing himself from complying with the request, wound up his answer to the statesman with these remarkable words: _this is all that can be said to you by a bishop who, as regards the past, is under no obligation to anyone; as regards the present without interest; and as regards the future has no pretentions whatever._ we have said that the bishop of belley was indefatigable in labouring for the sanctification of his people, but this did not in any way prevent him from bestowing due care upon the interests of his own soul. with this object in view he considered that after long years of toil for his flock he ought to retire from the world, so as to have more time to devote to himself. to live in solitude had been the desire of his youth, as we know it was ever his desire through all the period of his episcopate; but his spiritual guide, the holy bishop of geneva, always succeeded in dissuading him from laying down the pastoral staff to take refuge in the cloister. however, after the death of his illustrious friend and counsellor, this desire returned to camus with redoubled force. for seven years, out of respect for the advice of his dear dead friend, he abstained from carrying out his purpose, and during that time of waiting, relaxing nothing in the ardour of his love for his people and his zeal for the church, he devoted himself to the work of repairing and restoring his cathedral, which was accomplished in the year . when in this ancient edifice was pulled down in order to be rebuilt, an inscription was discovered stating this fact, which is not otherwise mentioned in any extant writings, probably because those in which it was recorded were among the rich archives of the chapter destroyed by the fury of the vandals of . at last, in , camus finally decided to give up his episcopal charge to one who was indeed worthy of such a dignity. this was jean de passelaigne, abbot of notre dame de hambic, prior of st. victor of nevers, and of la charité-sur-loire, vicar-general of the order of cluny. then, having obtained the king's consent, camus retired from the diocese of belley, which he had ruled so happily and so well for twenty years, to the cistercian abbey of annay, there to exercise in the calm of solitude all those virtues to the practice of which he said the stir and bustle inseparable from the episcopal functions had not allowed him to devote himself. this he did, it would seem, towards the end of , or the beginning of . the abbey of annay, which the king gave to him on receiving his resignation of the see of belley, was situated in normandy, near caen. there camus dwelt for some time, not, however, leading an idle life, for we find that a great many of his works were printed at caen. he also succeeded in introducing into this religious house, and into the neighbouring one of ardaine, that reform which it was the desire of his heart to bring back to all the monasteries of france. it was while in normandy that he made the acquaintance of père eudes, and between these two holy priests the closest friendship sprang up, founded on a mutual zeal for the salvation of souls. the bishop of belley was not long allowed to enjoy his quiet retreat at annay. françois de harlay, archbishop of rouen, being unable at that time, owing to ill health, to exercise his duties as a bishop, felt convinced that providence had sent mgr. camus into his diocese on purpose that he might share his labours. his earnest entreaties prevailed upon the good bishop to emerge from his retreat and help to bear the burden which pressed so heavily upon a sick and failing prelate. at belley he had been accountable to god alone for the discharge of those duties which he had for a time laid aside; now at the call of charity he did not hesitate to take up the burden again to ease another. he was appointed vicar-general to the archbishop of rouen, renouncing, like st. paul, his liberty in order to become the servant of all men, and thus gain more souls to jesus christ. although in this new sphere camus laboured with the utmost devotion and untiring energy, living a life of ascetic severity, fasting, sleeping on straw, or spending whole nights in prayer, while his days were given to preaching, confirming, hearing confessions, visiting the sick, consoling the afflicted, advising, exhorting, patiently listening to the crowds who flocked to consult him, yet he still felt certain that the voice of god called him to solitude and to a perpetual retreat. desiring to spend the rest of his days among the poor whom he loved so well, he came to paris, and took up his abode in the hospital for incurables, situated in the rue de sèvres. he reserved for himself out of his patrimony and benefices only livres, which he paid to the hospital for his board and lodging, distributing the remainder among the needy. in this hospital he passed his time in ministering to the sick, dressing their wounds, consoling, and instructing them, and performing for them all the functions of an ordinary chaplain. even if he went out to visit friends in the vicinity of paris, he never returned later than five o'clock in the evening. occasionally he preached in the chapel of the duke of orleans before his royal highness, and at such times denounced vehemently the luxury and indolence of princes and courtiers. there was at this time a diocese in a no less pitiable condition than was belley when mgr. camus was, at the king's desire, placed in charge of it. this diocese was that of arras, and on the th of may, , he was appointed by louis xiv., acting under the advice of the queen-regent, to administer all the affairs of the diocese until such time as a new bishop should be nominated to the vacant see by his majesty and our holy father the pope. into this laborious task of sowing, ploughing, cultivating a vast weed-grown, and unpromising field, camus threw himself with all his old ardour and energy. he did so much in a very short time that his name will long be remembered among the descendants of those from whom the troubles of the times snatched him so suddenly, but not before he had bound them to france while leading them to god by bands of love stronger than citadels or garrisons. political disturbances and the calamities of war having prevented this indefatigable servant of god from carrying on his work at arras, he withdrew again in the following year to the hospital of the incurables at paris, there to await better times, and also doubtless the expected bull from the sovereign pontiff. however, the great rewarder called camus to himself before the pope had sanctioned his appointment to the bishopric of arras. but ere we close this slight sketch of the life of the good bishop, and speak of its last scenes, we must say a word about the gigantic literary labours which occupied him more or less from the time of his retirement to the abbey of annay, in , till his death, in . it was his great love for the church which made him take pen in hand. varied as were the subjects on which he wrote, his writings, whether controversial, dogmatic, devotional or even light and entertaining, had but one single aim and end--the instruction of mankind and the glorification of catholicism. if we bear this in mind we shall be ready to forgive the bitterness and harshness which we may admit characterised many of his writings. to reform the monasteries of france, and to deal a death blow to the abuses which had crept into some of them, was the passionate desire of his heart. this, and not a personal hatred of monks, as his enemies have averred, was the moving spring of his actions in this crusade of the pen. at the same time we do not deny that his natural impetuosity and keen sense of humour made him too often, in accordance with the bad taste of the day, present the abuses which he wished to reform, in so ridiculous and contemptible a light, as to provoke and irritate his enemies, perhaps unnecessarily. yet, if in this he showed the lack of judgment which he had years before lamented in himself, can anyone who knows what those times were, and who is as jealous for the honour of god as he was, blame him? there was another evil of the day which the good bishop witnessed with grief and indignation, and set himself zealously to reform. this was the publishing of romances, or novels, which, as then written, could only poison the minds of their readers, inflame their passions, and weaken their sense of right and wrong. he pondered the matter, and having made up his mind that it would be absolutely useless to endeavour to hinder their being read, as this would only increase the obstinacy and perversity of those who took pleasure in them, he decided on adopting another method altogether, as he himself said, he "tried to make these poor diseased folk, with their depraved taste and morbid cravings, swallow his medicine under the disguise of sweetmeats." that is to say, he himself began to write novels and romances for them; romances which, indeed, depicted the profligacy of the age, but in such odious colours as to inspire aversion and contempt. vice, if described, was held up to ridicule and loathing. the interest of the story was so well kept up as to carry the reader on to the end, and that end often showed the hero or heroine so entirely disabused of the world's enchantment as to retire voluntarily into convents, in order, by an absolute devotion of the heart to god, to repair the injury done to him, by giving to the creature the love due to him alone. these books passed from hand to hand in the gay world, were read, were enjoyed, and the fruit gathered from them by the reader was the conviction that god being himself the sovereign god, all other love but that of which he is the object and the end, is as contrary to the happiness of man as it is opposed to all the rules of justice. let us hear what camus himself says as to his motive and conduct in the matter of novel writing.[ ] "the enterprise on which i have embarked of wrestling with, or rather contending against those idle or dangerous books, which cloak themselves under the title of novels, would surely demand the hands of briareus to wield as many pens, and the strength of hercules to support such a burden! but what cannot courage, zeal, charity, and confidence in god accomplish?" he goes on to say that though he sees all the difficulties ahead, his courage will not fail, for he holds his commission from a saint, the holy bishop of geneva, in whose intercessions, and in the assistance of the god of saints, he trusts, and is confident of victory. he tells us in several of his works, and especially in his "unknown traveller," that it was st. francis de sales who first advised him to use his pen in this manner, and that for twenty-five years the saint had been cogitating and developing this design in his brain. in the same little pamphlet camus points out the methods he followed as a novel writer. "it consists," he says, "in saying only good things, dealing only with good subjects, the single aim of which is to deter from vice, and to lead on to virtue." he was an extraordinarily prolific and rapid writer, scarcely ever correcting or polishing up anything that he had put on paper. this was a defect, but it was the natural outcome of his temperament, which was a curious combination of lightness and solidity, gaiety and severity. few people really understood him. he was often taken for a mere man of the world, when in truth he was one of the stoutest champions of the church, and in his inner life, grave and ascetic, macerating his flesh like a monk of the desert. he wrote in all about volumes, of these being romances. in the latter, which drew down upon him such storms of bitter invective, owing to his freedom of language in treating of the vices against which he was warning his readers, we do not pretend to admire his work, but must remind readers that his style was that of the age in which he lived, and that camus was essentially a parisian. we have said that he wrote at least fifty novels; we may add that each was cleverer than that which had preceded it. forgotten now, they were at the time of their appearance eagerly devoured, and it is morally impossible but that some good should have resulted from their production. and now old age came upon the busy writer--old age, but not the feebleness of old age, nor its privileged inaction. as he advanced in years he seemed to increase in zeal and diligence, and it was not till suddenly stricken down by a mortal malady that his labours ceased. then on his death-bed in a quiet corner of the hospital for incurables in humility, patience, and a marvellous silence, only opening his lips to speak at the desire of his confessor, calm and peaceful, his eyes fixed upon the crucifix which he held in his hands, jean pierre camus gave up his soul to god. this was on the th of april, . he was years old. he had in his will forbidden any pomp or display at his funeral, and his wishes were strictly obeyed. some time after his death a stone was placed by the administrators of the hospital over the tomb of the good bishop, who had been so great a benefactor to that institution, and who rests beneath the nave of its church in the rue de sèvres. when he felt the first approach of illness, about six weeks before his death, he made his will, in which he left the greater part of his money to the hospital, founding in it four beds for the incurables of belley. and now our work is done.... the object has been to make john peter camus known as he really was, and to cleanse his memory from the stains cast upon it by the jarring passions of his contemporaries. if we have succeeded in this the reader will recognise in him a pious bishop, armed with the scourge of penance, an indefatigable writer in the defence of good morals, of religion, and of the church--a reformer, and not an enemy of the monastic orders; finally a prelate, who laboured all his life to copy the holy bishop of geneva, whom he ever regarded as his father, his guide, and his oracle. one word more. those pious persons who wish to know better this true disciple of the bishop of geneva have nothing to do but to read the _spirit of saint francis de sales_. there they will see the bishop of belley as he really was. there they can admire his ardent piety, the candour of his soul, the fervour of his faith and charity; in a word, all that rich store of virtues which he acquired in the school of that great master of the spiritual life who was for fourteen years his director. [footnote : in the preface of his book, entitled "strange occurrences."] the french publisher to the reader, . since the holy death of blessed francis de sales, prince and bishop of geneva, which took place on december th, the feast of the holy innocents, in the year , many writers have taken up the pen to give the public the knowledge of the pious life and virtuous conversation of that holy prelate, whom some have very fitly called the st. charles of france. the writer, however, with whom we are most concerned is monseigneur jean pierre camus, bishop of belley, whose work we are now introducing to our readers. after the death of blessed francis this faithful friend and devoted disciple was entreated, urged, conjured, in season and out of season, by an infinity of persons, to employ the literary faculty given to him by god in communicating to the world the many rare things which he had had the opportunity of observing in the life and conversation of blessed francis, under whose direction and discipline he had been for fourteen years. m. camus constantly excused himself under the plea that many had already taken the work in hand, and that he did not care to put his sickle into another man's crop, nor to make books by simply transcribing those of others, as is done by many writers of our day. at last, however, he allowed himself to be persuaded by some members of the order of the visitation, founded by the holy bishop, to write the life, or, more properly speaking, to delineate the spirit of his beloved master. having promised to do this, he considered that he had, at least partially, fulfilled his promise by publishing some pious treatises conformable to the spirit of the holy prelate. it was, however, afterwards thought better to gather up, and, as it were, glean from m. camus' own sermons, exhortations, conferences, conversations, books, and letters, that spirit of blessed francis which he had imbibed, in common with all the holy bishop's disciples and spiritual children. to make this collection was not difficult, because there was scarcely a sermon, conference, or spiritual lesson given by him in which he did not say something about the saint, so deeply imbued was he with his instructions. one of the most intimate and familiar friends of the bishop of belley, having given his attention to the matter, now lays before you as the result, this book to which he has given the title: _the spirit of blessed francis de sales, represented in his most remarkable words and actions._ this holy bishop was mighty in works and in words; he was not one of those who say much that is good but who do not practise it. to say and to do was with him the same thing, or rather, his doing surpassed his saying.... in this collection offered to you, there is but little formal arrangement, the component parts were gathered up as they fell from the lips or the pen of monseigneur camus. it is a piece of mosaic work, a bouquet of various flowers, a salad of divers herbs, a banquet of many dishes, an orchard of different fruits, where each one can take what best suits his taste. _note.--in this translation an endeavour has been made to group together the sections treating of the same subject. these are scattered, without order, through the three volumes of the french edition._ the spirit of st. francis de sales upon perfect virtue. blessed francis de sales thought very little of any virtue unless it was animated by charity; following in this the teaching of st. paul, who declares that without charity the greatest virtues are as nothing. thus, even the faith which works miracles, the almsgiving which leads a man to sell all his goods to feed the poor, the spirit of martyrdom which impels him to give his body to be burned, all, if without charity, are nothing.[ ] that you may clearly understand the distinction which he drew between the natural excellence of certain virtues, and the supernatural perfection which they acquire by the infusion of charity, i will give you his exact words on the subject, as they are to be found in his treatise on the love of god. he says: "the light of the sun falls equally on the violet and the rose, yet will never render the former as fair as the latter, or make a daisy as lovely as a lily. if, however, the sun should shine very clearly upon the violet, and very mistily and faintly upon the rose, then without doubt it would make the violet more fair to see than the rose. so, theotimus, if with equal charity one should suffer death by martyrdom, and another suffer only hunger by fasting, who does not see that the value of this fasting will not, on that account, be equal to that of martyrdom? no, for who would dare to affirm that martrydom is not more excellent in itself than fasting.... still, it is true that if love be ardent, powerful, and excellent, in a heart, it will also more enrich and perfect all the virtuous works which may proceed from it. one may suffer death and fire for god, without charity, as st. paul supposes[ ], and as i explain elsewhere. still more then may one suffer them with little charity. now, i say, theotimus, that it may come to pass that a very small virtue may be of greater value in a soul where divine love fervently reigns, than martyrdom itself in a soul where love is languishing, feeble, and dull. thus, the least virtues of our blessed lady of st. john, and of other great saints, were of more worth before god than the most exalted perfections of the rest of his servants."[ ] [footnote : cor. xiii. - .] [footnote : cor. xiii. .] [footnote : bk. xi. chap. v.] blessed francis' estimate of various virtues. °. he preferred those virtues the practice of which is comparatively frequent, common, and ordinary, to others which we may be called upon to exercise on rare occasions. °. he considered, as we have seen, that the degree of the supernatural in any virtue could not be decided by the greatness or smallness of the external act, since an act in itself altogether trivial, may be performed with much grace and charity, while a very brilliant and dazzling good work may be animated by but a very feeble spark of love of god, the intensity of which is, after all, the only rule by which to ascertain its true value in his sight. °. the more universal a virtue, the more, he said, it is to be preferred before all others, charity only excepted. for instance, he valued prayer as the light which illumines all other virtues; devotion, as consecrating all our actions to god; humility, which makes us set but little value on ourselves and on our doings; meekness, which yields to all; patience, which includes everything besides. he valued these, i say, more than magnanimity, or liberality, because such virtues can be more rarely practised and they affect fewer subjects. °. he was always on his guard against showy virtues, which of their very nature encourage vainglory, the bane of all good works. °. he blamed those who measure virtues by the standard set up by the world, who prefer temporal to spiritual alms; haircloth, fasting, and corporal austerities to sweetness, modesty, and the mortification of the heart; virtues by far the more excellent. °. he greatly condemned those who select the virtues most agreeable to their taste, and practise these alone, quite regardless of those which are specially adapted to their state of life. these people, indeed, serve god, but after a way of their own, not according to his will: a by no means uncommon mistake, which leads many, otherwise devout-minded, far out of the right path. upon the lesser virtues. he had a special affection for certain virtues which are passed over by some as trivial and insignificant. "everyone," he used to say, "is eager to possess those brilliant, almost dazzling virtues which cluster round the summit of the cross, so that they can be seen from afar and admired, but very few are anxious to gather those which, like wild thyme, grow at the foot of that tree of life and under its shade. yet these are often the most hardy, and give out the sweetest perfume, being watered with the precious blood of the saviour, whose first lesson to his disciples was: _learn of me because i am meek and humble of heart._"[ ] it does not belong to every one to practise the sublime virtues of fortitude, magnanimity, endurance unto death, patience, constancy, and courage. the occasions of exercising these are rare, yet all aspire to them because they are brilliant and their names high sounding. very often, too, people fancy that they are able, even now, to practise them. they inflate their courage with the vain opinion they have of themselves, but when put to the trial fail pitiably. they are like those children of ephrem, who distinguished themselves wonderfully by, in the time of peace, hitting the target with every arrow, but in the battle were the first to fly before the enemy. better had their skill been less and their courage greater. opportunities of acquiring offices, benefices, inheritances, large sums of money, are not to be met with every day, but at any moment we may earn farthings and halfpence. by trading well on these small profits, many have in course of time grown rich. we should become spiritually wealthy and lay up for ourselves much treasure in heaven did we employ in the service of the holy love of god, the small opportunities which are to be met with at every hour of our lives. it is not enough to practise great virtues; they must be practised with great charity, for that it is which in the sight of god forms the basis of and gives weight and value to all good works. an act of lesser virtue (for all virtues are not of equal importance) done out of great love to god is far more excellent than a rarer and grander one done with less love. "look at this good soul, she gives a cup of cold water to the thirsty with such holy love that it is changed into the water of life, life eternal. the gospel which makes light of the weightiest sums cast into the treasury, reckons of the highest value two mites offered out of a great and fervent love."[ ] "these little homely virtues! how seldom is mention made of them! how lightly they are esteemed! kindly concessions to the exacting temper of our neighbour, gentle tolerance of his imperfections, loving endurance of cross looks, peevish gestures, cheerfulness under contempt and small injustices, endurance of affronts, patience with importunity, doing menial actions which our social position impels us to regard as beneath us; replying amiably to some one who has given us an undeserved and sharp reproof, falling down and then bearing good humouredly the being laughed at, accepting with gentleness the refusal of a kindness, receiving a favour graciously, humbling ourselves before our equals and inferiors, keeping on kindly and considerate terms with our servants. how trivial and poor all this appears to those who have their hearts lifted up with proud aspirations. we want, they seem to say, no virtues but such as go clad in purple, and to be borne by fair winds and spreading sails towards high reputation. they forget that those who please men are not the servants of god, and that the friendship of the world and its applause are worth nothing and less than nothing in his sight."[ ] [footnote : matt. xi. .] [footnote : cf. _treatise on the love of god_. bk. iii. c. ii.] [footnote : cf. _the devout life_. part iii. c, i., ii., and vi.] upon increase of faith. _lord, i believe, help my unbelief!_ lord, increase the faith in us! and how is this increase of faith to be brought about? in the same way, assuredly, as the strength of the palm tree grows with the load it has to bear, or as the vine profits by being pruned. a stoic philosopher remarked very truly that virtue languishes when it has nothing to overcome. what does a man know until he is tempted? our blessed father[ ] when visiting the bailiwick of gex, which adjoins the city of geneva, in order to re-establish the catholic religion in some parishes, declared that his faith gained new vigour through his intercourse with the heretics of those parts, who were sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death. he expresses his feelings on this subject in one of his letters: "alas! in this place i see poor wandering sheep all around me; i approach them and marvel at their evident and palpable blindness. o my god! the beauty of our holy faith then appears by comparison so entrancing that i would die for love of it, and i feel that i ought to lock up the precious gift which god has given me in the innermost recesses of a heart all perfumed with devotion. my dearest daughter, i thank the sovereign light which shed its rays so mercifully into this heart of mine, that the more i go among those who are deprived of faith, the more clearly and vividly i see its magnificence and its inexpressible, yet most desirable, sweetness."[ ] in order to make great progress in the spirit of faith, which is that of christian perfection, blessed francis was not satisfied with simple assent to all those truths which are divinely revealed, or with submission to the will of god as taught in them, he wanted more than this. it was his desire that we should be actuated in all our dealings by the spirit of faith, as far at least as that is possible, so as to arrive at last at that summit of perfect charity which the apostle calls the more excellent way, and of which he says that _he who is joined to the lord is one spirit_. [footnote : st. francis de sales was spoken of as _our blessed father_, not only by the visitation nuns, but in the whole neighbourhood of annecy.] [footnote : cf. _the depositions of st. chantal_. point th.] upon temptations against faith. _he who is not tempted what knows he?_ says holy scripture. god is faithful, and will not permit us to be tempted beyond our strength; nay, if we are faithful to him, he enables us to profit by our tribulation. he not only helps us, but he makes us find our help in the tribulation itself, in which, thinking we were perishing, we cried out to him to save us. those who imagine themselves to be in danger of losing the faith, when the temptations suggested to them by the enemy against this virtue, harass and distress them, understand very little of the nature of temptations. for, besides that temptation cannot harm us, as long as it is displeasing to us, which is the teaching of one of the early fathers, it actually, in such case, produces an absolutely contrary effect to what we fear, and to the aim of our adversary, the devil. for just as the palm tree takes deeper and stronger root, the more it is tossed and shaken by the winds and storms, so the more we are tossed by temptation, the more firmly are we settled in that virtue which the temptation was striving to overthrow. as we see from the lives of the saints, the most chaste are those who oppose the greatest resistance to the goad of sensuality, and the most patient are those who struggle the most earnestly against impatience. it is for this reason that holy scripture says: _happy is he who suffers temptation_, since, _after his trial, the crown of life awaits him_.[ ] in this way the more violent are the temptations against faith with which a soul is troubled, the more deeply does that virtue bury itself in the heart, and is there held all the more tightly and closely, because of our fear lest it escape. blessed francis provides us in one of his letters with three excellent means of resisting and overcoming temptations against faith. the first, is to despise all the suggestions of the evil one. they are outside and before our heart rather than within it, for there peace maintains its hold, though in great bitterness. this so exasperates our proud enemy, who is king over all the children of pride, that, seeing himself disdained, he withdraws. the second is not to fight against this temptation by contrary acts of the understanding, but by those of the will, darting forth a thousand protestations of fidelity to the truths which god reveals to us by his church. these acts of faith, supernatural as they are, soon reduce to ashes all the engines and machinations of the enemy. our saint gives us his third means, the use of the discipline, saying that this bodily suffering serves as a diversion to trouble of mind, and adds that the devil, seeing the flesh, which is his partisan and confederate, thus maltreated, is terrified and flies away. this is to act like that king of moab, who brought about the raising of the siege of his city, by sacrificing his son on the walls, in the sight of his enemies, so that, panic-stricken, with horror at a sight so appalling, they took at once to flight. [footnote : james i. .] upon the same subject. when the tempter sees that our heart is so firmly established in grace that we flee from sin as from a serpent, and that its very shadow, which is temptation, frightens us, he contents himself with disquieting us, seeing that he cannot make us yield to his will. in order to effect this, he stirs up a heap of trivial temptations, which he throws like dust into our eyes, so as to make us unhappy, and to render the path of virtue less pleasant to us. we must take up shield and sword to arm ourselves against great temptations; but there are many trivial and ordinary ones which are better driven away by contempt than by any other means. we arm ourselves against wolves and bears; but who would condescend to do so against the swarms of flies which torment us in hot weather? our blessed father, writing to one who was sorrowful and disquieted at finding herself assailed by temptations against faith, though these were most hateful and tormenting to her, expresses himself thus: "your temptations against faith have come back again, even though you never troubled yourself to answer them. they importune you again, but still you do not answer. "well, my daughter, all this is as it should be: but you think too much about them; you fear them too much; you dread them too much. were it not for that, they would do you no harm. you are too sensitive to temptations. you love the faith, and would not willingly suffer a single thought contrary to it to enter your mind; but the moment one so much as occurs to you you are saddened and troubled by it. "you are too jealous of your purity of faith. you fancy that everything that touches it must taint it. "no, my daughter, let the wind blow, and do not think that the rustling of the leaves is the clash of arms. a little while ago i was standing near some beehives, and some of the bees settled on my face. i wanted to brush them off with my hand. 'no,' said a peasant to me, 'do not be afraid, and do not touch them, then they will not sting you at all; but if you touch them they will half devour you.' i took his advice, and not one stung me. "believe me, if you do not fear these temptations, they will not harm you; pass on and pay no heed to them." upon confidence in god. on this subject i must relate a charming little instance of our blessed father's perfect confidence in god, of which he told me once with his accustomed simplicity, to the great consolation of my soul, and one which i was delighted afterwards to find related in a letter addressed to one of his most intimate friends. "yesterday," he said, "wishing to pay a visit to the archbishop of vienne, i went on the lake in a little boat, and felt very happy in the thought that my sole protection, besides a thin plank, was divine providence. the wind was high, and i was glad, too, to feel entirely under the command of the pilot, who made us all sit perfectly still; and, indeed, i had no wish to stir! do not, however, my daughter, take these words of mine as proofs of my being very holy. no, they are only little imaginary virtues which i amuse myself by fancying i possess. when it comes to real earnest, i am by no means so brave." the simplicity of the saint's thoughts when on the water, and of his way of mentioning them, shows how childlike was his trust in god. it reminds one of the happiness with which st. john leaned upon the saviour's breast. a saying, too, of saint teresa which i have read in her life comes to my mind. she declared she was never more absolutely content than when she found herself in some peril which obliged her to have recourse to god; because then it seemed to her that she was clinging more closely to his holy presence, and saying to him, as did jacob to the angel, that she would not let him go until he had blessed her. our misery appeals to god's mercy. to a soul overwhelmed by the consideration of its infidelities and miseries he wrote these words of marvellous consolation. "your miseries and infirmities ought not to astonish you. god has seen many and many a one as wretched as you, and his mercy never turns away the unhappy. on the contrary, by means of their wretchedness, he seeks to do them good, making their abjection the foundation of the throne of his glory. as job's patience was enthroned on a dung-hill, so god's mercy is raised upon the wretchedness of man; take away man's misery, and what becomes of god's mercy?" elsewhere he writes: "what does our lord love to do with his gift of eternal life, but to bestow it on souls that are poor, feeble, and of little account in their own eyes? yes, indeed, dearly beloved children, we must hope, and that with great confidence, to live throughout a happy eternity. the greater our misery the greater should be our confidence." these, indeed, are his very words in his second conference. again in one of his letters he says: "why? what would this good and all-merciful god do with his mercy; this god, whom we ought so worthily to honour for his goodness? what, i say, would he do with it if he did not share it with us, miserable as we are? if our wants and imperfections did not serve as a stage for the display of his graces and favours, what use would he make of this holy and infinite perfection?" this is the lesson left us by our blessed father, and we ought, indeed, to hope with that lively hope animated by love, without which none can be saved. and this lively hope, what is it, but a firm and unwavering confidence that we shall, through god's grace and god's mercy, attain to the joy of heaven, which, being infinite, is boundless and unmeasurable. upon self-distrust. distrust of self and confidence in god are the two mystic wings of the dove; that is to say, of the soul which, having learnt to be simple, takes its flight and rests in god, the great and sovereign object of its love, of its flight, and of its repose. _the spiritual combat_, which is an excellent epitome of the science of salvation and of heavenly teaching, makes these two things, distrust of self and confidence in god, to be, as it were, the introduction to true wisdom: they are, the author tells us, the two feet on which we walk towards it, the two arms with which we embrace it, and the two eyes with which we perceive it. in proportion to the growth of one of these two in us is the increase of the other; the greater or the less the degree of our self-distrust, the greater or the less the degree of our confidence in god. but whence springs this salutary distrust of self? from the knowledge of our own misery and vileness, of our weakness and impotence, of our malice and levity. and whence proceeds confidence in god? from the knowledge which faith gives us of his infinite goodness, and from our assurance that he is rich in mercy to all those who call upon him. if distrust and confidence seem incompatible with one another, listen to what our blessed father says on the subject: "not only can the soul which knows her misery have great confidence in god, but unless she has such knowledge, it is impossible for her to have true confidence in him; for it is this very knowledge and confession of our misery which brings us to god. thus, all the great saints, job, david, and the rest, began every prayer with the confession of their own misery, and unworthiness. it is a very good thing to acknowledge ourselves to be poor, vile, abject, and unworthy to appear in the presence of god. that saying so celebrated among the ancients: _know thyself_, even though it may be understood as referring to the knowledge of the greatness and excellence of the soul, which ought not to be debased or profaned by things unworthy of its nobility, may also be taken as referring to the knowledge of our personal unworthiness, imperfection, and misery. now the greater our knowledge of our own misery the more profound will be our confidence in the goodness and mercy of god; for between mercy and misery there is so close a connection that the one cannot be exercised without the other. if god had not created man, he would still, indeed, have been perfect in goodness; but he would not have been actually merciful, since mercy can only be exercised towards the miserable. you see, then, that the more miserable we know ourselves to be the more occasion we have to confide in god, since we have nothing in ourselves in which we can trust." he goes on to say: "it is a very good thing to mistrust ourselves, but at the same time how will that avail us, unless we put our whole confidence in god, and wait for his mercy? it is right that our daily faults and infidelities should cause us self-reproach when we would appear before our lord; and we read of great souls, like st. catherine of siena and st. teresa, who, when they had been betrayed into some fault, were overwhelmed with confusion. again, it is reasonable that, having offended god, we should out of humility and a feeling of confusion, hold ourselves a little in the background. when we have offended even an earthly friend, we feel ashamed to meet him. nevertheless, it is quite certain that we must not remain for long at a distance, for the virtues of humility, abjection, and confusion are intermediate virtues, or steps by which the soul ascends to union with her god. "it would be no great gain to accept our nothingness as a fact and to strip ourselves of self (which is done by acts of self-humiliation) if the result of this were not the total surrender of ourselves to god. st. paul teaches us this, when he says: _strip yourselves of the old man and put on the new_.[ ] for we must not remain unclothed; but clothe ourselves with god." further on our saint says: "i ever say that the throne of god's mercy is our misery, therefore the greater our misery the greater should be our confidence."[ ] as regards the foundation of our confidence in god, he says in the same conference: "you wish further to know what foundation our confidence ought to have. know, then, that it must be grounded on the infinite goodness of god, and on the merits of the death and passion of our lord jesus christ with this condition on our part that we should preserve and recognise in ourselves an entire and firm resolution to belong wholly to god, and to abandon ourselves in all things and without any reserve to his providence." he adds that, in order to belong wholly to god, it is not necessary to _feel_ this resolution, because feeling resides chiefly in the lower faculties of the soul; but we must recognise it in the higher part of the soul, that purer and more serene region where even in spite of our feelings we fail not to serve god in spirit and in truth. [footnote : col. iii. .] [footnote : conference ii.] upon the justice and mercy of god. you ask me a question which would be hard for me to answer had i not the mind of our blessed father to guide and assist me in the matter. you say: whence comes it that almighty god treated the rebel angels with so much severity, showing them no mercy whatever, and providing for them no remedy to enable them to rise again after their fall; whereas to men he is so indulgent, patient towards their malice, waiting for them to repent, long suffering, and magnificent in his mercy, bestowing on them the copious redemption of the saviour? well, he tells us in his _treatise on the love of god_[ ] that: "the angelic nature could only commit sin from positive malice, without temptation or motive to excuse, even partially. nevertheless, the far greater part of the angels remained constant in the service of their saviour. therefore god, who had so amply glorified his mercy in the work of the creation of the angels, would also magnify his justice; and in his righteous indignation resolved for ever to abandon that accursed band of traitors, who in their rebellion had so villainously abandoned him." on man, however, he took pity for several reasons. first, because the tempter by his cunning had deceived our first father, adam; secondly, because the spirit of man is encompassed by flesh and consequently by infirmity; thirdly, because his spirit, enclosed as it is in an earthly body, is frail as the vessel which enshrines it, easily overbalanced by every breath of wind, and unable to right itself again; fourthly, because the temptation in the garden of eden was great and over-mastering; fifthly, because he had compassion on the posterity of adam, which otherwise would have perished with him; but the sixth, and principal cause was this: almighty god having resolved to take on himself our human nature in order to unite it to the divine person of the word, he willed to favour very specially this nature for the sake of that hypostatic union, which was to be the masterpiece of all the communications of almighty god to his creatures. do not, however, imagine that god so willed to magnify his mercy in the redemption of man that he forgot the claims of his justice. no, truly; for no severity can equal that which he displayed in the sufferings of his son, on whose sacred head having laid the iniquities of us all, he poured out a vengeance commensurate with his divine wrath. if, then, we weigh the severity displayed by god towards the rebel angels against that with which he treated his divine son when redeeming mankind, we shall find his justice more abundantly satisfied in the atonement made by the one than in the rigorous punishment of the others. in fine here, as always, his mercy overrides his judgments, inasmuch as the fallen angels are punished far less than they deserve, and the faithful are rewarded far beyond their merits. [footnote : bk. ii c. iv.] waiting upon god. on this subject of waiting upon god i remember hearing from blessed francis two wonderful explanations. you, my dear sisters, will, i am sure, be glad to have them, and will find them of great use, seeing that your life, nailed as it is with jesus christ to the cross, must be one of great long-suffering. he thus interpreted that verse of the psalmist: _with expectation have i waited on the lord, and he was attentive to me._[ ] "to wait, waiting," he said, "is not to fret ourselves while we are waiting. for there are some who in waiting do not wait, but are troubled and impatient." those who have to wait soon get weary, and from weariness springs that disturbance of mind so common amongst them. hence the inspired saying that _hope that is deferred afflicteth the soul_.[ ] of all kinds of patience there is none more fitting to tedious waiting than longanimity. strength is developed in dangers; patience drives away the sadness caused by suffering; constancy avails for the bearing of great evils; perseverance for the carrying out a good work to its completion; but longanimity has to do with sufferings which are painful because they are long enduring. such pains are tedious, but not often violent, for violent sufferings are, as a rule, not lasting; either they pass away, or he on whom they are inflicted, being unable to bear them, is set free by death. to wait, indeed, for deliverance from evils quietly, but without any anguish or irritation, at least in the superior part of the soul, is to wait, waiting. happy are those who wait in this manner, for their hope shall not be confounded. of them the psalmist says that god will remember them, that he will grant their prayers, and that he will deliver them from the pit of misery.[ ] those who act otherwise, and who in their adversity give themselves up to impatience, only aggravate their yoke, instead of lightening it. they are like the bird which beats its wings against the wrist or perch on which it is poised, but cannot get free from its chain. wise christians making a virtue of necessity and wishing what god wishes, make that which is necessary voluntary, and turn their suffering to their eternal advantage. [footnote : psalm xxxix, i.] [footnote : psalm xiii. .] [footnote : psalm xxxix. .] upon the difference between a holy desire of reward and a mercenary spirit. i am asked if there is not something of a mercenary spirit in these words of our blessed father: "oh, how greatly to be loved is the eternity of heaven, and how contemptible are the fleeting moments of earth! aspire continually to this eternity, and despise heartily this decaying world." you will observe, if you please, that there is a great deal of difference between a proper desire of reward and a mercenary habit of mind. the proper desire of recompense is one which looks principally to the glory of god, and to that glory refers its own reward. a habit of mind which, according to the teaching of the holy council of trent, is most excellent.[ ] but a mercenary habit of mind is shown when we stop short voluntarily, deliberately, and maliciously at our own self-interest, neglecting and putting on one side the interests of god, and when we look forward only to the honours, satisfactions, and delights given to the faithful, and exclude, as it were, the tribute of glory and homage which they render for them to god. as regards these words of our blessed father's, i am perfectly certain that, whatever they may at first sight seem to mean, they are assuredly the expression of thoughts, utterly unselfish, and totally devoid of the spirit of self-seeking. he had written just before: "take good heed not to come to the feast of the holy cross, which is a million times fuller of exquisite pleasures than any wedding feast, without having on the white robe, spotless, and pure from all intentions save that of pleasing the lamb." again, i should like to read to you an extract from one of his letters, in which you will see that he knew how to distinguish, even in paradise, our interests from those of god: so pure and penetrating was his sight that it resembled that single eye of which the gospel speaks,[ ] which fills us with light and discernment in things spiritual and divine. he speaks thus in his letter: "i have not been able to think of anything this morning save of the eternity of blessings which awaits us. and yet all appear to me as little or nothing beside that unchanging and ever-present love of the great god, which reigns continually in heaven. for truly i think that the joys of paradise would be possible, in the midst of all the pains of hell, if the love of god could be there. and if hell-fire were a fire of love, it seems to me that its torments would be the most desirable of good things. all the delights of heaven are in my eyes a mere nothing compared with this triumphant love. truly, we must either die or love god. i desire that my heart should either be torn from my body or that if it remains with me it should hold nothing but this holy love. ah! we must truly give our hearts up to our immortal king, and thus being closely united to him, live solely for him. let us die to ourselves and to all that depends on ourselves. it seems to me that we ought to live only for god. the very thought of this fills my heart once more with courage and fervour. after all, that our lord _is_ our lord is the one thing in the world that really concerns us." again, in his theotimus,[ ] he says: "the supreme motive of our actions, which is that of heavenly love, has this sovereign property, that being most pure, it makes the actions which proceed from it most pure; so that the angels and saints of heaven love absolutely nothing for any other end whatever than that of the love of the divine goodness, and from the motive of desiring to please god. they all, indeed, love one another most ardently; they also love us, they love the virtues, but all this only to please god. they follow and practise virtues, not inasmuch as these virtues are fair and attractive to them; but inasmuch as they are agreeable to god. they love their own felicity, not because it is theirs, but because it pleases god. yea, they love the very love with which they love god, not because it is in them, but because it tends to god; not because they have and possess it, but because god gives it to them, and takes his good pleasure in it." [footnote : _de justificat_, cap. .] [footnote : matt. vi. .] [footnote : bk. xi. .] continuation of the same subject. there are some gloomy minds which imagine that when the motive of charity and disinterested love is insisted upon all other motives are thereby depreciated, and that it is wished to do away with them. but does he who praises one saint blame the others? if we extol the seraphim, do we on that account despise all the lower orders of angels? does the man who considers gold more precious than silver say that silver is nothing at all? are we insulting the stars when we admire and praise the sun? and do we despise marriage because we put celibacy above it? it is true that, as the apostle says, charity is the greatest of all virtues, without which the others have neither life nor soul; but that does not prevent these others from being virtues, and most desirable as good habits. in doing virtuous actions the motive of charity is, indeed, the king of all motives; but blessed also are all those inferior motives which are subject to it. we may truly say of them what the queen of sheba said of the courtiers of solomon: _happy are thy men who always stand before thee and hear thy wisdom._[ ] nay, even servile and mercenary motives, although interested, may yet be good, provided they have nothing in them that cannot be referred to god. they are good in those who have not charity, preparing them for the reception of justifying grace. they are also good in the regenerate, and are compatible with charity, like servants and slaves in the service and households of the great. for it is right, however regenerate we may be, to abstain from sin, not only for fear of displeasing god, but also for fear of losing our souls. the council of trent tells us that we are not doing ill when we perform good works primarily in order to glorify god; and also, as an accessory, with a view to the eternal reward which god promises to those who shall do such in his love and for his love. in great temptations, for fear of succumbing, the just may with advantage call to their aid the thought of hell, thereby to save themselves from eternal damnation and the loss of paradise. but the first principles of the doctrine of salvation teach us that, to avoid evil and do good, simply from the motive of pure and disinterested love of god, is the most perfect and meritorious mode of action. what! say some:--must we cease to fear god and to hope in him? what, then, becomes of acts of holy fear, and of the virtue of hope? if a mother were to abuse the doctor who had restored her child to life, would it not excite a strong suspicion that it was she herself who had attempted to smother it? did not she who said to solomon: _let it be divided_,[ ] show herself to be the false mother? they who are so much attached to servile fear can have no real desire to attain to that holy, pure, loving, reverent fear which leads to everlasting rest, and which the saints and angels practise through all eternity. let us listen to what blessed francis further says on this subject. "when we were little children, how eagerly and busily we used to collect tiny scraps of cloth, bits of wood, handfuls of clay, to build houses and make little boats! and if any one destroyed these wonderful erections, how unhappy we were; how bitterly we cried! but now we smile when we think how trivial it all was. "well," he goes on to say, "let us, since we are but children, be pardoned if we act as such; but, at the same time, do not let us grow cold and dull in our work. if any one knocks over our little houses, and spoils our small plans, do not let us now be unhappy or give way altogether on that account. the less so because when the evening comes, and we need a roof, i mean when death is at hand, these poor little buildings of ours will be quite unfit to shelter us. we must then be safely housed in our father's mansion, which is the kingdom of his well-beloved son." [footnote : paral. ix. .] [footnote : kings iii. .] god should suffice for us all. a person of some consideration, and one who made much profession of living a devout life, was overtaken by sudden misfortune, which deprived her of almost all her wealth and left her plunged in grief. her distress of mind was so inconsolable that it led her to complain of the providence of god, who appeared, she said, to have forgotten her. all her faithful service and the purity of her life seemed to have been in vain. blessed francis, full of compassionate sympathy for her misfortunes, and anxious to turn her thoughts from the contemplation of herself and of earthly things, to fix them on god, asked her if he was not more to her than anything; nay, if, in fact, god was not himself everything to her; and if, having loved him when he had given her many things, she was not now ready to love him, though she received nothing from him. she, however, replying that such language was more speculative than practical, and easier to speak than to carry into effect, he wound up by saying, with st. augustine: _too avaricious is that heart to which god does not suffice._ "assuredly, he who is not satisfied with god is covetous indeed." this word _covetous_ produced a powerful effect upon the heart of one who, in the days of her prosperity, had always hated avarice, and had been most lavish in her expenditure, both on her own needs and pleasures and on works of mercy. it seemed as if suddenly the eyes of her soul were opened, and she saw how admirable, how infinitely worthy of love god ever remained, whether with those things she had possessed or without them. so, by degrees, she forgot herself and her crosses; grace prevailed, and she knew and confessed that god was all in all to her. such efficacy have a saint's words, even if unpremeditated. charity the short road to perfection. blessed francis, in speaking of perfection, often remarked that, although he heard very many people talking about it, he met with very few who practised it. "many, indeed," he would say, "are so mistaken in their estimate of what perfection is, that they take effects for the cause, the rivulet for the spring, the branches for the root, the accessories for the principle, and often even the shadow for the substance." for myself, i know of no christian perfection other than to love god with our whole heart and our neighbour as ourselves. all other perfection is falsely so entitled: it is sham gold that does not stand testing. charity is the only bond between christians, the only virtue which unites us absolutely to god, and our neighbour. in charity lies the end of every perfection and the perfection of every end. i know that mortification, prayer, and the other exercises of virtue, are all means to perfection, provided that they are practised in charity, and from the motive of charity. but we must never regard any of these means towards attaining perfection as being in themselves perfection. this would be to stop short on the road, and in the middle of the race, instead of reaching the goal. the apostle exhorts us, indeed, to run, but so as to carry off the prize[ ], which is for those only who have breath enough to reach the end of the course. in a word, all our actions must be done in charity if we wish to walk in a manner, as says st. paul, worthy of god; that is to say, to hasten on towards perfection. charity is the way of true life; it is the truth of the living way; it is the life of the way of truth. all virtue is dead without it: it is the very life of virtue. no one can reach the last and supreme end, god himself, without charity; it is the way to him. there is no true virtue without charity, says st. thomas; it is the very truth of virtue. in conclusion, and in answer to my repeated question as to how we were to go to work in order to attain to this perfection, this supreme love of god and of our neighbour, our blessed father said that we must use exactly the same method as we should in mastering any ordinary art or accomplishment. "we learn," he said, "to study by studying, to play on the lute by playing, to dance by dancing, to swim by swimming. so also we learn to love god and our neighbour _by loving_ them, and those who attempt any other method are mistaken." you ask me, my sisters, how we can discover whether or not we are making any progress towards perfection. i cannot do better than consult our oracle, blessed francis, and answer you in his own words, taken from his eighth conference. "we can never know what perfection we have reached, for we are like those who are at sea; they do not know whether they are making progress or not, but the pilot knows, knowing the course. so we cannot estimate our own advancement, though we may that of others, for we dare not assure ourselves when we have done a good action that we have done it perfectly--humility forbids us to do so. nay, even were we able to judge of the virtues of others, we must never determine in our minds that one person is better than another, because appearances are deceitful, and those who seem very virtuous outwardly and in the eyes of creatures, may be less so in the sight of god than others who appear much more imperfect." i have often heard him say that the multiplicity of means proposed for advancement towards perfection frequently delays the progress of souls. they are like travellers uncertain of the way, and who seeing many roads branching off in different directions stay and waste their time by enquiring here and there which of them they ought to take in order to reach their journey's end. he advised people to confine themselves rather to some special spiritual exercise or virtue, or to some well-chosen book of piety--for example, to the exercise of the presence of god, or of submission to his will, or to purity of intention, or some similar exercise. among books, he recommended chiefly, _the spiritual combat_, _the imitation of jesus christ_, _the method of serving god_, _grenada_, _blosius_, and such like. among the virtues, as you know well, his favourites were gentleness and humility, charity--without which others are of no value--being always pre-supposed. on this subject of advancement towards perfection, he speaks thus in the ninth of his conferences: "if you ask me, 'what can i do to acquire the love of god?' i answer, _will_; i.e., _try_ to love him; and instead of setting to work to find out how you can unite your soul to god, put the thing in practice by a frequent application of your mind to him. i assure you that you will arrive much more quickly at your end by this means than in any other way. "for the more we pour ourselves out the less recollected we shall be, and the less capable of union with the divine majesty, who would have all we are without reserve." he continues: "one actually finds souls who are so busy in thinking how they shall do a thing that they have no time to do it. and yet, in what concerns our perfection, which consists in the union of our soul with the divine goodness, there is no question of knowing much; but only of doing." again, in the same conference, he says: "it seems to me that those of whom we ask the road to heaven are very right in answering us as those do who tell us that, in order to reach such a place, we must just go on putting one foot before the other, and that by this means we shall arrive where we desire. walk ever, we say to these souls so desirous of their perfection, walk in the way of your vocation with simplicity, more intent on doing than on desiring. that is the shortest road." "and," he adds, "in aspiring to union with the beloved, there is no other secret than to do what we aspire to--that is, to labour faithfully in the exercise of divine love." [footnote : cor. ix. .] upon what it is to love god truly. in connection with this subject of the love of god and of our neighbour, i asked our blessed father what _loving_ in this sense of the word really was. he replied: "love is the primary passion of our emotional desires, and a primary element in that emotional faculty which is the will. so that to will is nothing more than to love what is good, and love is the willing or desiring what is good. if we desire good for ourselves we have what is called self-love; if we desire good for another we have the love of friendship." to love god and our neighbour, then, with the love of charity, which is the love of friendship, is to desire good to god for himself, and to our neighbour in god and for the love of god. we can desire two sorts of good for god: that which he has, rejoicing that he is what he is, and that nothing can be added to the greatness and to the infinity of his inward perfection; and that which he has not, by wishing it for him, either effectively, if it is in our power to give it to him, or by loving and longing, if it is not in our power to give it. for, indeed, there is a good which god desires and which is not his as it should be in perfection. that external good, as it is called, is the good which proceeds from the honour and glory rendered to him by his creatures, especially by those among them endowed with reason. this is the good which david wishes to god in so many of his psalms. among others, in the _praise ye the lord from the heavens_,[ ] and in the _bless the lord, o my soul_.[ ] the three children also in the fiery furnace wish this good to god by their canticle: _all ye works of the lord, bless the lord._[ ] if we truly love god we shall try to bring this good to him through ourselves, surrendering our whole being to him, and doing all our actions, the indifferent as well as the good, for his glory. not content with that, we shall also strive with all our might to make our neighbour serve and love god, so that by all and in all things god may be honoured. to love our neighbour in god is to rejoice in the good which our neighbour possesses, provided, indeed, that he makes use of it for the divine glory; to render him in his need all the assistance which lies within our power; to be zealous for the welfare of his soul, and to work for it as we do for our own, because god wills and desires it. that is to have true and unfeigned charity, and to love god sincerely and steadfastly for his own sake and our neighbour for the love of him. [footnote : psalm cxlviii. .] [footnote : id. ciii. .] [footnote : dan. iii. .] upon the love of god in general. a whole mountain of virtues, if destitute of this living, reigning, and triumphant love, was to blessed francis but as a petty heap of stones. he was never weary of inculcating love of god as the supreme motive of every action. the whole of his theotimus (_the treatise on the love of god_) breathes this sentiment, and he often told me that it was impossible to insist upon it too strongly in our teaching and advice to our people. "for, in fact," he used to say, "what is the use of running a race if we do not reach the goal, or of drawing the bow if we do not hit the target?" oh! how many good works are useless as regards the glory of god and the salvation of souls, for want of this motive of charity! and yet, this is the last thing people think of, as if the intention were not the very soul of a good action, and as if god had ever promised to reward works not done for his glory, and not applied to his honour. all for love of god. you know very well how blessed francis valued charity, but i will give you, nevertheless, some more of his teaching on this great subject. to a holy soul who had placed herself under his direction, he said: "we must do all things from love, and nothing from constraint. we must love obedience rather than fear disobedience. i leave you the spirit of liberty: not such as excludes obedience, for that is the liberty of the flesh, but such as excludes constraint, scruples, and over-eagerness. however much you may love obedience and submission, i wish you to suspend for the moment the work in which obedience has engaged you whenever any just or charitable occasion for so doing occurs. this omission will be a species of obedience. fill up its measure by charity." from this spirit of holy and christian liberty originated the saying so often to be met with in his letters: "keep your heart in peace." that is to say: beware of hurry, anxiety, and bitterness of heart. these he called the ruin of devotion. he was even unwilling that people should meditate upon the great truths of death, judgment and hell, unless they at the same time reassured themselves by the remembrance of god's love for them. speaking to a holy soul, he says: "meditation on the four last things will be useful to you provided that you always end with an act of confidence in god. never represent to yourself death or hell on the one side unless the cross is on the other; so that when your fears have been excited by the one you may with confidence turn for help to the other." the one point on which he chiefly insisted was that we must fear god from love, not love god from fear. "to love him from fear," he used to say, "is to put gall into our food and to quench our thirst with vinegar; but to fear him from love is to sweeten aloes and wormwood." assuredly, our own experience convinces us that it is difficult to love those whom we fear, and that it is impossible not to fear with a filial and reverent fear those whom we love. you find some difficulty, it seems, my sisters, in understanding how all things, as st. paul says,[ ] whether good, bad, or indifferent, can in the end work together for good to those who love god. to satisfy you, i quote the words of blessed francis on this subject in one of his letters. "since," he says, "god can bring good out of evil, will he not surely do so for those who have given themselves unreservedly to him? yes; even sins, from which may god in his goodness keep us, are by his divine providence, when we repent of them, changed into good for those who are his. never would david have been so bowed down with humility if he had not sinned, nor would magdalene have loved her saviour so fervently had he not forgiven her so many sins. but he could not have forgiven them had she not committed them." again: "consider, my dear daughter, this great artificer of mercy, who changes our miseries into graces, and out of the poison of our iniquities compounds a wholesome medicine for our souls. tell me, then, i beseech you, if god works such wonders with our sins, what will he not effect with our afflictions, with our labours, with the persecutions which we have to endure? no matter what trouble befalls you, nor from what direction it may come, let your soul be at peace, certain that if you truly love god all will turn to good. and though you cannot see the springs which work this marvellous change, rest assured that it will take place. "if the hand of god touches your eyes with the clay of shame and reproach, it is only to give you clearer sight, and to cause you to be honoured. "if he should cast you to the ground, as he did st. paul, it will only be to raise you up again to glory."[ ] [footnote : rom. viii. .] [footnote : rom. viii. .] the same subject continued. "all by love, nothing by constraint." this was his favourite motto, and the mainspring of his direction of others. he has often said to me that those who try to force the human will are exercising a tyranny which is hateful to god and man. this was why he had such a horror of those masterful and dominant spirits which insist on being obeyed, _bon gré mal gré_, and would have every one give way to them. "those," he often said, "who love to make themselves feared, fear to make themselves loved; and they themselves are more fearful than anyone else: for others only fear _them_, but they are afraid of every one." i have often heard him say these striking words: "in the royal galley of divine love there is no galley-slave; all the oarsmen are volunteers." and he expresses the same sentiment in theotimus, when he says: "divine love governs the soul with an incomparable sweetness; for no one of the slaves of love is made such by force, but love brings all things under its rule, with a constraint so delightful, that as nothing is so strong as love, nothing also is so sweet as its strength."[ ] and in another part of the same book he makes a soul, attracted by the delicious perfume shed by the divine bridegroom on his path, say: "let no one think that thou draggest me after thee like an unwilling slave or a lifeless load. ah! no. thou drawest me by the _odour of thine ointments_; though i follow thee, it is not that thou draggest me, but that thou enticest me. thy drawing is mighty, but not violent, since its whole force lies in its sweetness. perfumes draw me to follow them in virtue only of their sweetness. and sweetness, how can it attract but sweetly and pleasantly?"[ ] following out this principle, he never gave a command even to those who were bound to obey him, whether his servants or his clergy, save in the form of a request or suggestion. he held in special veneration, and often inculcated upon me the command of st. peter: _feed the flock of god which is among you, not by constraint, but willingly, not for filthy lucre's sake, neither as lording it over the clergy, but being made a pattern of virtue to the flock._[ ] and here, my sisters, i feel that if will be for your profit, although the story is not to my own credit, to relate a circumstance which occurred in the early years of my episcopate. i was young, impetuous, and impatient; eager to reform the abuses and disorders which from time to time i met with in my pastoral visitations. often, too, i know, i was bitter and harsh when discouraged. once in a despairing mood because of the many failures i noticed in myself, and others, i poured forth my lamentations and self-accusations to our blessed father, who said: "what a masterful spirit you have! you want to walk upon the wings of the wind. you let yourself be carried away by your zeal, which, like a will-of-the-wisp, will surely lead you over a precipice. have you forgotten the warning of your patron, st. peter, _not to think you can walk in burning heat?_[ ] would you do more than god, and restrain the liberty of the creatures whom god has made free? you decide matters, as if the wills of your subjects were all in your own hands. god, who holds all hearts in his and who searches the reins and the hearts, does not act thus. he puts up with resistance, rebellion against his light, kicking against the goad, opposition to his inspirations, even though his spirit be grieved thereby. he does, indeed, suffer those to perish who through the hardness of their impenitent hearts have heaped to themselves wrath in the day of vengeance. yet he never wearies of calling them to him, however often they reject his offers and say to him, _depart from us, we will not follow thy ways_.[ ] "in this our angel guardians follow his example, and although we may forsake god by our iniquities, they will not forsake us as long as there is breath in our body, even though we may have fallen into sin. do you want better examples for regulating your conduct?" [footnote : book i. .] [footnote : book ii. .] [footnote : peter v. , .] [footnote : peter iv. .] [footnote : job xxi. .] upon the love of god, called love of benevolence. you ask me what i have to say as regards the love of benevolence towards god. what good thing can we possibly wish for god which he has not already, what can we desire for him which he does not possess far more fully than we can desire him to have it? what good can we do to him to whom all our goods belong, and who has all good in himself; or, rather, who is himself all good? i reply to this question as i have done to others, that there are many spiritual persons, and some even of the most gifted, who are greatly mistaken in their view of this matter. we must distinguish in god two sorts of good, the one interior, the other exterior. the first is himself; for his goodness, like his other attributes, is one and the same thing with his essence or being. now this good, being infinite, can neither be augmented by our serving god and by our honouring him, nor can it be diminished by our rebelling against him and by our working against him. it is of it that the psalmist speaks when he says that our goods are nothing unto him. but there is another kind of good which is exterior; and this, though it belongs to god, is not in him, but in his creatures, just as the moneys of the king are, indeed, his, but they are in the coffers of his treasurers and officials. this exterior good consists in the honours, obedience, service, and homage which his creatures owe and render to him: creatures of whom each one has of necessity his glory as the final end and aim of its creation. and this good it is which we can, with the grace of god, desire for him, and ourselves give to him, and which we can either by our good works increase or by our sins take from. in regard to this exterior good, we can practise towards god the love of benevolence by doing all things, and all good works in our power, in order to increase his honour, or by having the intention to bless, glorify, and exalt him in all our actions; and much more by refraining from any action which might tarnish god's glory and displease him, whose will is our inviolable law. the love of benevolence towards god does not stop here. for, because charity obliges us to love our neighbour as ourselves from love of god, we try to urge on our fellow-men to promote this divine glory, each one as far as he can. we incite them to do all sorts of good, so as thereby to magnify god the more. thus the psalmist said to his brethren, _o magnify the lord with me, and let us extol his name together_.[ ] this same ardour incites and presses us also (_urget_ is the word used by st. paul) to do our utmost to aid our neighbour to rise from sin, which renders him displeasing to god, and to prevent sin by which the divine goodness is offended. this is what is properly called zeal, the zeal which consumed the psalmist when he saw how the wicked forget god, and which caused him to cry out: _my zeal has made me pine away, because my enemies forgot thy words_.[ ] and again, _the zeal of thy house hath eaten me up_.[ ] you ask if this love of benevolence might not also be exercised towards god in respect of that interior and infinite good which he possesses and which is himself. i reply, with our blessed father in his theotimus, that we can wish him to have this good, by rejoicing in the fact that he has it, and that he is what he is; hence that vehement outburst of david, _know ye, that the lord he is god_.[ ] and again, _a great king above all gods_. moreover, the mystical elevations and the ecstasies of the saints were acts of the love of god in which they wished him all good and rejoiced in his possessing it. our imagination, too, may help us, as it did st. augustine, of whom our blessed father writes: "this desire, then, of god, by imagination of impossibilities, may be sometimes profitably practised in moments of great and extraordinary feelings and fervours. we are told that the great st. augustine often made such acts, pouring out in an excess of love these words: 'ah! lord, i am augustine, and thou art god; but still, if that which neither is nor can be were, that i were god, and thou augustine, i would, changing my condition with thee, become augustine to the end that thou mightest be god.'"[ ] we can again wish him the same good by rejoicing in the knowledge that we could never, even by desiring it, add anything to the incomprehensible infinity and infinite incomprehensibility of his greatness and perfection. holy, holy, holy, lord god of hosts. heaven and earth are full of thy glory: praise to god in the highest. amen. [footnote : psalm xxxiii. .] [footnote : psalm cxviii. .] [footnote : psalm lxviii. .] [footnote : psalm xciv. .] [footnote : book v. c. .] disinterested love of god. you know that among the saints for whom our blessed father had a special devotion, st. louis of france held a very prominent position. now, in the life of the holy king, written by the sieur de joinville, there is a little story which our blessed father used to say contained the summary of all christian perfection; and, indeed, its beauty and excellence have made it so well known that we find it told or alluded to in most books of devotion. it is that of the holy woman--whose name, though written in the book of life, is not recorded in history--who presented herself to brother yves, a breton, of the order of st. dominic, whom king louis, being in the holy land, had sent as an ambassador to the caliph of syria. she was holding in one hand a lighted torch, and in the other a pitcher of water filled to the brim. addressing the good dominican, she told him that her intention was to burn up paradise with the one and to put out the fire of hell with the other, in order that henceforth god might be served with a holy and unfeigned charity. that is to say, with a true and disinterested love, for love of himself alone, not from a servile and mercenary spirit; _i.e._, from fear of punishment or hope of reward. our blessed father told me that he should have liked this story to be told on all possible occasions, and to have had engravings of the subject for distribution, so that by so beautiful an example many might be taught to love and serve god with true charity, and to have no other end in view than his divine glory; for true charity seeks not her own advantage, but only the honour of her beloved. upon the character of a true christian. a salamander, according to the fable, is a creature hatched in the chilling waters of arctic regions, and is consequently by nature so cold that it delights in the burning heat of a furnace. fire, said the ancients, cannot consume it nor even scorch it. "just so is it with the christian," said blessed francis. "he is born in a region far away from god, and is altogether alien from him. he is conceived in iniquity and brought forth in sin, and sin is far removed from the way of salvation. man is condemned before his very birth. _damnatus antequam natus_, says st. bernard. he is born in the darkness of original sin and in the region of the shadow of death. but, being born again in the waters of baptism, in which he is clothed with the habit of charity, the fire of the holy love of god is enkindled in him. henceforth his real life, the life of grace and of spiritual growth, depends absolutely upon his abiding in that love; for he who loves not thus is dead; while, on the other hand, by this love man is called back from death to life." "charity," he continued, "is like a fire and a devouring flame. the little charity which we possess in this life is liable to be extinguished by the violent temptations which urge us, or, to speak more truly, precipitate us into mortal sin; but that of the life to come is a flame all-embracing and all-conquering--it can neither fail nor flicker. "on earth charity, like fire, needs fuel to nourish it and keep it alive; but in its proper sphere, which is heaven, it feeds upon its own inherent heat, nor needs other nourishment. it is of vital importance here below to feed our charity with the fuel of good works, for charity is a habit so disposed to action that it unceasingly urges on those in whom the holy spirit has shed it abroad to perform such works. this the apostle expresses very aptly: _the charity of christ presseth us_.[ ] "st. gregory adds that the proof of true, unfeigned love is action, the doing of works seen and known to be good. for, if faith is manifested by good works, how much more charity, which is the root, the foundation, the soul, the life, and the form of every good and perfect work." [footnote : cor. v. .] upon not putting limits to our love of god. blessed francis used to say that those who narrow their charity, limiting it to the performance of certain duties and offices, beyond which they would not take a single step, are base and cowardly souls, who seem as though they wished to enclose in their own hands the mighty spirit of god. seeing that god is greater than our heart, what folly it is to try to shut him up within so small a circle. on this subject of the immeasurable greatness of the love which we should bear to god, he uttered these remarkable words: "to remain long in a settled, unchanging condition is impossible: in this traffic he who does not gain, loses; he who does not mount this ladder, steps down; he who is not conqueror in this combat, is vanquished. we live in the midst of battles in which our enemies are always engaging us. if we do not fight we perish; but we cannot fight without overcoming, nor overcome without victory, followed by a triumph and a crown." upon the law and the just man. you ask me the meaning of the apostle's saying that _the law is not made for the just man_.[ ] can any man be just unless he accommodate his actions to the rule of the law? is it not in the observance of the law that true justice consists? our blessed father explains this passage so clearly and delicately in his theotimus that i will quote his words for you. he says: "in truth the just man is not just, save inasmuch as he has love. and if he have love, there is no need to threaten him by the rigour of the law, love being the most insistent of all teachers, and ever urging the heart which it possesses to obey the will and the intention of the beloved. love is a magistrate who exercises his authority without noise and without police. its instrument is mutual complacency, by which, as we find pleasure in god, so also we desire to please him."[ ] permit me to add to these excellent words a reminder which ought not, i think, to be unprofitable to you. some imagine that it is enough to observe the law of god in order to save our souls, obeying the command of our lord: _do this_, that is to say, the law, _and you shall live_,[ ] without attempting to determine the motive which impels them to observe the law. now the truth is that some observe the law of god from a servile spirit, and only for fear of losing their souls. others chiefly from a mercenary spirit for the sake of the reward promised to those who keep it, and, as our blessed father says very happily: "many keep the commandments as medicines are taken, rather that they may escape eternal death than that they may live so as to please our saviour." one of his favourite sayings was: "it is better to fear god from love than to love him from fear." he says also: "there are people who, however pleasant a medicament may be, feel a repugnance when required to take it, simply from the fact of its being medicine. so also there are souls which conceive an absolute antipathy to anything they are commanded to do, only because they are so commanded." as soon, however, as the love of god is shed forth in the heart by the holy spirit, then the burden of the law becomes sweet, and its yoke light, because of the extreme desire of that heart to please god by the observance of his precepts. "there is no labour," he goes on to say, "where love is, or if there be any, it is a labour of love. labour mingled with love is a certain _bitter-sweet_, more pleasant to the palate than that which is merely sweet. thus then does heavenly love conform us to the will of god and make us carefully observe his commandments, this being the will of his divine majesty, whom we desire to please. so that this complacency with its sweet and amiable violence anticipates the necessity of obeying which the law imposes upon us, converting that necessity into the virtue of love, and every difficulty into delight."[ ] [footnote : tim. i. .] [footnote : book viii. c. .] [footnote : luke x. .] [footnote : cf. _treatise on the love of god_. book viii. c. .] upon desires. to desire to love god is to love to desire god, and consequently to love him: for love is the root of all desires. st. paul says: _the charity of god presses us_.[ ] and how does it press us if not by urging us to desire god. this longing for god is as a spur to the heart, causing it to leap forward on its way to god. the desire of glory incites the soldier to run all risks, and he desires glory because he loves it for its own sake, and deems it a blessing more precious than life itself. a sick man has not always an appetite for food, however much he may wish for it as a sign of returning health. nor can he by wishing for it obtain it, because the animal powers of our nature do not always obey the rational faculties. love and desire, however, being the offspring of one and the same faculty, whoever desires, loves, and whoever desires from the motive of charity is able to love from the same motive. but how, you ask, shall we know whether or not we have this true desire for the love of god, and having it, whether it proceeds from the motions of grace or from nature? it is rather difficult, my dear sisters, to give reasons for principles which are themselves their own reason. if you ask me why the fire is hot you must not take it amiss if i simply answer because it is not cold. but you wish to know what we have to do in order to obtain this most desirable desire to love god. our blessed father tells us that we must renounce all useless, or less necessary desires, because the soul wastes her power when she spreads herself out in over many desires, like the river which when divided by the army of a persian king into many channels lost itself altogether. "this," he said, "is why the saints used to retire into solitary places, so that being freed from earthly cares they might with more fervour give themselves up wholly and entirely to divine love. this is why the spouse in the canticles is represented with one eye closed, and all the power of vision concentrated in the other, thus enabling her to gaze more intently into the very depths of the heart of her beloved, piercing it with love. "this is why she even winds all her tresses into one single braid, using it as a chain to bind and hold captive the heart of her bridegroom, making him her slave by love! souls which sincerely desire to love god, close their understanding to all worldly things, so as to employ it the more fully in meditating upon things divine. "all the aspirations of our nature have to be summed up in the one single intention of loving god, and him alone: for to desire anything otherwise than for god is to desire god the less."[ ] [footnote : cor. v. .] [footnote : cf. _treatise on the love of god_. book xii. .] how charity excels both faith and hope. not only did blessed francis consider it intolerable that moral virtues should be held to be comparable to charity, but he was even unwilling that faith and hope, excellent, supernatural, and divinely infused though they be, should be reckoned to be of value without charity, or even when compared with it. in this he only echoed the thought and words of the great apostle st. paul, who in his first epistle to the corinthians writes: _faith, hope, and charity_ are three precious gifts, _but the greatest of these is charity_. faith, it is true, is love, "a love of the mind for the beautiful in the divine mysteries," as our blessed father says in his _treatise on the love of god_,[ ] but "the motions of love which forerun the act of faith required from our justification are either not love properly speaking, or but a beginning and imperfect love," which inclines the soul to acquiesce in the truths proposed for its acceptance. hope, too, is love, "a love for the useful in the goods which are promised in the other life."[ ] "it goes, indeed, to god but it returns to us; its sight is turned upon the divine goodness, yet with some respect to our own profit." "in hope love is imperfect because it does not tend to god's infinite goodness as being such in itself, but only because it is so to us.... in real truth no one is able by virtue of this love either to keep god's commandments or obtain life everlasting, because it is a love that yields more affection than effect when it is not accompanied by charity."[ ] but the perfect love of god, which is only to be found in charity, is a disinterested love, which loves the sovereign goodness of god in himself and for his sake only, without any aim except that he may be that which he is, eternally loved, glorified, and adored, because he deserves to be so, as st. thomas says. and it is in the fact that it attains more perfectly its final end that its pre-eminence consists. this is very clearly shown by blessed francis in the same treatise where he tells us that eternal life or salvation is shown to faith, and is prepared for hope, but is given only to charity. faith points out the way to the land of promise as a pillar of cloud and of fire, that is, light and dark; hope feeds us with its manna of sweetness, but charity actually introduces us into it, like the ark of the covenant, which leads us dry-shod through the jordan, that is, through the judgment, and which shall remain amidst the people in the heavenly land promised to the true israelites, where neither the pillar of faith serves as a guide, nor the manna of hope is needed as food.[ ] that which an ancient writer said of poverty, that it was a great good, yet very little known as such, can be said with far more reason of charity. it is a hidden treasure, a pearl shut up in its shell, and of which few know the value. the heretics of the present day profess themselves content with a dead faith, to which they attribute all their justice and their salvation. there are also catholics who appear to limit themselves to that interested love which is in hope, and who serve god as mercenaries, more for their own interest than for his. there are few who love god as he ought to be loved, that is to say, with the disinterested love of charity. yet, without this wedding garment, without this oil which fed the lamps of the wise virgins, there is no admittance to the marriage of the lamb. it is here that we may sing with the psalmist: _the lord hath looked down from heaven upon the children of men to see if there be any that understand and seek god_, that is, to know how he wishes to be served. _they are all gone aside, they are become unprofitable together: there is none that doeth good, no, not one_.[ ] this means that there is not one who doth good in spirit and in truth. yet, what is serving him in spirit and in truth but resolving to honour and obey him, for the love of himself, without admixture of private self-interest? but whoever has learnt to serve god after the pattern of those his beloved ones, who worship him in spirit and in truth, in burning faith and hope, animated by charity, may be said to be of the number of the holy nation, the royal priesthood, the chosen people, and to have entered into the sanctuary of true and christian holiness, of which our blessed father speaks thus: "in the sanctuary was kept the ark of the covenant, and near it the tables of the law, manna in a golden vessel, and aaron's rod, which in one night bore flowers and fruit. and in the highest point of the soul are found: °. the light of faith, figured by the manna hidden in its vessel, by which we recognize the truth of the mysteries we do not understand. °. the utility of hope, represented by aaron's flowering and fruitful rod, by which we acquiesce in the promises of the goods which we see not. °. the sweetness of holy charity, represented by god's commandments, the keeping of which it includes, by which we acquiesce in the union of our spirit with god's, though yet are hardly, if at all, conscious of this our happiness."[ ] [footnote : book ii. .] [footnote : book i. c. .] [footnote : book ii. .] [footnote : book i. .] [footnote : psalm xiii. , .] [footnote : book i. .] some thoughts of blessed francis on the passion. our blessed father considered that no thought is of such avail to urge us forward towards the perfection of divine love as the consideration of the passion and death of the son of god. this he called the sweetest, and yet the most constraining of all motives of piety. and when i asked him how he could possibly mention gentleness and constraint or violence in the same breath, he answered, "i can do so in the sense in which the apostle says that the charity of god presses us, constrains us, impels us, draws us, for such is the meaning of the word _urget_.[ ] in the same sense as that in which the holy ghost in the canticle of canticles tells us that _love is as strong as death and fierce as hell_." "we cannot deny," he added, "that love is the very essence of sweetness, and the sweetener of all bitterness, yet see how it is compared to what is most irresistible, namely, death and hell. the reason of this is that as there is nothing so strong as the sweetness of love, so also there is nothing more sweet and more lovable than its strength. oil and honey are each smooth and sweet, but when boiling nothing is to be compared with the heat they give out. "the bee when not interfered with is the most harmless of insects; irritated its sting is the sharpest of all. "jesus crucified is the lion of the tribe of judah--he is the answer to samson's riddle, for in his wounds is found the honeycomb of the strongest charity, and from this strength proceeds the sweetness of our greatest consolation. and certainly since our lord's dying for us, as all scripture testifies, is the climax of his love, it ought also to be the strongest of all our motives for loving him. "this it is which made st. bernard exclaim: 'oh, my lord, i entreat thee to grant that my whole heart may be so absorbed and, as it were, consumed in the burning strength and honeyed sweetness of thy crucified love, that i may die for the love of thy love, o redeemer of my soul, as thou hast deigned to die for the love of my love.' "it is this excess of love, which on the hill of calvary drained the last drop of life-blood from the sacred heart of the lover of our souls; it is of this love that moses and elias spoke on mount thabor amid the glory of the transfiguration. "they spoke of it to teach us that even in the glory of heaven, of which the transfiguration was only a glimpse, after the vision of the goodness of god contemplated and loved in itself, and for itself, there will be no more powerful incentive towards the love of our divine saviour than the remembrance of his death and passion. "we have a signal testimony to this truth in the apocalypse, where the saints and angels chant these words before the throne of him that liveth for ever and ever: _worthy is the lamb that was slain to receive power, and divinity, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and benediction from every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth._"[ ] [footnote : cor. v. .] [footnote : apoc. v. , .] upon the vanity of heathen philosophy. i was speaking on one occasion of the writings of seneca and of plutarch, praising them highly and saying that they had been my delight when young, our blessed father replied: "after having tasted the manna of the fathers and theologians, this is to hanker for the leeks and garlic of egypt." when i rejoined that these above mentioned writers furnished me with all that i could desire for instruction in morals, and that seneca seemed to me more like a christian author than a pagan, he said: "there i differ from you entirely. i consider that no spirit is more absolutely opposed to the spirit of christianity than that of seneca, and no more dangerous reading for a soul aiming at true piety can be found than his works." being much surprised at this opinion, and asking for an explanation, he went on to say: "this opposition between the two spirits comes from the fact that seneca would have us look for perfection within ourselves, whereas we must seek it outside ourselves, in god, that is to say, in the grace which god pours into our souls through the holy ghost. _not i, but the grace of god with me_.[ ] by this grace we are what we are. the spirit of seneca inflates the soul and puffs it up with pride, that of christianity rejects the knowledge which puffs up in order to embrace the charity which edifies. in short, there is the same difference between the spirit of seneca and the christian spirit that there is between virtues acquired by us, which are, therefore, dead, and virtues that are infused by god, which are, therefore, living. indeed, how could this philosopher, being destitute of the true faith, possess charity? and yet well we know that without charity all acquired virtues are unable to save us." [footnote : cor. xv. .] upon the pure love of our neighbour. our blessed father, in his twelfth conference, teaches how to love one's neighbour, for whom his own love was so pure and so unfeigned. "we must look upon all the souls of men as resting in the heart of our saviour. alas! they who regard their fellow-men in any other way run the risk of not loving them with purity, constancy, or impartiality. but beholding them in that divine resting place, who can do otherwise than love them, bear with them, and be patient with their imperfections? who dare call them irritating or troublesome? yes, my daughters, your neighbour is there in the heart of the saviour, and there so beloved and lovable that the divine lover dies for love of him." a truly charitable love of our neighbour is a rarer thing than one would think. it is like the few particles of gold which are found on the shores of the tagus, among masses of sand. hear what he says on this subject in the eighth of his spiritual conferences: "there are certain kinds of affection which appear very elevated and very perfect in the eyes of creatures, but which in the sight of god are of low degree and valueless. such are all friendships based, not only on true charity, which is god, but only on natural inclinations and human motives. "on the other hand, there are friendships which in the eyes of the world appear mean and despicable, but which in the sight of god have every excellence, because they are built up in god, and for god, without admixture of human interests. now acts of charity which are performed for those whom we love in this way are truly noble in their nature, and are, indeed, perfect acts, inasmuch as they tend purely to god, while the services which we render to those whom we love from natural inclination are of far less merit. generally speaking, we do these more for the sake of the great delight and satisfaction they cause us than for the love of god." he goes on to say: "the former kind of friendship is likewise inferior to the latter in that it is not lasting. its motive is so weak that when slighted or not responded to it easily grows cold, and finally disappears. far otherwise that affection which has its foundation in god, and therefore a motive which above all others is solid and abiding. "human affection is founded on the possession by the person we love of qualities which may be lost. it can, therefore, never be very secure. on the contrary, he who loves in god, and only in god, need fear no change, because god is always himself." again, speaking on this subject, our blessed father says: "all the other bonds which link hearts one to another are of glass, or jet; but the chain of holy charity is of gold and diamonds." in another place he remarks: "st. catherine of sienna illustrates the subject by means of a beautiful simile. 'if,' she says, 'you take a glass and fill it from a spring, and if while drinking from this glass you do not remove it from the spring, you may drink as much as you please without ever emptying the glass.' so it is with friendships: if we never withdraw them from their source they never dry up." upon bearing with one another. he laid great stress at all times on the duty of bearing with our neighbour, and thus obeying the commands of holy scripture, _bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of christ_,[ ] and the counsels of the apostle who so emphatically recommends this mutual support. "to-day mine, to-morrow thine." if to-day we put up with the ill-temper of our brother, to-morrow he will bear with our imperfections. we must in this life do like those who, walking on ice, give their hands to one another, so that if one slips, the other who has a firm foothold may support him. st. john the evangelist, towards the close of his life, exhorted his brethren not to deny one another this support, but to foster mutual charity, which prompts the christian to help his neighbour, and is one of the chiefest precepts of jesus christ, who, true lamb of god, endured, and carried on his shoulders, and on the wood of the cross, all our sins--an infinitely heavy burden, nor to be borne by any but him. the value set by our blessed father on this mutual support was marvellous, and he went so far as to look upon it as the crown of our perfection. he says on the subject to one who was very dear to him: "it is a great part of our perfection to bear with one another in our imperfections; for there is no better way of showing our own love for our neighbour." god will, in his mercy, bear with him who has mercifully borne with the defects of his neighbour. _forgive, and you shall be forgiven. give, and it shall be given to you. good measure of_ blessings, _and pressed down, and shaken together, and running over shall they give into your bosom_.[ ] [footnote : gal. vi. .] [footnote : st. luke vi. , .] upon fraternal correction. speaking, my dear sisters, as he often did, on the important subject of brotherly or friendly reproof, our blessed father made use of words profitable to us all, but especially to those who are in authority, and have therefore to rule and guide others. he said: "truth which is not charitable proceeds from a charity which is not true." when i asked him how we could feel certain that our reproofs were given out of sincere charity, he answered: "when we speak the truth only for the love of god, and for the good of our neighbour, whom we are reproving." he added: "we must follow the counsels of the great apostle st. paul, when he bids us reprove in a spirit of meekness.[ ] "indeed gentleness is the intimate friend of charity and its inseparable companion." this is what st. paul means when he says that charity is _kind_, and _beareth all things_, and _endureth all things_.[ ] god, who is charity, guides the mild in judgment and teaches the meek. his way, his spirit, is not in the whirlwind, nor in the storm, nor in the tempest, nor in the voice of many waters; but in a gentle and whispering wind. _mildness is come upon us_, says the royal psalmist, _and we shall be corrected_.[ ] again blessed francis advised us to imitate the good samaritan, who poured oil and wine into the wounds of the poor wayfarer fallen among thieves.[ ] he used to say that "to make a good salad you want more oil than either vinegar or salt." i will give you some more of his memorable sayings on this subject. many a time i have heard them from his own lips: "always be as gentle as you can, and remember that more flies are caught with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred barrels of vinegar. if we _must_ err in one direction or the other, let it be in that of gentleness. no sauce was ever spoilt by too much sugar. the human mind is so constituted that it rebels against harshness, but becomes perfectly tractable under gentle treatment. a mild word cools the heat of anger, as water extinguishes fire. there is no soil so ungrateful as not to bear fruit when a kindly hand cultivates it. to tell our neighbour wholesome truths tenderly is to throw red roses rather than red-hot coals in his face. how could we be angry with any one who pelted us with pearls or deluged us with rose water! there is nothing more bitter than a green walnut, but when preserved in sugar there is nothing sweeter or more digestible. reproof is by nature harsh and biting, but confectioned in sweetness and warmed through and through in the fire of charity, it becomes salutary, pleasant, and even delightful. _the just will correct me with mercy, and the oil of the flatterer shall not anoint my head_.[ ] _better are the wounds of a friend than the kisses of the hypocrite_;[ ] if the sharpness of the friend's tongue pierce me it is only as the lancet of the surgeon, which probes the abscess and lacerates in order to heal." "but (i replied) truth is always truth in whatever language it may be couched, and in whatever sense it may be taken." in support of this assertion i quoted the words spoken by st. paul to timothy: _preach the word; be instant in season, out of season, reprove, entreat, rebuke in all patience and doctrine; but, according to their own desires, they will heap to themselves teachers having itching ears, and will, indeed, turn away their hearing from the truth, but will be turned into fables._[ ] our blessed father replied: "the whole force of that apostolic lesson lies in the phrase: _in all patience and doctrine_. doctrine signifies truth, and this truth must be spoken with patience. when i use the word patience, i am trying to put before you an attitude of mind which is not one of confident expectation, that truth will always meet with a hearty welcome, and even some degree of acclamation; but an attitude of mind which is on the contrary prepared to meet with repulse, reprobation, rejection. "surely, seeing that the son of god was set for a sign of contradiction, we cannot be surprised if his doctrine, which is the truth, is marked with the same seal! surprised! nay, of necessity it must be so. "consider the many false constructions and murmurings to which the sacred truths preached by our saviour during his life on earth were exposed! "was not this one of the reproaches addressed by him to the jews: _if i say the truth you believe me not._ "was not our lord himself looked upon as an impostor, a seditious person, a blasphemer, one possessed by the devil? did they not even take up stones to cast at him? yet, he cursed not those who cursed him; but repaid their maledictions with blessings, possessing his soul in patience." blessed francis wrote to me on this same subject a letter, which has since been printed among his works, in which he expressed himself as follows: "everyone who wishes to instruct others in the way of holiness must be prepared to bear with their injustice and unreasonableness, and to be rewarded with ingratitude. oh! how happy will you be when men slander you, and say all manner of evil of you, hating the truth which you offer them. rejoice with much joy, for so much the greater is your reward in heaven. it is a royal thing to be calumniated for having done well, and to be stoned in a good cause." [footnote : gal. vi. .] [footnote : cor. xiii. , .] [footnote : psalm lxxxix. ] [footnote : st. luke x. .] [footnote : psalm cxl. .] [footnote : prov. xxvii. .] [footnote : tim. iv. , .] upon finding excuses for the faults of our fellow-men. i was one day complaining to him of certain small land-owners, who having nothing but their gentle birth to boast of, and being as poor as job, yet set up as great noblemen, and even as princes, boasting of their high birth, of their genealogy, and of the glorious deeds of their ancestors. i quoted the saying of the wise man, that he hated, among other things, with a perfect hatred the poor proud man, adding that i entirely agreed with him. to boast in the multitude of our riches is natural, but to be vain in our poverty is beyond understanding. he answered me thus: "what would you have? do you want these poor people to be doubly poor, like sick physicians, who, the more they know about their disease the more disconsolate they are? at all events, if they are rich in honours they will think the less of their poverty, and will behave perhaps like that young athenian, who in his madness considered himself the richest person in his neighbourhood, and being cured of his mental weakness through the kind intervention of his friends, had them arraigned before the judges, and condemned to give him back his pleasant illusion. what would you have, i repeat? it is in the very nature of nobility to meet the rebuffs of fortune with a cheerful courage; like the palm-tree which lifts itself up under its burden. would to god they had no greater failing than this! it is against that wretched and detestable habit of fighting duels that we ought to raise our voice." saying this, he gave a profound sigh. a certain lady had been guilty of a most serious fault, committed, indeed, through mere weakness of character, but none the less scandalous in the extreme. our blessed father, being informed of what had happened, and having every kind of vehement invective against the unfortunate person poured into his ears, only said: "human misery! human misery!" and again, "ah! how we are encompassed with infirmity! what can we do of ourselves, but fail? we should, perhaps, do worse than this if god did not hold us by the right hand, and guide us to his will." at last, weary of fencing thus, he faced the battle, and the comments on this unhappy fall becoming ever sharper and more emphatic, exclaimed: "oh! happy fault, of what great good will it not be the cause![ ] this lady's soul would have perished with many others had she not lost herself. her loss will be her gain, and the gain of many others." some of those who heard this prediction merely shrugged their shoulders. nevertheless, it was verified. the sinning soul returned to give glory to god, and the community which she had scandalized was greatly edified by her conversion and subsequent good example. this story reminds me of the words used by the church in one of her offices. words in which she calls the sin of adam thrice happy, since because of it the redeemer came down to our earth--a fortunate malady, since it brought us the visit of so great a physician. "even sins," says our blessed father, in one of his letters, "work together for good to those who truly repent of them." [footnote : office for holy saturday.] upon not judging others. men see the exterior; god alone sees the heart, and knows the inmost thoughts of all. our blessed father used to say that the soul of our neighbour was that tree of the knowledge of good and evil which we are forbidden to touch under pain of severe chastisement; because god has reserved to himself the judgment of each individual soul. _who art thou_, says sacred scripture, _who judgest thy brother?_ knowest thou that _wherein thou judgest another thou condemnest thyself_?[ ] who has given thee the hardihood to take upon thyself the office of him who has received from the eternal father all judgment? that is to say, all power of judging in heaven and on earth? he observed that a want of balance of mind, very common among men, leads them to judge of what they do not know, and not to judge of what they do know. they, as st. jude declares, _blaspheme in what they know not, and corrupt themselves in what they know_.[ ] they are blind to what passes in their own homes, but preternaturally clear-sighted to all happening in the houses of others. now what is this that a man knows not at all? surely, the heart; the secret thoughts of his neighbour. and yet how eager is he to dip the fingers of his curiosity in this covered dish reserved for the great master. and what is it that a man knows best of all, or at least ought to know? surely, his own heart; his own secret thoughts. nevertheless, he fears to enter into himself, and to stand in his own presence as a criminal before his judge. he dreads above aught besides the implacable tribunal of his own conscience, itself alone more surely convicting than a thousand witnesses. our blessed father pictures very vividly this kind of injustice in his philothea, where he says: "it is equally necessary in order to escape being judged that we both judge ourselves, and that we refrain from judging others. our lord forbids the latter[ ] and his apostle commands the former. if we would judge ourselves we should not be judged.[ ] our way is the very reverse. what is forbidden to us we are continually doing. judging our neighbour on all possible occasions, and what is commanded us, namely, to judge ourselves, that the last thing we think of."[ ] "a certain woman" (blessed francis continued with a smile), "all her life long had on principle done exactly the contrary to what her husband wanted her to do. in the end she fell into a river and was drowned. her husband tried to recover the body, but was found fault with for going up the stream, since she must, necessarily, float down with the current. 'and do you really imagine,' he exclaimed, 'that even her dead body could do anything else but contradict me?' we are, most of us, very like that woman," said the saint. "yet it is written: _judge not, and you shall not be judged; condemn not, and you shall not be condemned._"[ ] how, then, you will say, is it lawful to have judges and courts of justice, since man may not judge our neighbour? i answer this objection in blessed francis' own words: "but may we, then, under no circumstances judge our neighbour? under no circumstances whatever--for in a court of justice it is god, philothea, not man, who judges and pronounces sentence. it is true that he makes use of the voice of the magistrate, but only to render his own sentence audible to us. earthly judges are his spokesmen and interpreters, nor ought they to decide anything but as they have learnt from him of whom they are the oracles. it is when they do otherwise, and follow the lead of their own passions, that they, and not god, judge, and that consequently they themselves will be judged. in fact, it is forbidden to men, _as_ men, to judge others.[ ] this is why scripture gives the name of gods[ ] to judges, because when judging they hold the place of god, and moses for that reason is called the god of pharaoh."[ ] you ask if we are forbidden to entertain doubts about our neighbour when founded on good and strong reasons. i answer we are not so forbidden, because to suspend judgment is not to judge, but only to take a step towards it. we must, nevertheless, beware of being thereby hurried on to form a hasty judgment, for that is the rock on which so many make shipwreck; that is the flare of the torch in which so many thoughtless moths singe their tiny wings. in order that we may avoid this danger he gives us an excellent maxim, one which is not only useful, but necessary to us. it is that, however many aspects an action may have, the one we should dwell upon should be that which is the best. if it is impossible to excuse an action, we can at least modify our blame of it by excusing the intention, or we may lay the blame on the violence of the temptation, or impute it to ignorance, or to the being taken by surprise, or to human weakness, so as at least to try to lessen the scandal of it. if you are told that by doing this you are blessing the unrighteous and seeking excuses for sin, you may reply that without either praising or excusing his sin you can be merciful to the sinner. you may add that judgment without mercy will be the lot of those who have no pity for the misfortunes or the infirmities of their brother, and who in him despise their own flesh. we all are brethren, all of one flesh. in fact, as says our blessed father, those who look well after their own consciences rarely fall into the sin of rash judgment. to judge rashly is proper to slothful souls, which, because they never busy themselves with their own concerns, have leisure to devote their energies to finding fault with others. an ancient writer expresses this well. men who are curious in their inquiries into the lives of others are mostly careless about correcting their own faults. the virtuous man is like the sky, of which the stars are, as it were, the eyes turned in upon itself. [footnote : rom. ii. .] [footnote : st. jude .] [footnote : st. matt. vii. .] [footnote : cor. xi. .] [footnote : _the devout life_, part iii. .] [footnote : st. luke vi. .] [footnote : _the devout life_, part iii. .] [footnote : psalm lxxxi. , .] [footnote : exod. vii. .] upon judging ourselves. "we do," as blessed francis has said, "exactly the reverse of what the gospel bids us do. the gospel commands us to judge ourselves severely and exactly, while it forbids us to judge our brethren. if we did judge ourselves, we should not be judged by god, because, forestalling his judgment and confessing our faults, we should escape his condemnation. on the other hand, who are we that we should judge our brethren, the servants of another? to their own master they rise or fall. "let us not judge before the time until the lord shall reveal what is hidden in darkness and pierce the wall of the temple to show what passes therein. man judges by appearances only. god alone sees the heart; and it is by that which is within that true judgment is made of that which is without. "so rash are we in our judgments that we as often as not seize the firebrand by the burning end; that is, we condemn ourselves while in the very act of rebuking others. the reproach of the gospel, _physician, heal thyself_,[ ] we may take to ourselves. so also that other, _why seest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, and seest not the beam that is in thy own eye_?[ ] to notice which way we are going is the first condition of our walking in the right way, according to the words of david, _i have thought on my ways, and turned my feet unto thy testimonies_.[ ] so, on the other hand, we go astray if we do not pay attention to the path we are following. judge not others and you will not be judged; judge yourselves, and god will have mercy on you." [footnote : st. luke iv. ] [footnote : st. matt. vii. ] [footnote : psalm cxviii. ] upon slander and detraction. there is a difference between uttering a falsehood and making a mistake--for to lie is to say what one knows or believes to be false; but to mistake is to say, indeed, what is false, but what one nevertheless thinks in good faith to be true. similarly, there is a great difference between slandering our neighbour and recounting his evil deeds. the wrong doing of our neighbour may be spoken of either with a good or with a bad intention. the intention is good when the faults of our neighbour are reported to one who can remedy them, or whose business it is to correct the wrong-doer, whether for the public good or for the sinner's own. again, there is no harm in speaking among friends of harm done, provided it be from friendliness, benevolence, or compassion; and this more especially when the fault is public and notorious. we slander our neighbour, then, only when, whether true or false, we recount his misdeeds with intention to harm him, or out of hatred, envy, anger, contempt, and from a wish to take away his fair name. we slander our neighbour when we make known his faults, though neither obliged so to do nor having in view his good nor the good of others. the sin of slander is mortal or venial according to the measure of the wrong we may thereby have done to our neighbour. our blessed father used to say that to do away with slander would be to do away with most of the sins of mankind. he was right, for of sins of thought, word, and deed, the most frequent and often the most hurtful in their effects are those committed with the tongue. and this for several reasons. firstly, sins of thought are only hurtful to him who commits them. they are neither occasion for scandal, nor do they annoy anyone, nor give anyone bad example. god alone knows them, and it is he alone who is offended by them. then, too, a return to god by loving repentance effaces them in a moment, and heals the wound which they have inflicted on the heart. sins of the tongue, on the other hand, are not so readily got rid of. a harmful word can only be recalled by retracting it, and even then the minds of our hearers mostly remain infected with the poison we poured in through the ears; and this, in spite of our humbling ourselves to recall what we have said. secondly, sins of deed, when they are publicly known, are followed by punishment. this renders them rarer, because fear of the penalty acts as a curb on even the basest of mankind. but slander (except the calumny be of the most atrocious and aggravated kind) is not, generally speaking, such as comes before the eye of the law. on the contrary, if in the guise of bantering it is ingenious and subtle it passes current for gallantry and wit. this is why so many people fall into this evil; for, says an ancient writer: "impunity is a dainty allurement to sin." thirdly, slandering finds encouragement in the very small amount of restitution and reparation made for this fault. indeed, in my opinion, those who direct souls in the tribunal of penance are a little too indulgent, not to say lax, in this matter. if anyone has inflicted a bodily injury on another see how severely the justice of the law punishes the outrage. in olden days the law of retaliation demanded an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. if a man stole the goods of another he was condemned to the galleys, or even to the gibbet. but in the case of slander, unless, as i have said, it be of the most highly aggravated kind, there is scarcely a thought of making reparation, even by a courteous apology. yet those who sit in high places value their reputation much more than riches, or life itself, seeing that among all natural blessings, honour undoubtedly holds the first rank. since, then, we cannot gain admittance into heaven without having restored that which belongs to another, let the slanderer consider how he can possibly hope for an entrance there unless he re-establishes his neighbour's reputation, which he tried to destroy by detraction. upon hasty judgments. our blessed father insisted most earnestly upon the difference which exists between a vice and sin, reproving those who spoke of a person who had committed one or more grave faults as vicious. "virtuous habits," he would say, "not being destroyed by one act contrary to them, a man cannot be branded as intemperate because he has once been guilty of intemperance." thus when he heard anyone condemned as bad because he had committed a bad act, he took pains with his accustomed gentleness to modify the charge by making a distinction between _vice_ and _sin_, the former being a habit, the latter an isolated act. "vice," he said, "is a habit, sin, the outcome of that habit; and just as one swallow does not make a summer, so one act of sin does not make a person vicious. that is to say, it does not render him a sinner in the sense of being steeped in and wholly given over to the dominion of the particular vice, the act of which he has committed once, or even more than once." being asked whether in conformity with this principle it would not be equally wrong to praise anyone for a single act of virtue, as if that virtue were his or her constant habit, he replied: "you must remember that we are forbidden to judge our neighbour in the matter of the evil which he may appear to do, but not in the good. on the contrary, we may and should suppose that he has the good habit from which the act seen by us naturally springs. nor can we err in such a supposition, since the very perfection of charity consists in its excess. but when we judge evil of others, our tongue is like the lancet in the surgeon's hand, and you know how careful he must be not to pierce an artery in opening a vein. we must only judge from what we see. we may say that a man has blasphemed and sworn, if we have heard him do so; but we may not in that account alone say that he is a blasphemer; that is, that he has contracted the habit of blasphemy, substituting the vice for the sin." the objection was raised that it would follow that we must never attempt to judge whether a person is or is not in a state of grace, however holy his life may seem to be; since no one knows whether he is worthy of love or of hate, and least of all we, who know our neighbour far less intimately than he knows himself. to this he replied, that if faith, according to st. james, is known by its works,[ ] much more is charity so known, since it is a more active virtue, its works being the sparks from seeing which we learn that its fire is still burning somewhere. and though when we saw a sin, which is undoubtedly mortal, being committed, we might have said that the sinner was no longer in a state of grace, how do we know that a moment afterwards god may not have touched his heart, and that he may not have been converted from his evil ways by an act of contrition? this is why we must always fear to judge evil of others, but as regards judging well, we are free to do so as much as we please. charity grows more and more by hoping all good of its neighbour, by thinking no evil, by rejoicing in truth and goodness, but not in iniquity. [footnote : st. james ii. , .] upon ridiculing one's neighbour. when in company he heard anyone being turned into ridicule, he always showed by his countenance that the conversation displeased him, and would try to turn the subject by introducing some other. when unsuccessful in this he would give the signal to cease, as is done in tournaments when the combatants are becoming too heated, and thus put a stop to the combat, crying: "this is too much! this is trampling too violently on the good man! this is altogether going beyond bounds! who gives us the right to amuse ourselves thus at the expense of another? how should we like to be talked about like this, and to have our little weaknesses brought out, just to amuse anybody who may chance to hear? to put up with our neighbour and his imperfections is a great perfection, but it is a great imperfection to laugh at him and his short-comings." he expresses himself to philothea on the same subject as follows: "a tendency to ridicule and mock at others is one of the worst possible conditions of mind. god hates this vice exceedingly, as he has often shown by the strange punishments which have awaited it. nothing is so contrary to charity, and still more so to devotion, as contempt and disparagement of our neighbour. now derision and ridicule are always simply contempt, so that the learned are justified in saying that to mock at our neighbour is the worst kind of injury that we can by mere word inflict on him; because all other words of disparagement are compatible with some degree of esteem for the person injured, but ridicule is essentially the expression of contempt and disdain."[ ] now holy scripture pronounces woe upon those who despise others, and threatens them with being despised themselves. god always takes the part of the despised against the despiser. our lord says: _he who despises you, despises me_;[ ] and speaking of little children, _take heed that you despise not one of them_.[ ] and almighty god in comforting moses for an insult offered to the great law-giver by the children of israel, says: _they have not despised you, but me_. on one occasion when blessed francis was present some young lady in the company was ridiculing another who was conspicuously ill-favoured. defects born with her were what were being laughed over. he gently reminded the speaker that it is god who has made us and not we ourselves and that all his works are perfect. but the latter assertion only making her jeer the more, he ended by saying: "believe me, i know for a fact her soul is more upright, more beautiful, and better formed than you can possibly have any conception of." this silenced her and sent her away abashed. on another occasion he heard some people laughing at a poor hump-back who was absent at the time. our blessed father instantly took up his defence, quoting again those words of scripture: _the works of god are perfect_. "what!" exclaimed one of the company. "perfect! and yet deformed!" blessed francis replied pleasantly: "and do you really think that there cannot be perfect hunchbacks, just as much as others are perfect because gracefully made and straight as a dart!" in fine, when they tried to make him explain what perfection he meant, whether outward or inward, he said: "enough. what i tell you is true; let us talk of something better." [footnote : _the devout life_, part iii. c. .] [footnote : luke x. .] [footnote : matt. xviii. .] upon contradicting others. there is no kind of disposition more displeasing to men than one which is obstinate and contradictory. people of this sort are pests of conversation, firebrands in social intercourse, sowers of discord. like hedgehogs and horse-chestnuts, they have prickles all over them, and cannot be handled. on the other hand, a gentle, pliable, condescending disposition, which is ready to give way to others, is a living charm. it is like the honeycomb which attracts every sort of fly; it becomes everybody's master, because it makes itself everybody's servant; being all things to all men, it wins them all. people of a peevish, morose disposition soon find themselves left alone in a mighty solitude; they are avoided like thistles which prick whoever touches them. our blessed father always spoke with the highest praise of the dictum of st. louis, that we should never speak evil of anyone, unless when by our silence we should seem to hold with him in his wrong-doing, and so give scandal to others. the holy king did not inculcate this from motives of worldly prudence, which he detested; nor was he following the maxim of that pagan emperor, who declared that no one, in quitting the presence of his sovereign, should ever be suffered to go away dissatisfied, a saying dictated by cunning and with the object of teaching his fellow-potentates to win men by fair words. no, st. louis was travelling by a very different road, and spoke in a truly christian spirit, desiring only to hinder disputes and contentions, and to follow the advice of st. paul, who wishes that we should _avoid contentions and strivings_.[ ] but if, when it is in our power to do so, we do not openly condemn the fault or error of another, will not that be a sort of connivance at, and consequently a participation in, the wrong-doing? our blessed father answers that difficulty thus: "when it is a question of contradicting another, and of setting your opinion against his, it must be done with the utmost gentleness and tact, and without any desire to wound the feelings of the other; for nothing is gained by taking things ill-temperedly." if you irritate a horse by teasing him he will, if he has any mettle, take the bit between his teeth and carry you just where he pleases. but when you slacken the rein he stops and becomes tractable. so it is with the mind of another; if you force it to assent, you humble it; if you humble it, you irritate it; if you irritate it, you utterly lose hold of it. the mind may be persuaded; it cannot be constrained; to force it to believe is to force it from all belief. _is mildness come upon us_? says david; _then are we corrected_.[ ] the spirit of god, gentle and sweet, is in the soft refreshing zephyrs, not in the whirlwind, nor in the tempest. it is god's enemy, the devil, who is called a spirit of contradiction; and such human beings as imitate him share his title. [footnote : titus iii. .] [footnote : psalm lxxxix. .] upon loving our enemies. some one having complained to blessed francis of the difficulty he found in obeying the christian precept commanding us to love our enemies, he replied: "as for me, i know not how my heart is made, or how it happens that god seems to have been pleased to give me lately altogether a new one. certain it is that i not only find no difficulty in practising this precept; but i take such pleasure in doing it, and experience so peculiar and delightful a sweetness in it, that if god had forbidden me to love my enemies i should have had great difficulty in obeying him. "it seems to me that the very contradiction and opposition we meet with from our fellow-men, ought to rouse our spirit to love them more, for they serve as a whetstone to sharpen our virtue. "aloes make honey seem sweeter; and wine has a more delicious flavour if we drink it after having eaten bitter almonds. it is true that mostly a little conflict and struggle goes on in our minds: but in the end it will surely come to pass with us what the psalmist commands when he says: _be angry and sin not._[ ] "what! shall we not bear with those whom god himself bears with? we who have ever before our eyes the great example of jesus christ on the cross praying for his enemies. and then, too, our enemies have not crucified us; they have not persecuted us, even to death; we have not yet resisted unto blood. "again, who would not love this dear enemy for whom jesus christ prayed? for whom he died? for, mark it well, he prayed not only for those who crucified him, but also for those who persecute us, and him in us. as he testified to saul when he cried out to him: _why persecutest thou me_?[ ] that is to say, me in my members. "we are not, indeed, obliged to love the vices of our enemy; his hatred of good, the enmity which he bears us; for all these things are displeasing to god, whom they offend; but we must separate the sin from the sinner, the precious from the vile, if we desire to be like our saviour." he did not admit the maxim of the world: "we must not trust a reconciled enemy." in his opinion the exact contrary of this dictum is more in accordance with truth. he used to say that "fallings out" in the case of friends only serve to draw the bonds of friendship closer, just as the smith makes use of water to increase the heat of his fire. he added, as a well-known fact in surgery, that the callosity which forms over a fractured bone is so dense that the limb will never break again at that particular place. indeed, when a reconciliation has taken place between two persons hitherto at variance, it is almost certain that each will set to work, perhaps even unconsciously, to make the newly-cemented friendship firmer. the offender by avoiding further offence, and atoning as far as possible for what is past, and the offended person by endeavouring in a truly generous spirit to bury that past in oblivion. [footnote : psalm iv. .] [footnote : acts ix. .] upon forgiving our enemies. on the subject of the forgiveness of enemies, blessed francis told me of an incident which occurred at padua (possibly at the time that he was studying there). it appears that certain of the students at that university had a bad habit of prowling about the streets at night, pistol in hand, challenging passers-by with the cry of "who goes there?" and firing if they did not receive a humble and civil answer. one of the gang having one night challenged a fellow-student and received no answer, fired, and took such good aim that the poor young man fell dead on the pavement. horrified and amazed at the fatal result of his mad prank, the student fled, hoping to hide from justice. the first open door that he saw was that of the dwelling of a good widow, whose son was his friend and fellow-student. hastily entering, he implored her to hide him in some safe place, confessing what he had done, and that, should he be taken, all was over with him. the good woman shut him into a little room, secret and safe, and there left him. not many minutes had elapsed before a melancholy procession approached, and the dead body of her son was brought into the house, the bearers telling the distracted mother in what manner he had been killed, and after a little questioning, giving the name of the youth who had shot her child. weeping and broken-hearted, she hurried to the place where she had hidden the wretched homicide, and it was from her lips that he learned who it was that he had deprived of life. in an agony of shame and grief, tearing his hair, and calling upon death to strike him down, too, he threw himself on his knees before the poor mother; not, indeed, to ask her pardon, but to entreat her to give him up to justice, wishing to expiate publicly a crime so barbarous. the widow, a most devout and merciful woman, was deeply touched by the youth's repentance, and saw clearly that it was thoughtlessness and not malicious intent that had been the moving spring of the deed. she then assured him that, provided he would ask pardon of god and change his way of life, she would keep her promise and help him to escape. this she did, and by so doing imitated the gentle kindness of the prophet who spared the lives of the syrian soldiers who had come to murder him, he having them in his power in the midst of samaria.[ ] so pleasing to god was this poor widow's clemency and forgiveness that he permitted the soul of her murdered son to appear to her, revealing to her that her pardon, granted so readily and sweetly to the man who had unintentionally been his murderer, had obtained for his soul deliverance from purgatory, in which place he would otherwise have been long detained. how blessed are the merciful! they shall obtain mercy both for themselves and for others! [footnote : reg. vi. . ] upon the virtue of condescension. i will give you our blessed father's views on this subject, first reminding you how unfailingly patient he was with the humours of others, how gentle and forbearing at all times towards his neighbour, and how perseveringly he inculcated the practice of this virtue, not only upon the daughters of the visitation, but upon all his spiritual children. he often said to me: "oh, how much better it would be to accommodate ourselves to others rather than to want to bend every one to our own ways and opinions! the human mind is like pulp, which takes readily any colour mixed with it. the great thing is to take care that it be not like the chameleon, which, one after the other, takes every colour except white. condescension, if unaccompanied by frankness and purity, is dangerous, and much to be avoided. "it is right to take compassion upon sinners, but it must be with the intention of extricating them from the mire, not of slothfully leaving them to rot and perish in it. it is a perverted sort of mercy to look at our neighbour, sunk in the misery of sin, and not venture to extend to him the helping hand of a gentle but out-spoken remonstrance. we must condescend in everything, but only up to the altar steps; that is to say, not beyond the point at which condescension would be a sin, and undeserving of its name. i do not say that we must at every instant reprove the sinner. charitable prudence demands that we rather wait the moment when he is capable of assimilating the remedies suitable for his malady, and till god shall _give to his hearing joy and gladness, and the bones that have been humbled shall rejoice_.[ ] turbulent zeal, zeal that is neither moderate nor wise, pulls down in place of building up. there are some who do no good at all, because they wish to do things too well, and who spoil everything they try to mend. we must make haste slowly, as the ancient proverb says. he who walks hurriedly is apt to fall. we must be prudent both in reproving others and in condescending to them. _the king's honour loveth judgment._"[ ] [footnote : psalm l. .] [footnote : psalm xcviii. .] how blessed francis adapted himself to times, places, and circumstances. when the chablais was restored to the duke of savoy, bishop de granier, the predecessor of our holy founder, eager to further the design of his highness to bring back into the bosom of the roman church the population that had been led astray, sent to it a number of labourers to gather in the harvest. among these, one of the first to be chosen was our saint, at that time provost of the cathedral church of st. peter in geneva, and consequently next in dignity to the bishop. with him were sent some canons, parish priests, and others. several members of various religious orders also presented themselves, eager to be employed in this onerous, if honourable, mission.[ ] it would be impossible to give a just idea of the labours of these missionaries, or of the obstacles which they encountered at the outset of their holy enterprise. the spirit of blessed francis was, however, most flexible and accommodating, and greatly tended to further the work of the people's conversion. he was like the manna which assimilated itself to the palate of whoever tasted it: he made himself all things to all men that he might gain all for jesus christ. in his ordinary mode of conversation and in his dress, which was mean and common, he produced a much less jarring effect upon the minds and eyes of these people than did the members of religious orders with their various habits and diversities. he, as well as the secular priests who worked under him, sometimes even condescended so far as to wear the short cloaks and high boots usual in the country, so as more easily to gain access to private houses, and not to offend the eyes of the people by the sight of the cassock, which they were unaccustomed to. to this pious stratagem the members of religious orders were unwilling to have recourse, their distinctive habit being, in their opinion, almost essential to their profession, or at least so fitting that it might never lawfully be laid aside. our blessed father went on quite a different tack, and caught more flies with a spoonful of the honey which he was so much in the habit of using, than did all the others with their harsher methods. everything about him, whether external or internal, breathed the spirit of conciliation; all his words, gestures, and ways were those of kindliness. some wished to make themselves feared; but he desired only to be loved, and to enter men's hearts through the doorway of affection. on this account, whether he spoke in public or in private, he was always more attentively listened to than anyone else. however much the protestants might attack him and purposely provoke him, he, on his side, ever dealt with them in a spirit absolutely free from contention, abstaining from anything likely to give offence, having often on his lips those beautiful words of the apostle: _if any man seem to be contentious, we have no such custom, nor the church of god._[ ] to come now to the particulars which i promised you, let me tell you how our blessed father, having read in st. augustine's works and in those of other ancient fathers that in the early centuries christian priests, in addressing heretics and schismatics, did not hesitate to call them their brethren, inferred that he might quite lawfully follow so great an example. by doing so he conciliated these people to such an extent that they flocked to hear him, and were charmed with the sweetness and gentleness of his discourses, the outcome of his overflowing kindliness of heart. this mode of expression was, however, so offensive to preachers who were in the habit of speaking of heretics as rebels against the light, uncircumcised of heart, etc., that they called a meeting, in which they resolved to remonstrate with the provost (blessed francis), and to represent to him that, though he meant well, he was in reality ruining the cause of catholics. they insisted that he was flattering the pride so inherent in heresy, that he was lulling the people to sleep in their errors by sewing pillows to their elbows; that it was better to correct them in mercy and justice than to pour on their heads the oil of wheedling, as they called the kindliness of our saint. he received their remonstrances pleasantly, and even respectfully, without defending himself in any way, but, on the contrary, appearing to yield to their zeal, albeit somewhat sadly and unwillingly. finding, however, that he did not begin to act upon their suggestions, as they had promised themselves he would do, some of them sent a written appeal to the bishop, representing to him that he would have to recall the provost and his companion missioners, who with their unwise and affected levity ruined in one day more souls than they themselves could convert in a month. they went on to compare the labour of the missioners to penelope's web: to say that our saint preached more like a huguenot pastor than a catholic priest, and, in fine, that he went so far as to call the heretics his brethren, a thing so scandalous that the protestants had already conceived great hope of bringing him over to their own party. the good bishop, however, better informed as to the real state of the case, paid little heed to this appeal, dictated by a bitter zeal, rather than by the true science of the saints. he merely exhorted each one to persevere, and to remember that every spirit should praise the lord according to the talents committed to it by god. our blessed father, being informed of these complaints made against him to his bishop, would not defend himself, but commended his cause to the judgment of god, and, silently but hopefully, awaited the result. nor was his expectation disappointed, for experience soon showed that the too ardent eagerness of these zealots was more likely to delay than to advance the work. to crown all this, the preachers who had objected to his method had ere long themselves to be set aside as unfit. on one occasion when i was talking with him and had turned the conversation on this subject, he said to me: "these good people looked through coloured spectacles. they saw all things of the same hue as their own glasses. my predecessor soon found out who were the real hindrances to the conversion of the protestant cantons." on my asking him how he could in reason apply the term "brethren" to persons who certainly are not such, since no one can have god for his father who has not the catholic church for his mother, and since, therefore, those who are not in her bosom cannot be our brethren, he said to me: "ah! but i never call them brethren without adding the epithet _erring_, a word which marks the distinction with sufficient clearness. "besides, they are in fact our brethren by baptism, which they duly administer and receive. moreover, they are our brethren according to the flesh, for are we not all children of adam? then, too, we are fellow citizens, and subjects of the same earthly prince. is not that enough to constitute a kind of fraternity between us? "lastly, i look upon them as children of the church, at least in disposition, since they are willing to be instructed; and as my brethren in hope, since they also are called to inherit eternal life. in the early days of the church it was customary to give the title of brethren to catechumens, even before their baptism." these reasons satisfied me and made me esteem highly the ingenious method suggested to him by the holy spirit to render these unruly and untaught souls docile and tractable. [footnote : m. camus must have been misinformed. st. francis had but few fellow-workers in the early years of his mission in the chablais. [ed.]] [footnote : cor. xi. .] upon the deference due to our inferiors and dependents. blessed francis not only taught, but practised deference and a certain obedience towards his inferiors; towards his flock, towards his fellow citizens, and even towards his servants. he obeyed his body servant in what concerned his rising, his going to bed, and his toilet, as if he himself had been the valet and the other the master. when he sat up far into the night either to study or to write letters, he would beg his servant to go to bed, for fear of tiring him by keeping him up. the man would grumble at his request, as if he were being taken for a lazy, sleepy-headed fellow. our blessed father patiently put up with grumblings of the sort, but would complete what he had in hand as quickly as possible, so as not to keep the man waiting. one summer morning blessed francis awoke very early, and, having some important matter on his mind, called this servant to bring him some necessaries for his toilet. the man, however, was too sound asleep to be roused by his master's voice. the good prelate therefore, on rising, looked into the adjoining room, thinking that the man must have left it, but finding him fast asleep, and fearing to do him harm by waking him suddenly, dressed without his assistance and betook himself to his prayers, studies, and writing. later the servant awoke, and dressed, and, coming to his master's room, to his surprise found him deep in his studies. the man asked him abruptly how he had managed without him. "i fetched everything myself," replied the holy prelate. "am i not old enough and strong enough for that?" "would it have been too much trouble to call me?" said the man grumblingly. "no, indeed, my child," said blessed francis, "and i assure you that i did call you several times; but at last, thinking that you must have gone out, i got up to see where you were, and, finding you sleeping profoundly, i had not the heart to wake you." "you have the heart, it seems, to turn me into ridicule," retorted the man. "oh, no, my friend," said francis. "i was only telling you what happened, without a thought of either blaming you or making fun of you. come, i promise you that for the future i will never stop calling you till you awake." upon the way to treat servants. his opinion was that masters, as a rule, commit many grave faults with regard to their servants, by treating them with harshness and severity. such conduct is quite unworthy of christians, and, in them, worse even than the behaviour of pagans in olden times to their slaves. he himself never uttered an angry or threatening word to any one of his domestics. when they committed a fault, he corrected them so mildly that they were ready at once to make amends and to do better, out of love to their good master rather than from fear of him. once, when i was talking to him on this subject, i quoted the saying that "familiarity breeds contempt, and contempt hatred." "yes," he said, "improper familiarity, but never civil, cordial, kindly, virtuous familiarity; for as that proceeds from love, love engenders its like, and true love is never without esteem, nor, consequently, without respect for the object loved, seeing that love is founded wholly on the estimation in which the thing or person beloved is held. you know the saying of the ancient tyrant: _let them hate me, provided that they fear me_. speaking on this subject, we may well reverse the motto and say: _let them despise me, provided only that they love me_. for if this contempt produces love, love after a while will stifle contempt, and sooner or later will in its place put respect; since there is no one that one reverences more, or has a greater fear of offending, than a person whom one loves in truth and sincerity of heart." with regard to this, he told me a story, which he alludes to in his philothea. blessed elzéar, comte d'arian, in provence, was so exceedingly gentle in his treatment of his servants that they looked upon him as a person positively deficient in understanding, and behaved in his presence with the greatest incivility and insolence, knowing well his persevering tolerance of injuries and his boundless patience. his wife, the saintly delphina, feeling more acutely than he the disrespectful conduct of their servants, complained of it to him, saying that the menials absolutely laughed in his face. "and if they do," he answered, "why should i be put out by these little familiarities, pleasantries, and bursts of merriment, seeing that i am quite certain they do not hate me? they have not yet struck me, spat in my face, or offered me any of those indignities which jesus christ our lord suffered at the hands of the high priest's servants, and not alone from those who scourged him, derided him, and crucified him. is it fitting that i, who glory in being the servant of jesus christ crucified, should desire to be better treated than my master? does it become a member to complain of any hardship under a head wearing no crown but one of thorns? all that you tell me is but a mere jest compared with the insults heaped upon our divine lord. the contempt of my servants--if, indeed, they do despise me--is a splendid lesson, teaching me to despise myself. how shall we practise humility if not on such occasions as these?" our blessed father went on to say: "i have proposed this example rather for your admiration than for your imitation, and that you may see of what means holy love makes use, in the hearts which are its own, in order to lead them to find rest in the very things which trouble those who are less devout. what i would say on the subject of servants is this; that, after all, they are our fellow-men and our humble brethren, whom charity obliges us to love as ourselves. come, then, let us love them as ourselves, these dear yoke-fellows, who are so closely bound to us, who live under the same roof, and eat and drink of our substance. let us treat them like ourselves, or as we should wish to be treated if we were in their place, and of their condition in life. that is the best way to deal with servants." another instance of blessed francis' gentleness with his own servants. like master, like man. not only were all our blessed father's servants virtuous (he would not have suffered any who were not, to form part of his household), but, following their master's example, they were all singularly gentle and obliging in their manners and behaviour. one of them, a young man, handsome, virtuous, and pious, was greatly sought after by many of the citizens, who thought he would prove a most desirable son-in-law, and to this end they encouraged his intercourse with their daughters. about the several advantageous matches proposed to him he always used to tell the bishop. one day the latter said to him, "my dear son, your soul is as dear to me as my own, and there is no sort of advantage that i do not desire for you and would not procure for you if i could. that you know very well, and you know, too, that it is possibly only your youth that dazzles the eyes of certain young girls and makes them want you for their husband; but i am of opinion that more age and experience is needed before you take upon yourself the cares of a family. think well over the matter, for when once embarked it will be too late to repent of what you have done. "marriage is an order in which the profession must be made before the novitiate; if there were a year's probation, as there is in the cloister, there would be very few professions. after all, what have i done to you to make you wish to leave me? i am old, i shall soon die, and then you can dispose of yourself as you please. i shall bequeath you to my brother, who will provide for you quite as advantageously as these proposed matches would have done." he said this with tears in his eyes, which so distressed the young man that he threw himself at the bishop's feet, asking his pardon for having even thought of quitting him, and renewing his protestations of fidelity and of determination to serve him in life and death. "no, no, my son," he replied; "i have no wish to interfere with your liberty. i would, on the contrary, purchase it, like st. paul, at the cost of my own. but i am giving you friendly advice, such as i would offer to my own brother were he of your age." and in very truth he treated the members of his household; not as servants, but as his brothers and children. he was their elder brother or their father, rather than their master. the holy bishop never refused what was asked of him. he practised to the letter the divine precept: _give to him who asketh of thee_,[ ] though, indeed, he possessed so few earthly goods that it was a standing marvel to me how he could give away as much as he did! truly, i believe that god often multiplied the little which was really in his hands. as regards heavenly goods, he was lavish of them to all who came to him as petitioners. he never refused spiritual consolation or advice either in public or in private, and his readiness to supply abundantly and spontaneously this mystical bread of life and wisdom was surprising. his alertness when requested to preach was also peculiarly remarkable, as his action was naturally heavy, and his habit of thought, as well as his enunciation, somewhat slow. on one occasion, in paris, he was asked to preach on a certain day, and readily consented to do so. one of his attendants then reminded him that he was engaged to preach elsewhere on the same day. "no matter," the bishop replied, "god will give us grace to multiply our bread. _he is rich towards all who invoke him._"[ ] his servant next remarked that some care was surely due to his health. "what!" exclaimed blessed francis, "do you think that if god gives us the grace to find matter for preaching, he will not at the same time take care of the body, the organ by means of which his doctrine is proclaimed? let us put our trust in him, and he will give us all the strength we need." "but," objected the other, "does god forbid us to take care of our health?" "by no means," answered the bishop; "but he does forbid a want of confidence in his goodness ... and," he added seriously and firmly, "were i requested to preach a third sermon on that same day, it would cost me less both in mind and body to consent than to refuse. should we not be ready to sacrifice, and even, as it were, to obliterate ourselves, body and soul, for the benefit of that dear neighbour of ours whom our lord loved so much as even to die for him?" [footnote : matt. v. .] [footnote : rom. x. .] upon almsgiving. our blessed father had, as we know, so high an idea of the virtue of charity, which, indeed, he said was only christian perfection under another name, that he disliked to hear almsgiving called charity. it was, he said, like putting a royal crown on the head of a village maiden. in answer to my objection that this was actually the case with esther, who, though only a slave, was chosen by assuerus to be his queen, and crowned by his royal hand, he replied: "you only strengthen my argument, for esther would have remained in her state of servitude had she not become the spouse of assuerus, and, queen though she was, she only wore her crown dependently on his will and pleasure. so almsgiving is only pleasing to god, and worthy of its reward, the heavenly crown of justice, in as far as it proceeds from charity, and is animated by that royal gift which converts it into an infused and supernatural virtue, which may be called either almsgiving in charity, of charitable almsgiving. but, just as the two natures, the divine and the human, were not merged in one another in the mystery of the incarnation, although joined in the unity of the hypostasis of the word, so this conjunction of charity with almsgiving, or this subordination of almsgiving to charity, does not change the one into the other, the object of each being as different as is the creator from the creature. for the object of almsgiving is the misery of the needy which it tries as far as possible to relieve, and that of charity is god, who is the sovereign good, worthy to be loved above all things for his own sake." "but," i said, "when almsgiving is practised for the love of god, can we not then call it charity?" "no," he replied, "not any more than you can call esther assuerus, and assuerus esther. but you can, as i have said above, call it alms given in charity, or charitable almsgiving. "almsgiving and charity are quite different, for not only may alms be given without charity, but even against charity, as when they are given knowing they will lead to sin." in a remarkable passage in theotimus the saint asks: "were there not heretics, who, to exalt charity towards the poor, deprecated charity towards god, ascribing man's whole salvation to almsdeeds, as st. augustine witnesses?"[ ] [footnote : love of god. b. xi. c. .] our saint's hopefulness in regard to the conversion of sinners. our blessed father was always full of tenderness, compassion, and gentleness towards sinners, but he regarded and treated them in different ways according to their various dispositions. a sinner who had grown old in evil, who clung obstinately to his wicked ways, who laughed to scorn all remonstrances, and gloried in his shame, formed a spectacle so heart-breaking and so appalling to the holy bishop, that he shrank from contemplating it. when he had succeeded in turning his thoughts to some other subject, on their being suddenly recalled to it, he would shudder as if a secret wound had been touched, and utter some devout and fervent ejaculation such as this: "ah! lord, command that this blind man see! speak the word only, and he shall be healed! oh, my god, those who forsake thee shall be forsaken; convert him, and he shall be converted!" with obstinate sinners of this class his patience was unwearied. for such, he said, god himself waited patiently, even until the eleventh hour; adding that impatience was more likely to embitter them and retard their conversion than remonstrance to edify them. for the sinner who was more open to conviction, and was not so obstinate in his malice, for him who had, that is to say, lucid intervals in his madness, blessed francis had the most tender affection, regarding him as a poor paralytic waiting on the edge of the pool of healing for some helping hand to plunge him into it. to such he behaved as did the good shepherd of the gospel, who left the ninety-nine sheep in the desert to seek after the hundredth which had gone astray. but towards the sinner when once converted, how describe his attitude of mind! he regarded him not as a brand snatched from the burning, not as a bruised reed, not as an extinguished taper that was still smoking, but as a sacred vessel filled with the oil of grace, as one of those trees which the ancients looked upon as holy because they had been struck by fire from heaven. it was marvellous to observe the honour which he paid to such a one, the esteem in which he held him, the praises which he bestowed upon him. he always considered that souls delivered by god from the mouth of the roaring lion were in consequence likely to be more vigilant, more courageous in resisting temptation, and more careful in guarding against relapses. he did all he could to cover the faults of others, his goodness of heart being so great that he never allowed himself to think ill even of the wicked. he attributed their sinfulness to the violence of temptation and the infirmity of human nature. when faults were public and so manifest that they could not be excused, he would say: "who knows but that the unhappy soul will be converted? the greatest sinners often become the greatest penitents, as we see in the case of david. and who are we that we should judge our brother? were it not for the grace of god we should perhaps do worse than he." he never allowed the conversion of a sinner to be despaired of, hoping on till death. "this life," he said, "is our pilgrim way, in which those who now stand may fall, and those who have fallen may, by grace, be set on their feet again." nor even after death would he tolerate an unfavourable judgment being passed on any. his reason for this was that as the original grace of justification was not given by way of merit, so neither could the grace of final perseverance be merited. with regard to this subject he related to me an amusing incident which occurred whilst he was a missioner in the chablais. amongst the priests and religious who were sent to help him was one of a humorous temperament, and who did not hesitate to show that he was so, even in the pulpit. one day, when preaching before our blessed prelate against the heresiarch[ ] who had raised the standard of revolt in geneva, he said that we should never condemn any one as lost after death, except such as are by scripture denounced; no, not even the said heresiarch who had caused so much evil by his errors. "for," he went on to say, "who knows but that god may have touched his heart at the last moment and converted him? it is true that out of the church and without the true faith there is no salvation; but who can say that he did not at the moment of death wish to be reunited with the catholic church, from which he had separated himself, and acknowledge in his heart the truth of the belief he had combated, and that thus he did not die sincerely repentant?" after having surprised the congregation by these remarks, he most unexpectedly concluded by saying: "we must certainly entertain sentiments of boundless confidence in the goodness of god, who is infinite in mercy to those who invoke him. jesus christ even offered his peace, his love, and his salvation to the traitor judas, who betrayed him by a kiss. why, then, may he not have offered the same favour to this unhappy heresiarch? is the arm of god shortened? "yet, my brethren," he continued, "believe me, and i assure you i lie not, if this man is not damned he has had the narrowest escape man ever had; and if he has been saved from eternal wreck, he owes to god _the handsomest votive candle that a person of his condition ever offered!_" as you may imagine, this _finale_ did not draw many tears from the audience! [footnote : calvin.] blessed francis' solicitude for malefactors condemned to death. he often went to carry consolation to prisoners, and sometimes accompanied condemned criminals to the place of execution, that he might help them to make a good death. at such times, too, he kept to the methods we have already described as used by him in his visiting of the rest of the dying. after having made them unburden their conscience, he left them a little breathing space, and then at intervals suggested to them acts of faith, hope, and charity, of repentance, of resignation to the will of god, and of abandonment to his mercy; not adding to their sufferings by importunity, long harangues, or endless exhortations. so happily did the blessed prelate succeed in this method of treatment, that sometimes the poor criminals whom he accompanied to their execution went to it as to a marriage feast, with joy and peace, such as they had never experienced in the whole course of their lawless and sinful lives, happier far so to die than to live on as they had done. "it is," he would say to them, "by lovingly kissing the feet of god's justice that we most surely reach the embrace of his tender mercy. "above all things, we must be confident that they who trust in him shall never be confounded." upon the small number of the elect. blessed francis' extreme gentleness always led him to lean towards indulgent judgment, however slight in a particular case the apparent justification might be. on one occasion there was a discussion in his presence as to the meaning of those terrible words in the gospel: _many are called, but few chosen_.[ ] some one said that the chosen were called a little flock, whereas the unwise or reprobates were spoken of as many in number, and so on. he replied that, in his opinion, there would be very few christians (meaning, of course, those who are in the true church, outside which there is no salvation) who would be lost, "because," he said, "having the root of the true faith, the tree that springs from it would sooner or later bear its fruit, which is salvation, and awakening, as it were, from death to life, they would become, through charity, active and rich in good works." when asked what, then, was the meaning of the statement in the gospel as to the small number of the elect, he replied that in comparison with the rest of the world, and with infidel nations, the number of christians was very small, but that of that small number very few would be lost, in conformity to that striking text, _there is no condemnation for those that are in christ jesus_.[ ] which really means that justifying grace is always being offered them, and this grace is inseparable from a lively faith and a burning charity. add to this that he who begins the work in us is he who likewise perfects it. we may believe that the call to christianity, which is the work of god, is always a perfect work, and therefore leads of itself to the end of all perfection, which is heavenly glory. [footnote : matt. xx. .] [footnote : rom. viii. .] to love to be hated, and to hate to be loved. this maxim of our blessed father's seems strange and altogether contrary to his sweet and affectionate nature. if, however, we look closely into it, we shall find that it is full of the purest and most subtle love of god. when he said that we ought to love to be hated, and hate to be loved, he was referring in the one case to the love which is in and for god alone, and in the other to that merely human love, which is full of danger, which robs god of his due, and of which, therefore, we should hate to be the object. he expresses himself thus: "those who have nothing naturally attractive about them are very fortunate, for they are well assured that the love which one bears them is excellent, being all for god's sake alone." upon obedience. blessed francis always said that the excellence of obedience consists not in doing the will of a gentle, courteous superior, who commands rather by entreaty than as one having authority, but in bowing the neck beneath the yoke of one who is harsh, stern, imperious, severe. he was, it is true, desirous that those who had to judge and direct souls should do so as fathers rather than as masters, as, indeed, he did himself, but at the same time he wished those in authority to be somewhat strict, and those subject to them to be less sensitive and selfish, and consequently less impatient, less refractory, and less given to grumbling than most men are. he used also to say that a rough file takes off more rust and polishes iron better than a smooth and less biting one, and that very many and very heavy blows of the hammer are needed to temper a keen sword blade. "but," i said to him, when discussing this subject, "as the most perfect obedience is that which springs from love, ought not the command to be given lovingly, so as to incite the subordinate to a loving obedience?" he answered: "there is a great deal of difference between the excellence of obedience and its perfection. "the excellence of a virtue has to do with its nature; its perfection with the grace, or charity, in which it is clothed. now, here i am not speaking of the supernatural perfection of obedience which emanates most assuredly from the love of god; but of its natural excellence, which is better tested by harsh than by gentle commands. "excessive indulgence on the part of parents and superiors is only too often the cause of many disorders. "more than this, even as regards the supernatural perfection of obedience, it is very probable that the harshness of the command given helps its growth, and renders our love of god, which is our motive in obeying, stronger, firmer, and more generous. when a superior commands with over-much gentleness and circumspection, besides the fact that he compromises his authority and causes it to be slighted, he so attracts and attaches his inferior to himself that often unconsciously he robs god of the devotedness which is his due. the result is that the inferior obeys the man whom he loves, and because he loves him, rather than god in the man, and for the love of god alone. "on the other hand, harshness tests far better the fidelity of a heart which loves god sincerely. for, finding nothing pleasing in the command except the sweetness of divine love, to which alone it yields obedience, the perfection of that obedience becomes the greater, since the intention is purer, more direct, and more immediately turned to god. it was in this spirit that david said that, _for the sake of the words_ of god--that is, of his law--he had _kept hard ways_."[ ] our blessed father added this simile to explain his meaning further: "obeying a harsh, irritating, and vexatious superior is like drawing clear water from a spring which flows through the jaws of a lion of bronze. it is like the riddle of samson, _out of the eater came forth meat_; it is hearing god's voice, and seeing god's will alone in that of a superior, even if the command be, as in the case of st. peter, _kill and eat_;[ ] it is to say with job, _although he should kill me, i will trust in him._"[ ] [footnote : psalm xvi. .] [footnote : acts x. .] [footnote : job xiii. .] upon the obedience that may be practised by superiors. asking him one day if it was possible for persons in authority, whether in the world or in the cloister, to practise the virtue of obedience, he replied: "certainly, and they can do so far more perfectly and more heroically than their subjects." then, seeing my astonishment at this apparent paradox, he went on to explain it in the following manner: "those who are obliged, either by precept or by vow, which takes the place of precept, to practise obedience, are, as a rule, subject only to one superior. those, on the other hand, who are in authority, are free to obey more widely, and to obey even in commanding, because if they consider that it is god who puts them over the heads of the others, and who commands them to command those others, who does not see that even their commanding is an act of obedience? this kind of obedience may even be practised by princes who have none but god set over them, and who have to render an account of their actions to him alone. i may add that there is no power on earth so sublime as not to have, at least in some respects, another set over it. christian kings render filial obedience to the roman pontiff, and the sovereign pontiff himself submits to his confessor in the sacrament of penance. but there is a still higher degree of obedience which even prelates and the greatest among men may practise. it is that which the apostle counsels when he says: _be ye subject to every human creature for god's sake_.[ ] who for love of us not only became subject to the blessed virgin and to st. joseph, but made himself obedient to death and to the death of the cross, submitting himself in his passion to the most sinful and degraded of the earth, uttering not a cry, even as a lamb under the hand of him who shears it and slays it. it is by this universal obedience to every creature that we become all things to all men in order that we may win all to jesus christ. it is by this that we take our neighbour, whoever he may be, for our superior, becoming servants for our lord's sake." [footnote : peter ii. .] an instance of our saint's obedience. on one occasion, when the duke of savoy, being pressed by many urgent public needs, had obtained from the pope a brief empowering him to levy contributions on the church property in his dominions, blessed francis, finding some slackness and unwillingness on the part of the beneficed clergy of the diocese to yield obedience to this order, when he had called them together to settle what was to be done, spoke with just indignation. "what! gentlemen," he cried, "is it for us to question and reason when two sovereigns concur in issuing the same command? is it for us, i say, to scrutinize their counsels, and ask, why are you acting thus? not only to the decrees of sovereign courts, but even to the sentence of the most insignificant judges appointed by god to decide differences in our affairs, we yield deference so far as not to enquire into the motive of their decisions. and here, where two oracles who have only to render account to god of what orders they give, speak, we set to work to enquire into their motives and reasons as if we were charged to investigate their conduct. assuredly, i will take no part in such doings. our virtue, indeed, lags sadly behind that of those christians--only lay people too--of whom st. paul said that being wise themselves they _gladly suffered bondage, stripes, every sort of ill-usage from the foolish_,[ ] and of whom, in another place, he says that they _took with joy the being stripped of their own goods_, knowing that they had _a better and a lasting substance_.[ ] and the apostle, as you know, is speaking to men who had been unjustly despoiled of their whole property by robbers and tyrants, whereas you will not give up a small fraction of yours to assist in the public need of our good prince, to whose zeal we owe the re-establishment of the catholic religion in the three divisions of the chablais, and whose enemies are the adversaries of our faith! is not our order the first of the three estates in a christian kingdom? is there anything more just than to contribute of our wealth, together with our prayers, towards the defence of our altars, of our lives, and of our peace? the people are lavishing their substance and the nobility their blood for the same cause. remember the late wars, and tremble lest your ingratitude and disobedience should plunge you again into similar troubles." adding example to precept, he paid so heavy a tax upon a part of his own revenue that none could say he did not practise what he preached, and all those who had ventured to oppose him in the matter were not only effectually silenced, but covered with confusion and put to a just shame. [footnote : cor. xi. , .] [footnote : heb. x. .] upon the love of holy poverty. _godliness with contentment_, says holy scripture, _is great gain_.[ ] so content was the godliness of blessed francis that, although deprived of the greater part of his episcopal revenues, he was fully satisfied with the little that was left to him. after all, he would say, are not twelve hundred crowns a handsome income for a bishop? the apostles, who were far better bishops than we are, had nothing like that sum. it is not for us to fix our own pay for serving god. his love of poverty was truly striking. at annecy he lodged in a hired house, which was both handsome and roomy, and in which the apartments assigned to him as bishop were very elegantly furnished. he, however, took up his abode in an uncomfortable little room, where there was hardly any light at all, so that he could truly say with job: _i have made my bed in darkness_;[ ] or with david: _night shall be my light in my pleasures_;[ ] or again, _i am like a night raven in the house, or as a sparrow all alone on the housetop_.[ ] he called this little room, or, to speak more truly, this sepulchre of a living man, francis' chamber, while to that in which he received visitors, or gave audience, he gave the name of the bishop's chamber. truly, the lover of holy poverty can always find a means of practising it, even in the midst of riches. blessed francis, indeed, always welcomed poverty with a smiling countenance, though naturally it be apt to cast a gloom and melancholy upon the faces both of those who endure it and of those who only dread it. involuntary poverty is surly and discontented, for it is forced and against the will. voluntary poverty, on the contrary, is joyous, free, and light-hearted. to show you how cheerfully and pleasantly he talked on this subject, i will give you one or two of his remarks. once, showing me a coat which had been patched up for him, and which he wore under his cassock, he said: "my people really work little miracles; for out of an old garment they have made me this perfectly new coat. am i not well-dressed?" again, when his steward was complaining of down-right distress, and of there being no money left, he said: "what are you troubling yourself about? we are now more like our master, who had not even where to lay his head, though as yet we are not reduced to such extremity as that." "but what are we to do?" persisted the steward. "my son," the bishop answered, "we must live as we can, on whatever goods we have, that is all." "truly," replied the other, "it is all very well to talk of living on our goods when there are none left to live upon!" "you do not understand me," returned the bishop; "we must sell or pledge some of our furniture in order to live. will not that, my good m.r.,[ ] be living on our goods?" it was in this fashion that the saint was accustomed to meet cheerfully money troubles, so unbearable to weaker characters. on one occasion i expressed my admiration at his being able to make so good a show on his small means. "it is god," he said, "who multiplies the five loaves." on my pressing him to tell me how it was done, "why, it would not be a miracle," he answered, with a smile, "if we knew that. are we not most fortunate to live on only by help of miracles? _it is the mercy of god that we are not consumed_." "you go quite beyond me," i said, "by taking that ground. i am not so transcendently wise." "listen," he replied. "riches are truly thorns, as the gospel teaches us. they prick us with a thousand troubles in acquiring them, with more cares in preserving them, and with yet more anxieties in spending them; and, most of all, with vexations in losing them. "after all, we are only managers and stewards, especially if it is a question of the riches of the church, which are the true patrimony of the poor. the important matter is to find faithful dispensers. having sufficient to feed and clothe ourselves suitably, what more do we want? assuredly, _that which is over and above these is of evil_.[ ] "shall i tell you what my own feeling is? well and good, but i must do so in your ear. i know very well how to spend what i have; but if i had more i should be in difficulty as to what to do with it. am i not happy to live like a child without care? _sufficient for the day is the evil thereof_. the more any one has to manage the longer the account he has to render. we must make use of this world as though we were making no use of it at all. we must possess riches as though we had them not, and deal with the things of earth like the dogs on the banks of the nile, who, for fear of the crocodiles, lap up the water of the river as they run along its banks. if, as the wise man tells us, _he that addeth knowledge addeth also labour_; much more is this the case with the man who heaps up riches. he is like the giants in the fable who piled up mountains, and then buried themselves under them. remember the miserable man who, as the gospel tells us, thought that he had many years before him in which to live at his ease, but to whom the heavenly voice said: _thou fool, this night do they require thy soul of thee; and whose shall those things be which thou hast provided_? in truth happy is he only who lays up imperishable treasures in heaven." he would never allow himself to be called _poor_; saying, that any one who had a revenue sufficient to live upon without being obliged to labour with head or hands to support himself should be called _rich_; and such, he said, was the case with us both. to my objection that our revenues were nevertheless so very small that we must be really considered poor, for little, indeed, must we be working if our labour was not worth what we got from our bishoprics, he replied: "if you take it in this way you are not so far wrong, for who is there who labours in a vineyard and does not live upon its produce? what shepherd feeds his flock and does not drink its milk and clothe himself with its wool? so, too, may he who sows spiritual seed justly reap the small harvest which he needs for his temporal sustenance. if then he is poor who lives by work, and who eats the fruit of his labour, we may very well be reckoned as such; but if we regard the degree of poverty in which our lord and his apostles lived, we must perforce consider ourselves rich. after all, possessing honestly all that is necessary for food and clothing, ought we not to be content? whatever is more than this is only evil, care, superfluity, wanting which we shall have less of an account to render. happy is poverty, said a stoic, if it is cheerful poverty; and if it is that, it is really not poverty at all, or only poverty of a kind that is far preferable to the riches of the most wealthy, which are amassed with difficulty, preserved with solicitude, and lost with regret." our saint used to say that, as for the cravings of nature, he who is not satisfied with what is really enough will never be satisfied. i wish that i could give any just idea of his extraordinary moderation even in the use of the necessaries of life. he told me once that when the time came for him to lay down the burden of his episcopal duties and to retire into solitude, there to pass the rest of his life in contemplation and study, he should consider five hundred crowns a year great wealth; in fact, he would not reserve more from either his patrimony or his bishop's revenue, adding these words of st. paul: _having food, and wherewith to be covered, let us_ (priests) _be content_.[ ] he gave this as his reason. "the church," he said, "which is the kingdom of jesus christ, is established on foundations directly opposed to those of the world, of which our saviour said his kingdom was not. now, on what is the kingdom of this world founded? listen to st. john: all that is in the world is the _concupiscence of the flesh, or of the eyes, and the pride of life_; that is to say, the pleasures of the senses, avarice, and vanity. the church then will be founded on mortification of the flesh, poverty, and humility. pleasures and honours follow in the train of wealth; but poverty puts an axe to the roots of pride and sensual enjoyments. some, says david, blaming them, glory in the multitude of their riches; and st. paul exhorts the rich of this world not to be high-minded. "it is a perilous thing for humility and mortification to take up their abode with wealth." this is why he wished for nothing but bare necessaries, fearing that superfluity might lead him into some excess. when i reminded him that if we had this superfluity we might give alms out of it, as it is written, _of what remaineth give to the poor_, he replied, that we knew well enough what: we ought to do; but that we did not know what we should do, and that it was always a species of presumption to imagine ourselves able to handle live coals without burning ourselves, seeing that even the angel in the vision of the prophet took them up with tongs! [footnote : tim. vi. .] [footnote : job. xvii. .] [footnote : ps. cxxxviii. .] [footnote : ps. ci. .] [footnote : georges roland.] [footnote : matt. v. .] [footnote : tim. vi. .] upon the same subject. our blessed father was so absolutely indifferent to the goods of this world that i never heard him so much as once complain of the loss of almost all his episcopal revenue, confiscated by the city of geneva. he used to say that it was very much with the wealth of the church as with a man's beard, the more closely it was clipped the stronger and the thicker it grew again. when the apostles had nothing they possessed all things, and when ecclesiastics wish to possess too much, that too much is reduced to nothing. his one hunger and thirst was for the conversion of souls, living in wilful blindness to the light of truth which shines only in the one true church. sometimes, he exclaimed, sighing heavily: "give me souls, and the rest take to thyself." speaking of geneva, to which city, in spite of its rebellion, he always applied terms of compassion and affection, such as "my dear geneva," or "my poor geneva," he said to me more than once: "would to god that these gentlemen had taken such small remains of my revenue as they have left to me, and that we had only as small a foothold in that deplorable city as the catholics have in la rochelle, namely, a little chapel in which to say mass and perform the functions of our religion! you would then soon see all these apostates come back to their senses, and we should rejoice over the return to the church of these poor sunamites, who are so forgetful of their duty."[ ] this fond hope he always nourished in his breast. he used to say that henry viii. of england, who at the beginning of his reign was so zealous for the catholic faith, and wrote so splendidly against the errors of luther, that he acquired for that reason the glorious title of defender of the faith, having, by yielding to his passion, caused so great a schism in his kingdom, even had he desired at the close of his life to return to the bosom of the church which he had so miserably abandoned, would, on setting to work to attain this most happy end, have found the impossibility of recovering for the clergy and restoring to them the property and wealth which he had divided among his nobles, a serious difficulty. "alas!" our blessed father exclaimed, commenting upon this fact, "to think that a handful of dust should rob heaven of so many souls! the business of every christian, and especially of the clergy, is the keeping of god's law. the lord is the portion of their inheritance and of their cup. he would have made to them an abundant restitution of all that had been theirs, by gentle but effective means. they whose thoughts are fixed upon the lord will be nourished by him. the just are never forsaken nor reduced to beg their bread; they have only to lift their eyes and their hopes to god and he will give them meat in due season; for it is he who gives food to all flesh. moreover, it is much easier to suffer hunger with patience than to preserve virtue in the midst of plenty. it is not every one who can say with the apostle: _i know how to abound, and i know how to suffer need_.[ ] a thousand fall on the left hand of adversity, but ten thousand on the right hand of prosperity; for iniquity is the outcome of luxury, and the sin of the cities of the plain had its origin in a superabundance of bread; that is to say, in their wealth. to be frugal and devout is to possess a great treasure." [footnote : cantic. vi. .] [footnote : philipp. iv. .] upon poverty of spirit. three virtues, he said, were necessary to constitute poverty of spirit: simplicity, humility, and christian poverty. simplicity consists in that singleness of aim which looks only to god, referring to him alone those innumerable opportunities which come to us from objects other than himself. humility is that conviction of our own inferiority and destitution which makes the truly humble man regard himself as always an unprofitable servant. christian poverty is of three kinds. first, that which is affective, but not effective. this can be practised in the midst of wealth, as in the case of abraham, david, st. louis, and many other holy persons, who, though rich in this world's goods, were ready in a moment to accept poverty with cheerfulness and thankfulness if it should please god to send it to them. second, effective but not affective poverty, which is a very unhappy condition. those who are weighed down by it feel all its distressing consequences and are miserable because they cannot possess the many things which they ardently desire. third, affective, united with effective poverty, which is recommended in the gospels, and which may happen to be our lot, either from birth or from some reverse of fortune. if we are reconciled to our condition in life, however humble, and bless god who has placed us in it, then we tread in the footsteps of jesus christ, of his holy mother, and of the apostles, who all lived a life of poverty. another way of practising this poverty is to follow the counsels of jesus christ, who bids us _sell all that we have and give it to the poor_, imitating our divine master in that poverty which he embraced for us, that we, through it, might be made rich. and never is this command more practically and worthily obeyed than when the man who has abandoned all his worldly goods for the sake of christ, labours, not only in order to sustain his own life, but that he may have the wherewithal to give alms. thus did the apostle glory when he said: _for such things as were needful for me, and them that are with me, these hands have furnished_.[ ] [footnote : acts xx. .] francis' love of the poor. to love our neighbour is not only to wish him well, but also to do him all the good that it is in our power to do. if we fall short of this, we deserve the reproach of st. james, addressed to those who, though they have ample means for giving material aid to the poor, content themselves with bare words of comfort. the love of blessed francis for the poor was so intense that in their case he seemed to become a respecter of persons, preferring them to the rich, both in spiritual and in temporal matters. he was like a good physician who in visiting the sick shows the most tender solicitude for those afflicted with the most terrible diseases and lingers longest by their bedsides. one day i had to wait my turn to go to confession to him for a very long time, he being engaged in hearing a poor blind beggar woman. when i afterwards expressed my surprise at the length of her confession, he said: "ah! she sees far more clearly the way to go to god than many whose eyesight is otherwise perfect." on another occasion, sailing with him on the lake of geneva, i heard the boatman calling him "father," and addressing him with corresponding familiarity. "listen," he said to me, "to those good people. they are calling me their father; and, indeed, i do believe they love me as such. oh! how much more real happiness they give me than those who call me 'my lord.'" upon the christian view of poverty. on one occasion i quoted that saying of seneca: "he is truly great who dines off earthenware as contentedly as if it were silver; but he is greater still who dines off silver with as much indifference as if it were earthenware." "the philosopher," he said, "is right in his judgment; for the first feasts on mere fancy, leading to vanity; but the second shows that he is superior to wealth, since he cares no more for a precious metal than for clay. "yet, oh! how ridiculous; how empty is all mere human philosophy! this same philosopher who speaks so eloquently again and again of the contempt of riches, was all his life immersed in them; and at his death left thousands behind him. does it not seem to you that, this being his own case, his talking about poverty makes him like a cleric expatiating on the art of war? we had far better listen to st. paul, who speaks as a past master on the subject of poverty, since he practised it so thoroughly that he chose rather to live on what he could earn by the labour of his hands than on what the preaching of the gospel might bring in to him, as to the other apostles. yes, we must needs listen to and believe st. paul when he says that he esteems all things as dung in comparison with the service of jesus christ, counting as loss what he once held as gain."[ ] [footnote : philipp. iii, .] upon prosperity. blessed francis objected strongly to the use of the word _fortune_, considering it unworthy of utterance by christian lips. the expressions "fortunate," "by good fortune," "children of fortune," all common enough, were repugnant to him. "i am astonished," he said once, "that fortune, the most pagan of idols, should have been left standing, when christianity so completely demolished all the rest! god forbid that any who ought to be the children of god's providence alone become children of fortune! and that those whose only hope should be in him put their trust in the uncertainty of riches!" he spoke yet more strongly of such as professing to be nailed with jesus christ to the cross and to glory only in his reproaches and sufferings, yet were eager in heaping up riches, and, when amassed, in clinging fondly to them. "for," he said, "the gospel makes christian blessedness to consist in poverty, contempt, pain, weeping, and persecutions; and even philosophy teaches us that prosperity is the stepmother of true virtue, adversity its mother!" i asked him once how it was that we are so ready to have recourse to god when the thorn of affliction pierces us, and so eager in asking for deliverance from sickness, calumny, famine, and such like misfortunes. "it is," he said, "our weakness which thus cries out for help, and it is a proof of the infirmity which encompasses us; for as the best and firmest fish feed in the salt waters of the open sea, those which are caught in fresh water being less pleasing to the taste, so the most generous natures find their element in crosses and afflictions, while meaner spirits are only happy in prosperity. "moreover," he continued, "it is much easier to love god perfectly in adversity than in prosperity. for tribulation having nothing in itself that is lovable, save that it is god's gift, it is much easier to go by it straight to the will of god, and to unite ourselves to his good pleasure. easier, i say, than by prosperity, which has attractions of its own that captivate our senses, and, like dalila, lull them to sleep, working in us a subtle change, so that we begin insensibly to love for its own sake the prosperity which god sends us, instead of bestowing all our grateful love on god who sends it, and to whom all thanks and praise are due!" upon charity and chastity. feeling at one time troubled and perplexed in mind as to the bearing of these two virtues upon one another, and as to the right manner of practising each, so that one should never run counter to the other, i carried my difficulties to our blessed father, who settled them at once in the following words; "we must," he said, "in this matter draw a careful distinction between persons who occupy positions of dignity and authority, and have the care of others, and those private individuals who have no one to look after but themselves. the former must deliver their chastity into the keeping of their charity; and if that charity is real and true it will not fail them, but will serve as a strong wall of defence, both without and within, to their chastity. on the other hand, private individual's will do better to surrender the guardianship of their charity to their chastity, and to walk with the greatest circumspection and self-restraint. the reason of this is that those in authority are obliged by the very nature of their duties, to expose themselves to the dangers inseparable from occasions: in which, however, they are assisted by grace, seeing they are not tempting god by any rashness. "contrariwise, those private individuals who expose themselves to danger without any legitimate excuse run great risk of tempting god and losing his grace; since it is written that _he that loveth danger_ (still more he that seeketh it) _shall perish in it_."[ ] [footnote : eccles. iii. ] upon purity of heart. i can never express to you, or convey a right idea, of the high esteem in which he held purity of heart. he said that chastity of body was common enough even among unbelievers and among persons addicted to other vices; but that very few people could truly say, my heart is pure. i do not say that by this purity of heart he meant the never being troubled by sinful desires, for that would be making the virtue of chastity to consist in insensibility; and what do those who are not tempted know about the matter? no; he placed it in never yielding to unlawful affections. to these we should rather give the name of _infections_, since they infect the will, and interfere with the safe custody of the heart, which is the well-spring of the spiritual life. upon chastity and humility. speaking of the humility and chastity of the blessed virgin the holy prelate said: "these two virtues, although they have to be continually practised, should be spoken of so rarely that this rarity of speech may rank as silence. the reason is that it is difficult to mention these virtues or to praise them either in themselves or in any individual who possesses them, without in some way sullying their brightness. " . there is, in my opinion, no human tongue which can rightly express their value, and to praise them inadequately is in a way to disparage them. " . to praise humility is to cause it to be desired from a secret self-love and to invite people to enter its domain through the wrong door. " . to praise humility in any individual is to tempt him to vanity and to flatter him dangerously; for the more he thinks himself humble the less he will really be so; and possibly when he sees that others consider him humble he will think that he must be so. " . as regards chastity, to praise it in itself is to leave on the mind a secret and almost imperceptible image of the contrary vice, and therefore to expose the mind to some danger of temptation. there is a sting hidden in the honey of such praise. " . to praise it in any individual is in a measure to expose him to the danger of falling. it is to put a stumbling-block in his way. it is to inflate that pride which under a fair disguise may lure him over a precipice. " . we must never be content to rely upon our hitherto untarnished purity of life, but must always fear, since innocence is a treasure which we carry in a vessel of glass, easily broken. " . in a word, the virtues of humility and chastity always seem to me like those subtle essences which evaporate if they are not kept very tightly corked. " . however, although i consider it wise very seldom to speak of these two virtues, it is wise to practise them unceasingly, humility being one of the most excellent virtues of the soul, and purity that fair white adornment of the body which is its honour, and which, like a lily growing among thorns, brings forth a wonderful flower, whose fruit is honour and riches. " . nevertheless, i do not mean that we are to be so scrupulous as _never_ to dare to speak of these virtues; not even to praise them when occasion warrants or demands our doing so. no, indeed. in one sense they can never be sufficiently praised, nor ever sufficiently valued and cultivated. what i mean is that we gain little by praising them. our words in praise of a virtue are of little account in comparison with the smallest fruit; that is, with the least of the acts of a virtue. "i add this because i know you attach too much importance to my words, and take them as literally as if they were oracles." upon modesty. our blessed father, speaking of the virtue of modesty, and dilating upon one of its chief properties, namely, its extraordinary sensitiveness to the slightest injurious influence, made use of two beautiful comparisons: "however pure, transparent, and polished the surface of a mirror may be, the faintest breath is sufficient to make it so dull and misty that it is unable to reflect any image. so it is with the reputation of the virtuous. however high and well established it may be, according the words of wisdom: _oh! how beautiful is the chaste generation!_ [ ] a thoughtless, unrestrained glance or gesture is quite sufficient to give occasion to a slanderous tongue to infect that reputation with the serpent's venom, and to hide its lustre from the eyes of the world, as clouds hide the brightness of the sun. "again, look at this beautiful lily. it is the symbol of purity; it preserves its whiteness and sweetness, amid all the blackness and ruggedness of the encircling thorns. as long as it remains untouched its perfume is delicious and its dazzling beauty of form and colour charms every passer-by; but, as soon as it is culled, the scent is so strong as to be overpowering, and should you touch the petals they lose their satin smoothness as well as all their pure and white loveliness." [footnote : wisd. iv. i.] the contempt he felt for his body. since our blessed father was not, like the martyrs, privileged to offer his body, both by living and dying, as a victim for god, he found out, with the ingenuity of love, a method of self-humiliation and self-sacrifice to be carried out after his death. when quite young and still pursuing his studies at padua, falling dangerously ill, and his life being despaired of, he begged his tutor to see that when he was dead his body should be given into the hands of the surgeons for dissection. "having been of so little use to my neighbour in life," he said, "i shall thus at least, after my death, be able to render him some small service." happily for us, god in his great mercy spared this precious life, being contented, as in the case of the sacrifice of isaac, with the offering of his faithful servant's will and with his generous contempt for his own flesh. a motive which urged blessed francis to the above resolution, besides his desire of self-humiliation and immolation, was the hope of putting an end to the scandalous practice then prevailing among the surgical and medical students at padua of secretly by night going to the cemeteries to disinter newly-buried bodies. this they did when they had failed to obtain those of criminals from the officers of justice. innumerable evils, quarrels, and even murders resulted from this practice, and the indignation of the relatives and friends of the deceased persons whose corpses were stolen may be imagined. by setting the example of a voluntary surrender of his own body for dissection our blessed father hoped to diminish such orders. upon our saint's humility. it was of course impossible for blessed francis to be ignorant of the high esteem in which his piety was held, not only by his own people, but by all who knew him. this knowledge was, however, as may well be believed, a source of pain to him, and often covered him with confusion. he seldom spoke on the subject, for true humility rarely speaks, even humbly, of itself. yet on one occasion, when more than usually worried by hearing himself praised, he allowed these words to fall from his lips: "the truth is that these good people with all their eulogiums, and expressions of esteem, are sowing the seed of a bitter fruit for me to gather in the end. when i am dead, imagining that my poor soul has gone straight to heaven, they will not pray for it, and will leave me languishing in purgatory. of what avail then will this high reputation be to me? they are treating me like those animals which suffocate their young by their close pressure and caresses, or like the ivy which drags down the wall it seems to crown with verdure." i will now give you some examples of his humility. he was sometimes told that people had spoken ill of him. instead of excusing or defending himself, he would say cheerfully, "do they say no more than that? certainly, they cannot know all, they flatter me, they spare me: i see very well that they rather pity than envy me, and that they wish me to be better than i am. well! god be praised for this, i must correct my faults, for if i do not deserve reproof in this particular matter, i do in some other. it is really a mercy that the correction is given so kindly." if anyone took up his defence and declared that the whole accusation was false, "ah! well," he would say, "it is a warning to make me careful not to justify it, for surely they are doing me a kindness by calling my attention to the dangers of this rock ahead." then, noticing how indignant we all were with the slanderers, "what," he would exclaim, "have i given you leave to fly into a passion on my account? let them talk--it is but a storm in a teacup, a tempest of words that will die away and be forgotten. we must be sensitive indeed if we cannot bear the buzzing of a fly! who has told us that we are blameless? possibly these people see our faults better than we see them ourselves, and better than those who love us do. when truths displease us, we often call them slanders. what harm do others do us by having a bad opinion of us? we ought to have a bad opinion of ourselves. such persons are not our adversaries, but rather our allies, since they enlist themselves on our side in the battle against our self-love. why be angry with those who come to our aid against so powerful an enemy?" it happened once that a certain simple-minded woman told our saint bluntly that what she had heard of him had caused her to loose all esteem for him. blessed francis replied quietly that her straightforward words only increased his fatherly affection for her, as they were an evidence of great candour, a virtue he highly respected. the woman proceeded to declare that the reason she was so greatly disappointed in him was because she had been told that he had taken her adversary's part in a law-suit instead of acting as the father of all and siding with none. "nay," rejoined the saint, "do not fathers interfere in the quarrels of their children, judging between right and wrong? besides, the verdict of the court should have convinced you that you were in the wrong, since it was given against you; and had i been one of the judges i must have decided as they did." the woman protested that injustice had been done to her, but the saint quietly and patiently reasoned with her and assured her that although it was natural that she should feel angry at first, yet, when the bandage of passion had fallen from her eyes, she would thank god for having deprived her of that which in justice she could not have retained. this person finally admitted that she had been in the wrong, but enquired if blessed francis was really not annoyed at her having lost her high opinion of him, having formerly regarded him as a saint. he assured her she was wrong in having done so, and that, far from being annoyed, his esteem for her was all the greater on account of this, her correct judgment. "believe me," he went on to say, "i am speaking from a sense of truth, and not out of false humility, when i maintain that my friends over-rate me. the fact is, they try to persuade themselves that i really am what they so ardently desire me to be. they expose me to the danger of losing my soul by pride and presumption. you, on the contrary, are giving me a practical lesson in humility, and are thus leading me in the way of salvation, for it is written, _god will save the humble of heart._" upon mere humbleness of speech. he disliked expressions of humility unless they clearly came from the heart, and said that words of this kind were the flower, the cream, and the quintessence of the most subtle pride, subtle inasmuch as it was hidden even from him who spoke them. he compared such language to a certain sublimated and penetrating poison, which to the eye seems merely a mist. those who speak this language of false humility are lifted up on high, whilst in thoughts and motives they remain mean and low. he considered similar fashions of speech to be even more intolerable than the words of vain persons who are the sport of their hearers, and whose empty boasting makes them to be like balloons, the plaything of everybody. a mocking laugh is sufficient to let all the wind which puffs them out escape. words of humility coming merely from the lips, and not from the heart, lead surely to vanity, though by what seems the wrong road. those who utter them are like people who take their salary gladly enough, but insist on first making a show of refusing and of saying that they want nothing. even excuses proffered in this manner accuse and betray the person who offers them. the truly humble of heart do not wish, to _appear_ humble, but to _be_ humble. humility is so delicate a virtue that it is afraid of its own shadow, and cannot hear its own name uttered without running the risk of extinction. upon various degrees of humility. blessed francis set the highest value upon the virtue of humility, which he called the foundation of all moral virtues, and together with charity, the solid basis of true piety. he used to say that there was no moral excellence more literally christian than humility, because it was not known even by name to the heathen of old. even of the most renowned among ancient philosophers, such virtues as they possessed were inflated with pride and self-love. not every kind of humility pleased him. he was not willing to accept any as true metal until he had put it to many a test and trial. . he required in the first place that there should be genuine self-knowledge. to be truly humble we must recognise the fact that we come from nothing, that we are nothing, that we can do nothing, that we are worth nothing, and in fine that we are idle do-nothings, unprofitable servants, incapable of even forming a single good thought, as of ourselves. yet self-knowledge, he said, if it stood alone, however praiseworthy in itself, would only render those who possessed it the more guilty if they did not act up to it, in order to become better; because moral virtue being in the will, and mere knowledge only in the understanding, the latter alone cannot in any way pass current as true virtue. . he even had some doubt of humility though residing in the will, because it is quite possible to misuse it, and to turn humility itself into vanity. take for instance those who, having been invited to a banquet, take at once possession of the very lowest place, or of one which they know to be inferior to that due to their rank. they may do this on purpose to be invited to go higher amidst the applause of the company, and with advantage to themselves. he called this a veritable entering into vanity, and through the wrong door: for the truly humble do not wish to appear humble, but only vile and lowly. they love to be considered as of no accounts and, as such, to be despised and rebuffed. . even this did not satisfy him. he was not content with mere natural virtue, but insisted that humility must be christian, given birth to, and animated by charity. otherwise he held it in small esteem, refusing to admit that among christians it suffices to practise virtues in pagan fashion. but what is this infused and supernatural humility? it is to love and delight in one's own humiliation, for the reason that by its means we are able to give glory to god, who accepts the humility of his servants, but puts far away from his heart the proud in spirit. . again, our saint taught that in striving to please god by bearing humiliations, we should aim at accepting such as are not of our own choice rather than those that are voluntary. he used to say that the crosses fashioned by us for ourselves are always of the lightest and slenderest, and that he valued an ounce of resignation to suffering above pounds' weight of painful toil, good though it might be in itself, undertaken of one's own accord. . quiet endurance of reproaches, contempt, or depreciation, was, in his opinion, the true touch-stone of humility, because it renders us more like to jesus christ, the prototype of all solid virtue, who humbled and annihilated himself, making himself obedient unto death, even the ignominious death of the cross. . he commended voluntary seeking after humiliations, yet he insisted upon great discretion being practised in this search, since it easily happens that self-love may subtly and imperceptibly insinuate itself therein. . next he considered that the highest, or more properly speaking, deepest degree of humility is that of taking pleasure and even delight in humiliations, reputing them to be in truth the greatest of honours, and of being just as much ill-content with honours as vain persons are with contempt and contumely. in illustration of this he would quote moses, who preferred the reproach of israel to the glories of a kingdom offered to him by pharaoh's daughter; of esther, who hated the splendid ornaments with which they decked her to make her pleasing in the eyes of assuerus; of the apostles, whose greatest joy was to suffer shame and reproach for the name of jesus; and of david, who danced before the ark amid a crowd of buffoons and mountebanks, and who exulted in thus making himself appear contemptible in the eyes of michol, his wife. . blessed francis called humility a descending charity, and charity an ascending humility. the former he compared to those streams which come down from the heights and flow down into the valleys. the latter to the slender column of smoke spoken of in the canticle[ ] which rises up towards heaven, and is composed of all the sweet essences of the perfumer. . the saint next gives a rare lesson on the measure or means of gauging humility. obedience is to be its source and touch-stone. this teaching he grounded on the saying of st. paul: that our lord _humbled himself, making himself obedient_.[ ] "do you see," he would say, "by what scale humility must be measured? by obedience. if you obey promptly, frankly, cheerfully, without murmuring, expostulating, or replying, you are truly humble. nor without humility can one be easily and really obedient, for obedience demands submission of the heart, and only the truly humble look upon themselves as inferior to all and as subject to every creature for the love of jesus christ. they ever regard their fellow-men as their superiors, they consider themselves to be the scorn of men and the off-scouring of the world. thus these two virtues, like two pieces of iron, by friction one with the other, enhance each other's brightness and polish. we are humble only in as far as we are obedient, and in fine we are pleasing to god only in as far as we have charity." . he recommended all to endeavour to steep their every action in the spirit of humility, as the swan steeps in water each morsel she swallows, and how can this be done except by hiding our good works as much as we can from the eyes of men, and by desiring that they may be seen only by him to whom all things are open, and from whom nothing can be hid. our saint himself, urged by this spirit, said that he would have wished, had there been any goodness in him, that it might have been hidden from himself as well as from all others until the judgment day, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed. the gospel itself exhorts us to observe this secrecy, for it warns us to serve god in secret, and by hiding our virtues, our prayers, our almsgiving, fittingly to worship him, who is a hidden god. . blessed francis did not, however, desire that we should put ourselves to the constraint and discomfort of avoiding good actions simply because of their being praiseworthy in the eyes of others. what he approved of was a noble, generous, courageous humility, not that which is mean, timid, and cowardly. true, he would not that anything should be done for so low a motive as to win the praise of men, but at the same time he would not have an undertaking abandoned for fear of its success being appreciated and applauded. "it is only very weak heads," he said, "that are made to ache by the scent of roses." . above all things, he recommended people not to speak either in praise or blame of themselves save when doing so is absolutely necessary, and then with great reticence. it was his opinion (as it was aristotle's) that both self-praise and self-blame spring from the same root of vanity and foolishness. "as for boasting, it is," he said, "so ridiculous a weakness that it is hissed down by even the vulgar crowd. its one fitting place is in the mouth of a swaggering comedian. in like manner words of contempt spoken of ourselves _by_ ourselves, unless they are absolutely heartfelt and come from a mind thoroughly convinced of the fact of its own misery, are truly the very acme of pride, and a flower of the most subtle vanity; for it rarely happens that he who utters them either believes them himself or really wishes others to believe them: on the contrary, the speaker is mostly only anxious rather to be considered humble, and consequently virtuous, and seeks that his self-blame should redound to his honour. self-dispraise in general is no more than a tricky kind of boasting. it reminds me of oarsmen who turn their backs on the very place which with all the strength of their arms they are striving to reach." the above sentiments of blessed francis with regard to humility are very striking, but it is much more worthy of note that he himself carried his principles strictly into practice. his actions were so many model lessons and living precepts on the subject. o god! how pleasing must the sacrifice of his humility have been in thine eyes which look down so closely upon the humble, but regard the proud only from afar. [footnote : cant. iii. .] [footnote : philipp. ii. .] upon humiliation. the great lesson which on all possible occasions blessed francis inculcated on those who were fortunate enough to come into contact with him, and to treat with him concerning their soul's welfare, was that which our saviour teaches. _learn of me, because i am meek and humble of heart._[ ] not, however, that he attached the meaning to the words meek, and humble, often, but very erroneously, given to them. by meekness he did not understand a kind of honeyed sweetness, too often mixed with a good deal of affectation and pretention. a wolf's heart may be hidden under the fleece and gentle seeming of a lamb, and underneath an outside covering of humility may lurk secret arrogance, such that while appearing to lie down to be trodden under men's feet, those humble after this fashion may by pride in their own pretended state of perfection be putting all men under their own feet. our lord's words, _if any man will come after me, let him deny himself take up his cross, and follow me_, blessed francis, in one of his letters, explained as follows: "it is to walk side by side with our crucified bridegroom, to abase ourselves, to humble ourselves, to despise ourselves even to the death of all our passions; yea, i say, even to the death of the cross. but observe, my dear daughter, that this abasement, this humility, this contempt of ourselves, must, as i have told you before, be practised gently, quietly, persistently, and not only sweetly, but gladly and joyously." [footnote : matt. xi. .] humility with regard to perfection. whatever perfection the just man may recognize in himself, he is like the palm tree, which, says the psalmist, the higher it rears its lofty head the deeper down in the earth it casts its roots. and certainly, since all our perfection comes from god, since we have no good or perfect gift which we have not received from the father of lights, we have no reason to glorify ourselves. truly, we can do nothing of ourselves as of ourselves, all our sufficiency, in good, proceeding from god. our vanity is such that as soon as we begin to suspect we are not guilty, we regard ourselves as innocent, forgetting that if we do not fail in one direction we do in another, and that, as st. gregory says, our perfection, in proportion to its advancement, makes us the better perceive our imperfections. without purity how should we recognise impurity? it is light which makes us understand what darkness is. many people not discerning in themselves certain particular vices think that they possess the opposite virtues, and are deceived. again, seeing themselves freed from some earthly passions they imagine themselves to be clothed in heavenly affections; and thus their ill-advised heart is darkened, they feed upon wind, and walk on in the vanity of their thoughts. our blessed father, reflecting one day upon the condition of his soul and feeling it to be enjoying great peace owing to its detachment from creatures, made his own the sentiments of the great apostle, who, though not feeling himself guilty of anything, yet did not therefore consider himself justified, and who forgetting the past pressed on always farther and farther, never thinking that he had yet reached the goal of perfection.[ ] i must read you the passage in which he expresses this view of himself:-- "i find my soul a little more to my liking than usual, because i see nothing in it which keeps it attached to this world, and because it is more alive to the things of the next, to its eternal joys. ah! if i were but as closely and consciously united to god as i am dissevered and alienated from the world, how happy i should be! and you, too, my daughter, how rejoiced you would be! but i am speaking of my feelings, and my inward self; as regards the exterior, and, worst of all, as regards my deportment and behaviour, they are full of all sorts of contradictory imperfections. the good which i wish to do, i do not do; but nevertheless i know well that truly and with no pretence, i do wish to do it, and with a most unchanging will. but, my daughter, how can it be that out of such a will so many imperfections show themselves as are continually springing up within me? certainly, they are not of my will, though they be _in_ my will, and _on_ my will. they are like the mistletoe which grows and appears on a tree and in a tree, although it is not of the tree, nor out of the tree." [footnote : philipp. iii. .] upon excuses. although to excuse ourselves for our faults is in many circumstances blameworthy, whilst in general to accuse ourselves of them is laudable, still when self-accusation is carried too far, it is apt to run into affectation, making us wish to pass for something different from what we really are, or, with scrupulosity, making us persuade ourselves that we are what we describe ourselves to be. it is true that the just man is his own accuser and that, knowing his faults, he declares them simply, in order to be cured of them by wholesome corrections. it is also true that it is a bad thing to excuse oneself, an excuse being always worse than the fault committed, inasmuch as it shows that we think we were right in committing the fault; a persuasion which is contrary to truth. if our first parents had not excused themselves, the man throwing the blame on the woman, the woman on the serpent, and if, on the contrary, confessing their sin, they had repented, they would have crushed the serpent while in the act of wounding them, and god, who had invited them to this repentance by his loving rebuke, _adam, where art thou?_ would in his mercy, have surely pardoned them. this was what made david pray that god would set a watch before his mouth, and on his lips, lest he should be led to utter evil words. by evil words he means excuses which we invent to cover our sins.[ ] our blessed father advises us as follows: "be just, and without mature consideration, neither excuse nor accuse your poor soul, lest if you excuse it when you should not, you make it insolent, and if you accuse it lightly, you discourage it and make it cowardly. walk simply and you will walk securely." i once heard him utter these striking words: "he who excuses himself unjustly, and affectedly, accuses himself openly and truly; and he who accuses himself simply and humbly, deserves to be excused kindly and to be pardoned lovingly." there is a confession which brings confusion, and another which brings glory. confession, says st. ambrose, is the true medicine for sin to him who repents of wrong doing. [footnote : psalm cxl. , .] upon our good name. it is hardly likely that blessed francis could have been ambitious of the empty honours attached to an office at court since he did not even trouble himself to keep up his own reputation, except in as far as it might serve to advance the glory of god, which was not only the great but the one passion of his heart. when a very serious accusation against him was carried to the court, he tells us: "i remained humble and silent, not even saying what i might have said in my defence, but contenting myself with bearing my suffering in my heart. the effect of this patience has been to kindle in my soul a more ardent love of god, and also to light up the fire of meditation. i said to god: thou art my protector, and my refuge in this tribulation, it is for thee to deliver me out of it. o god of truth, redeem me from the calumny of men!" he wrote as follows on the same subject to a holy soul who was far more keenly interested in what concerned him than in what affected herself: "after all, providence knows the exact amount of reputation which is necessary to me, in order that i may rightly discharge the duties of the service to which i have been called, and i desire neither more nor less than it pleases that good providence to let me have." upon despising the esteem of men. he had no desire that we should make light of our reputation, or be careless about it, but he wished us to guard it for the service of god rather than for our own honour; and more to avoid scandal than to glorify ourselves. he used to compare reputation to snuff, which may be beneficial if used occasionally and moderately, but which clouds and injures the brain when used in excess; and to the mandrake which is soothing when smelt at a distance, but if brought too close, induces drowsiness and lethargy. in his philothea he devotes one chapter to the subject of guarding our reputation, while at the same time practising humility.[ ] he did not, however, content himself with teaching by precept; he went much further, and continually impressed his lesson on others by his example. on one occasion, writing to me about some slanderous reports which had been spread in paris against him, on account of conscientious and holy advice which he had given to virtuous people who had sought counsel of him, he expressed himself in these words: "i am told that they are cutting my reputation to pieces in paris, but i hope that god will build it up again, stronger than ever, if that is necessary for his service. certainly i do not want it except for that purpose, for, provided that god be served, what matters whether it be by good or evil report, by the exaltation, or by the defamation of our good name?" "ah," he said to me one day, "what is a man's reputation, that so many should sacrifice themselves to this idol? after all,--it is nothing but a dream, a phantom, an opinion, so much smoke; praise of which the very remembrance perishes with its utterance; an estimate which is often so false that people are secretly amused to hear themselves extolled for virtues, whose contrary vices they know to be dominating them, and blamed for faults from which they are happily quite free. surely those who complain of being slandered are over-sensitive! their little cross, made of words, is so light that a breath of wind carries it away. the expression, 'stung me,' meaning 'abused me,' is one that i have never liked, for there is a great deal of difference between the humming of a bee, and its stinging us! we must indeed have sensitive ears, if mere buzzing stings them! "truly, those were clever people who invented the proverb: 'a good name is better than riches'; preferring reputation to wealth, or, in other words, vanity to avarice. oh, my god! how far removed is this from the spirit of faith! was there ever any reputation more torn to pieces than that of jesus christ? with what insults was he not overwhelmed? with what calumnies was he not loaded? and yet the father has given him a name which is above every name, and exalted him the more, the more he was humbled. did not the apostles also come forth rejoicing from the presence of the council where they had received affronts--for the name of jesus? "oh, it is a glorious thing to suffer in so worthy a cause! but too often we will have none but open persecutions, so that our light may shine in the midst of darkness, and that our vanity may be gratified by a display of our sufferings. we should like to be crucified gloriously in the midst of an admiring crowd. what! think you that the martyrs when they were suffering their cruel tortures, were praised by the spectators for their patience? on the contrary, they were reviled and held up to execration. ah! there are very few who are willing to trample under foot their own reputation, if so be, they may thereby advance the glory of him who died an ignominious death upon the cross, to bring us to a glory which has no end." [footnote : part iii. chap. vii.] upon the virtues we should practise when calumniated. blessed francis was once asked if we ought not to oppose calumny with the weapons of truth, and if it was not as much our duty to keep, for god's sake, our good name, as our bodily strength. he answered that on such occasions many virtues were called into exercise, each claiming precedence over the other. the first is _truth_ to which the love of god and of ourselves in god, compels us to bear testimony. nevertheless that testimony has to be calm, gentle, kindly, given without irritation or vehemence, and with no anxiety about consequences. our saviour, when he was accused of having a devil, answered quite simply, "_i have not a devil._"[ ] if you should be blamed for any scandalous fault, of which, however, you know you are not guilty, say candidly and quietly that, by the grace of god, you are innocent of such a sin. but, if you are not believed, _humility_ now claims her right and bids you say that you have indeed many greater faults unknown to the world, that you are in every way miserable and that if god did not sustain you in your weakness, you would commit far greater crimes than you are accused of. this sort of humility is in no way prejudicial to truth, for was it not from the depths of true humility that david cried out saying, that if god had not aided him his soul would have dwelt in hell.[ ] should the tempest of evil speaking continue, _silence_ steps to the front, and offers her calm resistance to the storm, following the teaching of the royal prophet, who says: _and i became as a dumb man not opening his mouth._[ ] answering is the oil which feeds the lamp of calumny, silence is the water which extinguishes it. if silence is unavailing, then _patience_ reminds you that it is her turn to act, and, coming forward; shelters you with her impenetrable shield; patience, as holy scripture tells us, makes our work perfect. if we be still assailed, we must call to our aid _constancy_, which is a kind of double-lined buckler of patience, impervious to the most violent thrusts. but should evil tongues, growing yet sharper and keener, cut to the very quick, _longanimity_, which is an unfailing, undying patience, is ready to enter the lists, and eager to help us. for when persecution, instead of yielding to our patience, is only the more irritated thereby, like a fire which burns more fiercely in frosty weather, then is the time for us to practise the virtue of longanimity. and last of all comes _perseverance_, which goes with us to the very end and without which the whole network of virtues would fall to pieces; for _it is the end which crowns the work_, and _he who perseveres to the end shall be saved_. indeed, who can say how many more virtues claim a place in this bright choir? prudence, gentleness, modesty of speech, and many another, circle round their queen, holy charity, who is indeed the life and soul of them all. charity it is which bids us bless those who curse us, and pray for those who persecute us; and this same charity not unfrequently transforms our persecutors into protectors and changes slanderous tongues into trumpets to sound our praise. [footnote : john viii. .] [footnote : psalm xciii. .] [footnote : id. xxxvii. .] upon some spiritual maxims. on one occasion somebody quoted in his presence the maxims of a very great and very holy person (st. teresa) on the way to attain perfection. despise the world. despise no man. despise yourself. despise being despised. "be it so," observed our blessed father, "as regards the three first sayings, but, in regard to the fourth, to my mind, the very highest degree of humility consists in loving and cherishing contempt, and in being glad to be despised. david so acted, when he showed himself pleased to be despised as a buffoon by his own wife michol. st. paul, too, gloried in having been scourged, stoned, and looked upon as a fool, the off-scouring and very refuse of the world. the apostles came forth rejoicing from the presence of the councils in which, for the love of jesus, they had been loaded with opprobrium, contumely, and contempt. a really humble man despising himself, is only too glad to find others ready to agree with him, and to help him to humble himself. he receives reproaches as god's good gift, and deems himself unworthy of aught else." he had something, too, to say about the first three maxims. taking the world in the sense of the universe, it is, he said, a great stage, on which are shown the wonders of almighty god, all of whose works are very good--nay, are perfect. but, even taking the word "world" in the sense in which it is mostly used in scripture, meaning the company of the wicked, he said, that we should indeed despise their vices, yet not themselves; for who knows but that they will in the end, be converted? how many vessels of contempt have been, by the change of the right hand of god, transformed into vessels of honour? to despise no one, which is the second dictum, seems at first sight to contradict the first, if, by "the world" be meant the vicious and not merely their vices. it is certainly very right to despise no one, but it is still more reasonable and more advantageous to ourselves, who wish to advance in perfection, to value and esteem all men, because created by god to his image, and because fitted for partaking of his grace and of his glory. the third maxim, which tells us to despise ourselves, also needs some explanation. we ought not under pretence of humility to slight and despise the graces which god has given us. to do so would be to throw ourselves over the precipice of ingratitude in order to avoid perishing in the pitfall of vanity, "nothing," said he, "can so humble us before the mercy of god, as the multitude of his benefits; nothing can so abase us before the throne of his justice, as the countless number of our misdeeds. we need never fear that the good things god has given us will feed our pride, as long as we remember that whatever there may be _in_ us that is good, it is not _of_ us." upon patience. i was complaining to him one day of a great injury which had been done to me. he answered, "to anybody but you i should try to apply some soothing balm of consolation, but your circumstances, and the pure love which i bear to you, dispense me from this act of courtesy. i have no oil to pour into your wound, and, indeed, were i to affect to sympathise with you, it might only increase the pain of the wound you have received. i have nothing but vinegar and cleansing salt to pour in, and i must simply put in practice the command of the apostle: _reprove, entreat_.[ ] you finished your complaint by saying that great and tried patience was needful to enable a man to bear such attacks in silence. certainly, your patience is not of so high a stamp, since you reserve to yourself the privilege of lamentation!" "but, father," i replied, "you see it is only into your heart that i pour out my sorrow. when a child is troubled to whom should it turn if not to its kind father?" "you, a child, indeed; and for how long do you mean to go on clinging to your childhood? is it right that one who is the father of others, one to whom god has given the rank of a bishop in his church, should play the child? when we are children, says st. paul, we may speak as children, but not when we are become men. the lisping which pleases us in a baby is altogether unsuitable for a sturdy boy. do you wish me to give you milk and pap instead of solid food? am i like a nurse to breathe softly on your hurt? are not your teeth strong enough to masticate bread, the hard bread of suffering? have you forgotten how to eat bread? are your teeth set on edge by eating sour grapes? it is a fine thing, indeed, for you to complain to an earthly father, you, who ought to be saying with david to your heavenly father: _i was dumb and i opened not my mouth, because thou hast done it_.[ ] "'but,' you will say, 'it is not god but wicked men who have done this to me!' "ah, indeed! and do you forget that it is what is called the permissive will of god which makes use of the malice of men, either to correct you or to exercise you in virtue? job says: _the lord gave and the lord hath taken away_. [ ] he does not say: the devil and the thieves took my goods and my dear ones from me: he sees only the hand of god which does all these things by such instruments as it pleases him to use. you seem unfortunately to have no wish to rank yourself with him who said that the rod and staff with which god struck him brought him consolation; [ ] and that he was like a man helpless and abandoned, yet, nevertheless, free from the dead;[ ] that he was as one deaf and dumb, who paid no heed to the insults poured into his ears; [ ] that he was humbled in the dust, and kept silence even from good words, which might have served to justify him and to defend his innocence. "'but, father,' you continue, 'how is it that you have become so harsh, and have changed your gentleness, as job says to almighty god, into cruelty? where is your unfailing compassion?' i answer, my compassion is as great and as sincere as ever; for god knows how much i love you, since i love you more than myself, and how i should reproach myself if i allowed my heart to be hardened against you. it is, however, too clear that the injury you have received is resented by you, since you complain of it. we do not usually complain of what pleases us, quite the reverse, we are glad and rejoice and expect to be congratulated, not pitied. witness the great parables of the finding of the lost sheep and the lost groat.' "'well,' you reply, 'and do you really want me to tell you that black looks exhilarate me, and that i can bear smoke puffed in my face without even sneezing?' "o man of little faith and of most limited patience! what then of our gospel maxims as to giving our cheek to the smiter, and our beard to those who pluck it out; what of the beatitude of the persecuted; of the giving our coat to him who takes away our cloak; of blessing those who curse us; of a cordial and hearty love of our enemies? are these sayings, think you, only curiosities to be put in a cabinet; are they not rather those seals of the spouse, which he desires us to set upon our hearts and our arms, on our thoughts and on our works? "well, well, i pardon you from indulgence, to use the expression of the apostle, but, on condition that you will be more courageous for the future, and that you will shut up tightly in the casket of silence all like favours which god sends to you, so as not to let their perfume escape, and that you will render thanks in your heart to our father in heaven, who deigns to bestow upon you a tiny splinter from the cross of his son. what! you delight in wearing a heavy cross of gold upon your breast, and you cannot bear the weight of one light as is your own upon your heart, but must needs try to rid yourself of it by complaining! then, again, even when it is gone, you must needs talk about what you have put up with, and would like me to consider you patient merely because you do not openly resent the wrong done you. as if the great virtue of patience consisted only in the not revenging yourself, and not much more, as it really does, in uttering no word of complaint. "moreover, it appears to me that you are quite wrong in so much as talking about being _patient_ under injuries such as you have suffered. patience is too distinguished a virtue to be needed for so trivial an act--the lesser good qualities of moderation, forbearance, and silence would amply suffice. _in silence and in hope shall your strength be_."[ ] so he dismissed me, ashamed of myself, it is true, but, like the giant of fable, strengthened by having fallen. on leaving him i felt as if all the insults in the world would henceforth fail to make me utter one single word of complaint. i was much consoled afterwards by coming across, in one of his letters, the same remark about moderation and forbearance as he had then addressed to me. he writes: "nothing can have a more tranquillizing effect upon us in this world than the frequent consideration of the afflictions, necessities, contempts, calumnies, insults, and humiliations which our lord suffered from his birth to his most painful death. when we contemplate such a weight of bitterness as this, are we not wrong in giving to the trifling misfortunes which befall us, even the names of adversities and injuries? are we not ashamed to ask a share of his divine patience to help us to bear such trifles as these, seeing that the smallest modicum of moderation and humility would suffice to make us bear calmly the insults offered to us?" [footnote : tim. iv. ] [footnote : psalm xxxviii. .] [footnote : job i. .] [footnote : psalm xxii. .] [footnote : psalm lxxxvii. , .] [footnote : psalm xxxvii. .] [footnote : isaiah xxx. .] how to profit by bearing with insults. he used to say that a harvest of virtues could be gathered in from a crop of affronts and injuries, because they offer us in abundance opportunities of making such acts as the following: . of _justice_; for who is there that has not sinned and consequently has not deserved punishment? has anyone offended you? well, think how often you have offended god! surely, therefore, it is meet that creatures, the instruments of his justice, should punish you. . but perhaps you were justly accused? well, if so, simply acknowledge your fault, asking pardon of god as well as of men, and be grateful to those who have accused you, even though they have done it in such a manner as to add unnecessary bitterness to your suffering. remember that medicines are none the less salutary for being nauseous. . but may-be you were accused falsely? if so, calmly and quietly, but without hesitation, bear witness to the truth. we owe this to our neighbours, who might, if we were silent, believe the charge brought against us, and thus be greatly disedified. . yet, if, after this, people persist in blaming you, abandon any further defence of yourself, and conquer by silence, modesty, and patience. . _prudence_ has its own part to play in the conflict; for there is no better way of dealing with insults than by treating them with contempt. he who gives way to anger looks as if he acknowledged the truth of the accusation. . _discretion_, too, comes to the aid of prudence by counselling toleration. . _courage_ in all its power and grandeur raises you above yourself. . _temperance_ bridles your passions and curbs them into submission. . _humility_ will make you love and value your humiliation. . _faith_ will, as st. paul says, stop the mouths of lions, and more than this, it will, he says, set before our eyes for our loving contemplation and imitation jesus christ himself, overwhelmed with insults and calumnies, yet silent, unmoved, as one who hears not and is dumb. . _hope_ will hold out before you an imperishable crown, the reward of your trials and sufferings which endure but for a moment. . _charity_, last of all, will come to you and abide with you--charity, patient and sweet, benign and yielding, believing all, hoping all, enduring all, ready and willing to suffer all. the more we value our eternal salvation the more heartily shall we welcome suffering. upon bearing with importunities. blessed francis laid great stress upon the necessity of patience when we are importuned. "yet," he would say, "patience seems almost too great a power to invoke in this matter. in reality a little gentleness, forbearance, and self-control ought to suffice. still, when we speak of patience it must not be as if it were to be employed only in the endurance of really great evils, for, while we are waiting for these notable occasions that occur rarely in a lifetime, we neglect the lesser ones. we imagine that our patience is capable of putting up with great sufferings and affronts, and we give way to impatience under the sting or bite of an insect. we fancy that we could help, wait upon, and relieve our neighbour in long or severe sickness, and yet we cannot bear that same neighbour's ill-bred manner, and irritating moods, his awkwardness and incivility, and above all his _importunity_, especially if he comes just at the wrong moment to talk to us about matters which seem to us frivolous and unimportant. "we triumphantly excuse ourselves for our impatience on these occasions by alleging our deeps sense of the value of time; that one only thing, says an ancient writer, with regard to which avarice is laudable. "but we fail to see that we employ this precious time in doing many things far more vain and idle than in the satisfying the claims of our neighbour, and possibly less important than those about which he talks to us, occasioning what we call loss of time. "when we are conversing with others we should try to please them and to show that their conversation is agreeable to us, and when we are alone we should take pleasure in solitude. unfortunately, however, our minds are so inconsistent that we are always looking behind us, like lot's wife. in company we sigh for solitude, and in solitude, instead of enjoying its sweets, we hanker after the company of others." that he who complains sins. one of blessed francis' most frequent sayings was: he who complains, seldom does so without sinning. now, you are anxious to know what exactly he meant by this, and if it is not allowable to complain to superiors of wrongs which have been done us, and when we are ill, to seek relief from suffering, by describing our pains to the physician, so that he may apply to them the proper remedies. to put this interpretation on the words of blessed francis is to overstrain their meaning. the letter killeth, and needs to be interpreted by the spirit that quickeneth, that is, to be taken gently and sweetly. our blessed father condemns complaining when it borders upon murmuring. he used to say that those who thus complained sinned, because our self-love always magnifies unduly any wrongs done to ourselves, weighing them in the most deceitful of balances, and applying the most extravagant epithets to things which if done by us to others we should pass over as not worth a thought. he did not consider it at all wrong to claim from a court of justice, quietly, calmly, and dispassionately, reparation of injuries done to our property, person, or honour. he has, indeed, devoted a whole chapter in his philothea[ ] to demonstrating that we may, without failing in humility or charity, do what is necessary for the preservation of our good name. but human weakness is such that it is difficult even in a court of justice to keep our temper and retain a proper equanimity: hence the proverb that, in a hundred-weight of law, there is not so much as an ounce of good nature. it was also his wish that when sick we should state what ails us quite simply and straightforwardly to those who can relieve us, always remembering that god commands us to honour the physician.[ ] to philothea he says: "when you are ill offer your sufferings, pains, and weakness to the service of our lord, and entreat him to unite them to the torments which he endured for you. obey the physician; take medicine, food, and other remedies for the love of god; remembering the gall which he accepted for love of you. desire to recover your health that you may serve him, but, if he so will, do not refuse to linger long upon your bed of pain, so as to obey him; in fine, be ready to die if that is his pleasure, that you may praise and enjoy him."[ ] it was his opinion that when we complain, however justly, a certain amount of self-love is always at the bottom of the complaint, and that a habit of grumbling is a positive proof of our being too tender of ourselves and too cowardly. after all, of what use are complaints? they do but beat the air and serve to prove that if we suffer wrong it is with regret, with sadness, and not without some desire of revenging ourselves. an ungreased wheel makes the most noise in turning, and in like manner, he who has the least patience is the first to grumble. we must remember, however, that all men deceive themselves. those who complain do not mean to be considered impatient. on the contrary, they tell you that if it were not this particular thing, they would speak and act differently; but that, as it is, if god did not forbid vengeance they would assuredly take it in the most signal manner. poor israelites! really brought out of egypt, but yet still hankering after the leeks and garlic of that miserable country! truly such feebleness of mind is pitiable, and most unworthy of a soul avowedly consecrated to the service of the cross of jesus christ. it is not that we are absolutely forbidden to complain under great sufferings of body or mind, or under great losses. job, the mirror of the patient, uttered many complaints, yet without prejudice to that virtue which made him so highly esteemed by god, and renders him famous in all ages. it would not only be unwise, but possibly a sin, so to conceal bodily suffering--under the pretext of being resolved not to complain--as to refuse to have recourse to either physician or remedies, and thereby to risk bringing ourselves down to the gates of the grave. even god, the all-perfect, does not refrain from pouring forth his complaints against sinners, as we know from many parts of holy scripture. we must then in this matter preserve a just medium, and although it behoves us sometimes to suffer in silence, yet at other times we must make known our sufferings, since _that suffering is truly the most wretched which, amid torments, has no voice_.[ ] the son of god, the pattern of all perfection, wept and cried aloud at the grave of lazarus and on the cross, showing that he pities our sufferings and shares our griefs. the measure of our complainings must be fixed by discretion, which st. anthony calls the regent and ruler of the kingdom of virtues, appointed to guard it from the encroachments of sin, ever striving to gain dominion there. our blessed father gives us the following lesson on the subject: "we must," he says, "abstain from a but little noticed, yet most hurtful imperfection, against which few people guard themselves. this is, that when we are compelled to blame our neighbour or to complain of his conduct, which should be as seldom as possible, we never seem to get done with the matter, but go on perpetually repeating our complaints and lamentations; a sure sign of irritation and peevishness and of a heart as yet destitute of true charity. great and powerful minds only make mourning about great matters, and even these they dismiss as quickly as possible, never giving way to passion or fretfulness." [footnote : part iii. chap. vii.] [footnote : eccles. xxxviii. , .] [footnote : part iii. chap. .] [footnote : virgil, Æneid i.] blessed francis' calmness in tribulation. the similitude of the nest of the halcyon or kingfisher, supposed to float on the sea, which our saint describes so well and applies so exquisitely in one of his letters, was the true picture of his own heart. the great stoic, seneca, says that it is easy to guide a vessel on a smooth sea and aided by favourable winds, but that it is in the midst of tempests and hurricanes that the skill of the pilot is shown.[ ] so it is with the soul, whose fidelity and loyalty towards the divine lover is well tested by sufferings and sorrows. the more he was crossed, the more he was upset, and, like the palm tree, the more violently the winds beat against him, the deeper and stronger roots he threw out. his own words express this truth so perfectly as to leave no doubt on the subject. he says: "for some time past the many secret contradictions and oppositions which have invaded my tranquil life have brought with them so calm and sweet a peace that nothing can be compared to it. indeed, i cannot help thinking that they foretell the near approach of that entire union of my soul with god, which is not only the greatest but the sole ambition and passion of my heart." oh! blessed servant of jesus christ, how absolutely you practised that teaching which you impress so strongly on us in your theotimus, in the words of blessed brother giles. "one to one! one soul to one only love! one heart to one only god!" to that only god, the king eternal, immortal, invisible, be honour and glory for ever and ever! amen. [footnote : _senec, de providentia_, cap. iv.] blessed francis' test of patience in suffering. one day he was visiting a sick person who, in the midst of intense suffering, not only showed great patience in all her words and actions, but plainly had the virtue deeply rooted in her heart. "happy woman," said blessed francis, "who has found the honey-comb in the jaws of the lion!" wishing, however, to make more certain that the patience she showed was solid and real, rooted and grounded in christian charity, and such as to make her endure her sufferings for the love and for the glory of god alone, he determined to try her. he began to praise her constancy, to enlarge upon her sufferings, to express admiration at her courage, her silence, her good example, knowing that in this way he would draw from her lips the true language of her heart. nor was he deceived, for she, sincere and absolutely patient christian that she was, answered him: "ah! father, you do not see the rebellious struggles of all my senses and feelings. in the lower region of my soul everything is in confusion and disorder, and if the grace and fear of god were not to us as a tower of strength i should long ago have altogether given way and rebelled against god. picture me to yourself as like the prophet whom the angel carried by one hair of his head; my patience, as it were, hangs on a single thread, and were it not for the mighty help god is to me i should long ere now have been in hell. "it is not then my virtue but the grace of god in me which makes me show so much courage. my own part in the matter is but pretence and hypocrisy. were i to follow my own impulses i should moan, struggle, break out into passionate and bitter words, but god restrains my lips with bit and bridle, so that i dare not murmur under the blows dealt by his hand which i have learnt through his grace to love and honour." our blessed father, on leaving her sick-room, said to those who were with him, "she has, indeed, true and christian patience. instead of pitying her for her sufferings we ought rather to rejoice over them, for this high virtue is only made perfect in infirmity. but do you notice how god hides from her own eyes the perfection which he is giving her? her patience is not only courageous, but loving and humble; like pure balm, which, when unadulterated, sinks to the bottom of the water into which it is cast. be careful, however, not to repeat to her what i have just said to you lest, by doing so, you should excite in her movements of vanity, and spoil the whole work of grace, whose waters only flow through the valley of humility. "let her peacefully possess her soul in patience, for she is at peace even in this extremity of bitterness." upon long illnesses. violent sicknesses either pass quickly or they carry us to the grave; slow maladies drag wearily on and exercise the patience of the sufferers, nor less that of those who tend them. our blessed father says on the subject: "long sicknesses are good schools of mercy for those who wait upon the sick and of loving patience for those who suffer. "they who wait upon the sick are at the foot of the cross with our lady and st. john, whose compassion they imitate; the sick man himself is on the cross with our saviour, whose passion he imitates. "but how can we imitate either this compassion or this passion if we do not suffer from the motive of the love of god? for the blessed virgin and st. john, the beloved disciple, were moved by a compassion as much more sorrowful than ours, as their love for the crucified, their own dearest lord, was greater than ours can be. it was at the foot of the cross that the sword of grief pierced mary's soul, and it was there that the beloved disciple drank that chalice of bitterness, which, after permitting him to share the glories of thabor, the saviour predicted should be his." the whole life of a true christian is one long period of suffering. those who endure not with jesus christ, are not fit to reign with him. "o soul in grace," says our blessed father, "thou art not yet the spouse of jesus glorified, but of jesus crucified. this is why the rings, necklaces, and other ornaments which he gives you, and with which he is pleased to adorn you, are crosses, nails, and thorns; and the marriage feast he sets before you gall, hyssop, and vinegar. it is in heaven we shall possess the rubies, diamonds, and emeralds, the wine, the manna, and the honey." the world is a vast quarry in which are hewn out and shaped those living stones which are to build up the heavenly jerusalem, as the church sings: _tunsionibus, pressuris, expoliti lapides suis cooptantur locis, per manus artificis: disponuntur permansuri sacris ædificiis._[ ] thou too, o church, which here we see, no easy task hath builded thee. long did the chisels ring around! long did the mallet's blows rebound! long worked the head, and toiled the hand! ere stood thy stones as now they stand. [footnote : office of the dedication of a church.] blessed francis' holy indifference in illness. as regards our blessed father's patience in time of sickness, i myself was with him in one only of his illnesses, but others, who saw him in many and were frequent witnesses of his patience, gentleness, and absolute indifference to suffering, tell us marvels on that subject. for my part, on the one occasion when i saw him stretched upon his bed, suffering with so much endurance and sweetness, the sight at once recalled to me what st. catherine of genoa tells us of a certain soul in purgatory. this poor soul she represented as so perfectly united to god by charity that it was physically unable to utter the slightest complaint, or to have the faintest shadow of a desire, which was not absolutely in conformity with the divine will. such souls, she says, wish to be in purgatory exactly as long as god shall please, and this, with a will so contented and so constant, that for nothing in the whole world would they be elsewhere unless it were his will. this is exactly how our blessed father suffered, without in any way losing heart, because of the services which he might have been able to render to god and his neighbour had he been in health. he wished to suffer because to do so was the good pleasure of god, who held the keys of his life and of his death, of his health and of his sickness, and of his whole destiny. if he was asked whether he would take this or that, physic or food, whether he would be bled or blistered, or the like, he had but one answer to give: "do with the patient what you please, god has put me at the disposal of the doctors." nothing could be more simple or obedient than his behaviour, for he honoured god in the physicians, and in their remedies, as he himself has commanded us all to do. he always told the doctors and attendants exactly what was the matter with him, neither exaggerating his malady by undue complaints, nor making his suffering appear less than it really was by a forced and unnatural composure. the first he said was cowardice, the second dissimulation. even although the inferior and sensible part of his soul might be under the pressure of intense pain, there always flashed out from his face, and especially from, his eyes, rays of that calm light which illumined the superior and reasonable part of his nature, shining through the dark clouds of bodily affliction. hence the weaker his body, the stronger became his spirit, enabling him to say with the apostle: _gladly, therefore, will i glory in my infirmities, that the power of christ may dwell in me._[ ] [footnote : cor. xii. .] upon the shape of the cross. "the cross," blessed francis says, "is composed of two pieces of wood, which represent to us two excellent virtues, necessary to those who desire to be fastened to it with jesus christ, and on it to live a dying life, and on it to die the death which is life. these two great virtues most due to christians are humility and patience." he wished, however, that those two virtues should be rooted and grounded in charity, that is to say, not only be practised in charity, that is, in a state of grace, without which they are of no value for heaven, but also from the motive of charity. this is how he expresses himself:-- "divine love will teach you that in imitation of the great lover we must be on the cross in company with humility, deeming ourselves unworthy to endure anything for him who endured so much for us; and in company with patience, so as not to wish to come down from the cross, not even all our life long if so it pleases the eternal father. "the motto of blessed teresa was, to suffer or to die; for divine love had attached this faithful servant of jesus crucified so closely to the cross that she wished not to live, save that she might have opportunities of suffering for him. "the great and seraphic st. francis considered that god had forgotten him and lovingly complained when he had passed a day untouched by any suffering; and just as he called poverty his mistress, so he called pain his sister." our blessed father's motto was "to love or to die." in his treatise on the love of god he cries out: "to love, or to die! to die and to love! to die to all other love in order to live to jesus' love, that we may not die eternally, but that living in thy eternal love, o saviour of our souls, we may eternally sing, vive jesus, live jesus. i love jesus. live jesus, whom i love! i love jesus, who lives and reigns for ever and ever. amen."[ ] [footnote : book xii, c. .] a diamond cross. it was one day reported very seriously to blessed francis as though it were some misdemeanor, that one of his penitents who was accustomed to wear on her breast a rich diamond ornament, had had the diamonds made up into a cross which she wore in the same manner as before, and that this was a cause of scandal to certain persons. "ah! he cried, how true it is that the cross is an occasion of scandal to some, and of edification to others! i do not know who advised this lady to do what she has done, but for my part i am much edified, and only wish that all the gew-gaws and trinkets worn by women could be altered in the same holy manner. that would indeed be to make vessels of the tabernacle out of their mirrors."[ ] among his letters i came across lately and with much pleasure, one which i think must have been written to this very lady. in it he says: "when i last had the pleasure of seeing you, dear madam, you were wearing outwardly on your heart a cross; love it fervently, i beseech you. it is all gold if you look at it with loving eyes. on one side it is true that you see the beloved of your heart, dead, crucified amid nails and thorns; but on the other side you will find a cluster of precious stones ready to adorn the crown of glory which awaits you, if only, meanwhile, you wear lovingly the crown of thorns with your king who willed to suffer so much that he might enter into his joy." to a lady advanced in years and distinguished by her piety, who was living in my diocese, and whom, out of reverence and affection, he used to call his mother, he wrote as follows, when the infirmities of old age were pressing heavily upon her: "i see very plainly that you must from henceforth accustom yourself to the maladies and infirmities which declining years bring with them. ah, dear lord! what happiness for a soul dedicated to god, to be much tried by suffering, before quitting this life! my dearest mother, how can we learn the lesson of generous and fervent love save amid thorns, crosses, languor, and faintness, and more especially when these sufferings are prolonged and lingering. our dear saviour showed us the measure of his boundless love by that of his labours, and of his sufferings. show, my dear mother, your love to the bridegroom of your heart on the bed of pain; for it was on that bed that he fashioned your heart, even before it came into existence, he beholding it as yet only in his divine plan. ah! this divine saviour has reckoned up all your pains, all your sorrows, and has paid with his precious blood for all the patience and the love which you need in order rightly to direct your labours to his glory and to your own salvation. content yourself with calmly desiring to be all that god wills you to be." [footnote : exod. xxxviii. .] holy magdalen at the foot of the cross. our blessed father had a special reverence for the picture of magdalen at the foot of the cross, calling it sometimes the library of his thoughts. perhaps this representation was before his mind's eye, when just before he rendered up his soul to god he murmured these words: _wash me yet more from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin_.[ ] "oh!" he exclaimed, when he was looking one day at this picture in my house at belley, "how happy, and how profitable an exchange this penitent made! she bestowed tears on the feet of jesus christ, and in return those feet gave back to her blood, but blood that washed away all her sins, for christ has cleansed us from every stain in his blood, and by the sprinkling of this hyssop has made us, coal-black though we were, white as snow! oh, gracious rain made by god to fall upon his inheritance, how sweet, how much to be desired thou art!" "magdalen seeks our saviour while she holds him. she demands him of himself. she does not see him in the form she looked for: therefore, unsatisfied, she seeks him away from himself. "she expected to see him in his robe of glory, not in the poor garb of a gardener; nevertheless she knew that it was he when he uttered her name _mary_.[ ] "my dear sister, my daughter, it is our lord in the clothing of a gardener whom you meet every day in one place or another, and in the various mortifications which present themselves to you. "you wish he would offer you grander mortifications. oh! my god! the grandest are not the best. do you not believe that he says to you also _mary, mary?_ ah! before you see him in his glory, he wishes to plant in your garden many flowers, small and lowly indeed, but such as he loves. that is why he wears a gardener's dress. "may our hearts be for ever united to his heart, and our wills to his good pleasure." [footnote : psalm l. .] [footnote : john xx. .] upon the power of gentleness and patience. an ecclesiastic in blessed francis' diocese, had, because of his vicious and scandalous life, been sent to prison. after a few days' sojourn there he testified the deepest repentance, and with tears and promises of amendment entreated the officers of the prison to allow him to be taken to the holy prelate, who had already pardoned many of his offences, that he might at his feet plead again for forgiveness. this request was at first refused, as the officers considered that his scandalous life deserved punishment, if only as an example to others, and they knew that with blessed francis, to see a sinner was to pity and forgive him. at last, however, they yielded to the priest's passionate entreaties, and he was taken before his bishop. throwing himself on his knees before the holy man, he implored mercy, declaring that he would lead a new life, and set an example of all that was edifying, whereas before he had given nothing but scandal. blessed francis on his part knelt down before the culprit, and with many tears, addressed these remarkable words to him; "i, too," he said, "ask you to have pity upon me, and upon all of us who are priests in this diocese, upon the church, and upon the catholic, apostolic, and roman religion, the honour of which you are ruining by your scandalous life. for that life gives occasion to the adversaries of our faith, who are always on the watch like dragons to detect our slightest failings, to condemn us. for a priest to sin, i tell you, is to give occasion to devils to mock at the lives of our clergy, and to blaspheme our holy faith, i ask you also to have pity on yourself, and on your own soul which you are losing for all eternity, and to seek anew god's favour, i exhort you in the name of jesus christ to return to god by a true repentance, i conjure you to do this by all that is most holy, and sacred in heaven, or on earth, by the blood of jesus christ which you profane, by the loving-kindness of the saviour, whom you crucify afresh, by the spirit of grace against whom you are rebelling." these remonstrances, or rather the spirit of god speaking by the mouth of this zealous pastor, had such effect that the guilty man was by this change of the right hand of the most high converted into a perfectly different being, and became as notable an example of virtue as he had been an occasion of scandal. again--there was in his diocese a certain ecclesiastic who for very grave faults, and for the scandal occasioned by them, was not only imprisoned and treated while in prison with the greatest severity, but moreover, after regaining his liberty, remained for six months suspended from all ecclesiastical functions. our blessed father most unwillingly yielded to the entreaties of the officers of justice not in any way to interfere in the matter, but to let the law take its course, and to leave the offender in their hands to be treated with exceptional rigour. so little, however, did this mode of dealing with the criminal answer, that, though while in prison he had been tractable, humble, lavish of promises of amendment, and apparently penitent, when once he had shaken off his fetters he relapsed into all his old evil habits, and passed from bad to worse. the authorities were in fine constrained to deprive him of his benefice, and to banish him from the diocese. a few years later a very similar case occurred in which the officers showed the same unwillingness to permit the intervention of blessed francis, and this from no want of respect or love for him, but, as before, from a fear lest his gentleness and charity should hinder the course of justice. in this case, however, the holy bishop was firm. "if," he said, "you forbid him to appear before me, you will not forbid me to appear before him. you do not wish him to come out of prison, suffer me then to go to prison with him, and to be the companion of his captivity. we must comfort this poor brother, who entreats us for help. i promise you that he shall not leave the prison except with your leave." accompanied by the officers of justice he then proceeded to the prison. no sooner did he see the poor man kneeling humbly before his bishop, and accusing himself of his sins, than the holy prelate embraced him tenderly, and turning to his gaolers said: "is it possible that you do not see that god has already pardoned this man? is there any condemnation for one who is in christ jesus? if god justifies him, who shall condemn him? certainly not i." then, turning to the culprit, he said: "go in peace, my brother, and sin no more, i know that you are truly penitent." the officials protested that the man was a hypocrite, and like that other suspended priest would himself soon show that they were right. "it is, however, possible," replied the saint, "that had you treated that other priest with lenity, he, too, would have truly repented; beware, then, lest his soul should one day be required at your hands. for my part, if you will accept me as this man's bail, i am ready to pledge my word for his good behaviour. i am certain that he is sincerely repentant, and even if he is deceiving me, he will do more injury to himself than to me, or others." the guilty man, bursting into tears, declared himself willing to undergo any penance that might be imposed upon him, and even to give up his benefice of his own accord, if the bishop should judge this to be the proper course. "i should be much grieved if you were to take that step," replied blessed francis, "the more so as i hope that, just as the steeple in falling crushed the church, so now being set up again it will make it more beautiful than before." the officials gave way, the prison doors were thrown open, and after a month's suspension, _a divinis_, the penitent resumed all the duties of his sacred office. thenceforth he lived so holy and exemplary a life as fully to verify the predictions of his holy bishop, who, when these two memorable instances, one of perversion and the other of conversion, were once afterwards discussed before him, said: "it is better by gentleness to make penitents than by severity to make hypocrites." i will now relate some other instances of blessed francis' extraordinary gentleness and of its softening effect upon others. he had made himself surety for a considerable sum of money for one of his friends, who, at the time when payment was due, happened to be in piedmont levying troops for the service of his highness the duke of savoy. the creditor becoming impatient for the discharge of the debt, applied to the good bishop, and insisted upon his making the money good, paying no attention whatever either to his gentle remonstrances, or to his assurances that the debtor, though unable at present to leave his troops, would do so as soon as was consistent with his duty to his prince and his country, and that meantime his regular payment of the interest, and the knowledge that he was worth a hundred times more than the sum owing, ought surely to satisfy the creditor. blessed francis remained perfectly calm and unmoved amid the storm of invectives and reproaches that followed this remonstrance, and which were accompanied by furious demands reiterated again and again, that he himself as surety should repay the money. at last, speaking with incredible gentleness, the saint said: "son, i am your pastor. can you as one of my flock, have the heart to take the bread out of my mouth in place of helping to feed me? you know that i am much straitened in circumstances, and have really only barely enough for my maintenance. i have never had in my possession the sum which you demand of me, but for which, out of charity, i made myself surety: do you wish to seize for it my goods, rather than those of the real debtor? well, if so, i have some patrimony. i give it up to you: there is my furniture. turn it all out into the public square, and sell it. i put myself absolutely into your hands to do as you please. i only ask of you to love me for god's sake, and not to offend him in any way by anger, hatred, or scandal. if you will do this i am content." the only reply to this was a fresh outburst of furious invectives and accusations, to which our blessed father replied with unalterable serenity: "sir, since my indiscretion in making myself surety for my friend is the cause of your anger, i will with all the haste possible do what i can to satisfy you. at the same time, i wish you to know that had you plucked out one of my eyes, i would have looked as affectionately at you with the other, as at the dearest friend i have in the world." the creditor retired, covered indeed with confusion, but still muttering injurious words, and calling the holy bishop a hypocrite, a bigot, and the like. blessed francis immediately sent an account of the affair to the real debtor, who came as quickly as was possible and at once discharged the debt. the creditor, full of shame and repentance, hastened to ask pardon of our blessed father, and he, receiving the prodigal with open arms, treated him ever afterwards with special tenderness, calling him his _friend regained_. again, when he was in paris in , having gone there with the cardinal of savoy, who wished to be present at the marriage of his brother, the prince of piedmont, with madame christine of france, the king's sister, our blessed father was told that a man of tolerably good position professing the so-called reformed religion wished to see him. introduced into the bishop's apartment, the protestant, without the smallest sign of reverence, or even courtesy, addressed him in these words: "are you what they call the bishop of geneva?" "sir," replied our holy prelate, "that is my title, though in that city i am not so much in request as i am in the other parts of the diocese committed to my charge." "well, i should just like to know from you, who are regarded everywhere as an apostolic man, whether the apostles were in the habit of going about in carriages?" our blessed father, in telling me this story, owned that he was somewhat taken aback by the suddenness of this attack! collecting his thoughts, however, and remembering the case of st. philip the deacon, who, though not the apostle of that name, was undoubtedly an apostolic man, and who went up into the chariot of queen candace's eunuch, he answered quietly that they did so when convenience required it, and the occasion for doing so presented itself. "i should be very glad," replied the man, scornfully, "if you could show me that in scripture." the bishop quoted the instance to which we have just referred. his opponent, not noticing the fact of this not being st. philip the apostle, retorted, "but this carriage was not his own, it belonged to the eunuch, who invited him to come up into it," "i never told you," answered francis, "that the carriage was his own. i only said that when the occasion presented itself the first preachers of the gospel rode in carriages." "but not in gilded coaches such as yours, sir," returned the protestant, "nor drawn by such splendid horses, nor driven by a coachman in such superb livery. why, the king himself has nothing better! this is what i complain of; and this it is in you which scandalizes me. and you, above all, who play the saint, and whom the papists look upon as such. fine saints, forsooth, who go to paradise so much at their ease!" blessed francis, seeing at once where the shoe pinched, answered gently, "alas, sir, the people of geneva who have seized upon the property belonging to my see have cut me down so close as regards money that i have barely enough to live upon in the most frugal way. as to a carriage, i have never had one, nor money enough to buy one." "then that splendid carriage, which is, so to speak, regal, in which i see you every day driving about the city is not your own?" rejoined the antagonist. "certainly not," replied the bishop, "and you are quite right in calling it regal, for it belongs to his majesty, and is one of those set apart by him for people who, like myself, are mere attendants of the princes of savoy. the royal livery worn by the servants ought to have shown you this!" "now, indeed," said the protestant, "i am satisfied, and i esteem you. i see that you are in the right, and that, notwithstanding, you are humble." after some further remarks he put some questions as to the birth and manner of life of the saint, and was so perfectly contented with his replies that he quitted him with expressions of esteem and affection, and ever afterwards held him in the highest respect. again, preaching during an advent and lent at grenoble, not only a great concourse of catholics flocked to hear him, but also such numbers of protestants of the geneva following that their ministers became alarmed and held meetings to decide what measures should be taken to avert a storm, which threatened desolation to their strongholds and was fast emptying their conventicles. they decided at last on a personal conflict with their opponent, choosing one of their most furious pastors, a man of violent temper and bitter tongue, to argue with blessed francis, and, as they expected, to worst him in a controversy. the holy bishop, who had already had much practice and success in this kind of warfare at thonon, ternier, and gaillard, the bailiwicks of his diocese which he had brought back into the bosom of the true church, cheerfully agreed to the proposal. in answer to the remonstrances of his friends, and especially of one gentleman of belley, a man of the greatest probity and piety, who painted the protestant ministers in the blackest colours, and told the bishop that insults would literally be heaped upon him, he replied, "well, that is exactly what we want; this contempt is just what i ask. for how great is the glory to himself that god will derive from my confusion!" on his friends reminding him that he would be exposing his sacred office to derision, "what of that?" replied the bishop, "did not our saviour suffer shame for us--were not insults heaped upon him?" "oh," said the other, "you aim too high." "to tell you the truth," said our saint, "i am hoping that god will give me the grace to endure insults without end, for when we are finely humbled he will be gloriously exalted. you will see conversion upon conversion following the train of this affair, a thousand falling on the left hand and ten thousand on the right, god is wont at all times to make our infamy redound to his honour. did not the apostles come forth rejoicing from those assemblies in which they had suffered contumely for the name of jesus? take courage, god will help us; those who hope in him never lack any good thing and are never confounded." was it possible to carry patience further than this? doubtless, had the meeting taken place, the envenomed darts of heresy would have glanced aside from the spotless, shining shield of faith carried by blessed francis, but the devil, fearing to be worsted in the fight, suggested so many prudent reasons to the protestant minister's friends, who, in reality, had their doubts about both his virtue and his capacity for conducting the conference that they got it forbidden by the lieutenant of the king, though himself at that time a heretic. another striking example of patience. a person of some influence and consideration once applied to blessed francis asking him to obtain an ecclesiastical preferment for a certain priest. the bishop replied that in the matter of conferring benefices he had, of his free will, tied his own hands, having left the choosing of fitting subjects to the decision of a board of examiners, who were to recommend the person to be appointed after due examination of the merits and talents of the candidates. as for himself, he said, he simply presided over the meeting. should, however, the gentleman's friend present himself as a candidate, he, the bishop, would promise to bear the recommendation in mind. the petitioner felt piqued at this answer, and quite losing his temper, replied to the bishop in the most disrespectful and even insulting manner. the gentle firmness with which his anger was met only infuriated him the more, and he eventually lost all command over himself. it was in vain that the bishop tried to soothe him by proposing to examine the claimant privately. this had no effect. the saint then said gently but gravely: "do you then wish me to give the charge of my sheep blindfolded and to the first comer? ask yourself if there is reasonableness in such a request as you are making?" but not even this appeal to his reason turned the flood of the man's wrath, and he quitted the bishop's presence in a passion of disrespect impossible to describe. a most excellent priest who had been in the room all through the interview asked the bishop, after the departure of his impudent visitor, how he could bear such treatment with the patience he showed. "well," he answered, "it was not he himself that spoke, it was his passion. after all he is one of my best friends, and you will see that my silence on this occasion will only make our friendship the stronger. "more than this. has not god from all eternity foreseen that these insults would be offered to me to-day, and foreseen, too, that he would bestow on me such grace as would enable me to bear them joyfully? should i not drain the chalice held to my lips by the hands of so loving a father? oh! how sweet is this inebriating cup, offered to me by a hand which from my infancy i have learnt to adore." "but," returned the priest, "were not your feelings stirred at all by this treatment?" "well," replied the bishop, "i tried to overcome them by fixing my thoughts on the good qualities of the man whose friendship i have so long and so happily enjoyed. then, too, i hope that when this storm in a tea-cup has subsided and the clouds of passion have lifted, my friend will come back to me with peace in his heart and serenity on his countenance." nor was the saint's expectation disappointed. his friend did come back, and with many tears begged his forgiveness; a forgiveness which was, you may be sure, granted so fully and with such loving readiness as to increase the fervour and sincerity of their old and mutual affection. a rejoinder both striking and instructive. in the course of his long mission in the chablais, he one day preached on that text which commands us to offer the right cheek to him who smites us on the left. as he came down from the pulpit he was accosted by a protestant who asked him if he felt that he could practise what he had just preached, or whether he was not rather one of those who preach but do not practise. the saint replied: "my dear brother, i am but a weak man and beset by infirmities. at the same time, miserable though i feel myself to be, god teaches me what i ought to do. i cannot tell you what i should actually do, because though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. at the same time we know, that while without grace we can do nothing, with its aid we can do everything; a reed in the hand of grace becomes a mighty staff that cannot be broken. if we are told to be willing to give our life itself in defence of our faith, how much more does it behove us to endure some small affront for the maintenance of charity! moreover, were i to be such a recreant to the grace of god as not to bear an insult of this kind patiently, let me remind you that the same gospel which reproves those who preach but do not practise, warns us against following the example of such teachers, though it bids us do what they tell us to do." "yet," resumed the other, "our saviour never presented the other cheek to the servant of the high priest who struck him; on the contrary he resented the act." "what!" cried the holy bishop, "you place our lord on a level with those who preach but do not practise! that is blasphemy! as for us, we entertain more reverent feelings towards that model of all perfection. it is not for us to comment on the actions of him who, as we firmly believe, could not act otherwise than most perfectly. neither is it for us to dare to say: 'why hast thou done thus?' yet we may well remember his zeal for the salvation of that impious man's soul, and the remonstrances which he deigned to use in order to bring him to repentance. nay, did he not offer not only his cheek to the smiter, but his whole sacred body to the cruel scourging which covered him with wounds from head to foot?" blessed francis' favourite beatitude. he was once asked which, in his opinion, was the most perfect of the eight beatitudes. it was thought that he would answer: "the second, blessed are the meek," but it was not so; he gave the preference to the eighth: _blessed are they that suffer for justice' sake_. he explained his preference by saying that "the life of those who are persecuted for justice' sake is hidden in god with jesus christ, and becomes conformable to his image; for was not he persecuted all through his earthly life for justice' sake, although he fulfilled it in all its perfection? such persons are, as it were, shrouded by the veil which hides the countenance of god. they appear sinful, but they are just; dead, but they live; fools, but they are wise; in a word, though despised in the sight of men, they are dear to god with whom they live for ever. "should god have given me one particle of justice, enabling me thereby to do some little good, it would be my wish that in the day of judgment, when all secrets are revealed, god alone should know my righteousness, and that my sinful actions should be proclaimed to all creatures." his gravity and affability. grace produced in him that wonderful and perfectly harmonious blending of gravity and affability, which was perhaps his most distinguishing characteristic. there was in his whole demeanour and in the very expression of his face a lofty and dignified beauty which inspired reverence and even a sort of fear--that is, such fear as engenders respect and makes any undue familiarity impossible. yet, at the same time he displayed such sweetness and gentleness as to encourage all who approached him. no one, however conscious of his own want of attractiveness, feared a repulse from the holy bishop, and all, feeling sure of a welcome, were only eager to please and satisfy him. for my own part i must confess that when i succeeded in doing anything which he was able to praise, and which consequently gave him pleasure, i was so happy and elated that i felt as if i were raised to the seventh heaven! indeed, had he not taught me to refer everything to god, many of my actions would, i fear, have stopped half-way thither. people of high standing in society, accustomed even to come into close contact with royalty itself, have assured me that, in the presence of our saint, they felt a subtle influence guarding, restraining, elevating them as no other companionship, however noble and distinguished, could ever do. it was as though in him they saw some reflection of the all-penetrating intelligence of god himself, lighting up the inmost recesses of their heart, and laying bare its mysteries. yet his affability was no less marvellous, making itself felt the instant you came in contact with him. it was not like a quality or grace acquired; it was not in any way apart from his own personality, it was as if he were affability personified. hence that power of winning over others, of making himself all things to all men, of gaining the support of so many in his plans and schemes, all of which had but one aim and object, namely, the increase of the glory of god and the promotion of the salvation of souls. how blessed francis dealt with a criminal who despaired of salvation. he was once asked to visit in prison a poor criminal already condemned to death, but who could not be induced to make his confession. the unhappy man had committed crimes so terrible that he despaired of the forgiveness even of god, and having often during his lifetime met death face to face in battle and in duels, he appeared to be quite ready again to meet it boldly; nay, so hardened was he by the devil that he even spoke calmly of hell, as of the abode destined for him for eternity. our blessed father finding him in this frame of mind, and altogether cold, hard, and reckless, proclaiming himself the prey of satan and a victim prepared for hell, thus addressed him: "my brother, would you not rather be the prey of god and a victim of the cross of jesus christ?" "what," cried the criminal, "do you think that god would have anything to do with a victim as repulsive as i am?" "oh, god!" was the silent prayer of blessed francis, "remember thine ancient mercies and the promise which thou hast made never to quench utterly the smoking flax nor wholly to break the bruised reed. thou who wiliest not the death of the sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live, make happy the last moments of this poor soul." then he spoke aloud replying to the despairing words of the poor wretch, for, horrifying though they were, they had proved to the skilled workman that there was something left to work upon, that faith in god was not yet wholly dead in that poor heart. "at any rate, would you not rather abandon yourself to god than to the evil one?" "most assuredly," replied the criminal, "but it is a likely thing indeed that' god would have anything to do with a man like me!" "it was for men like you," returned the bishop, "that the eternal father sent his son into the world, nay for worse than you, even for judas and for the miscreants who crucified him. jesus christ came to save not the just, but sinners." "but," cried the other, "can you assure me that it would not be presumption on my part to have recourse to his mercy?" "it would be great presumption," replied our saint, "to think that his mercy was not infinite, far above all sins not only possible but conceivable, and that his redemption was not so plentiful, but that it could make grace superabound where sin had poured forth a flood of evils. on the contrary, his mercy, which is over all his works, and which always overrides his justice, becomes so much the greater the greater the mountain of our sins. "upon that very mountain he sets up the throne of his mercy." with words such as these, kindling, or rather re-animating the spark of faith not yet wholly dead in the soul of the wretched man, he relighted the flame of hope, which up to that moment was quite extinguished, and little by little softened and tamed the man's natural temper, rendered savage by despair. he led him on at last to resignation, and persuaded him to cast himself into the arms of god for death and for life; to deal with him according to his own good pleasure, for his whole future in this world, or in the next. "but he will damn me," said the man, "for he is just." "no, he will pardon you," replied blessed francis, "if you cry to him for mercy, for he is merciful and has promised forgiveness to whoever implores it of him with a humble and contrite heart." "well," replied the criminal, "let him damn me if he pleases--i am his. he can do with me what the potter does with his clay." "nay," replied the holy bishop, "say rather with david, _i am thine, o lord, save me_." not to make the story too long, i may tell you that the holy bishop brought this man to confession, repentance, and contrition, and that he died with great constancy, sincerely acknowledging his sins and abandoning himself entirely to the most holy will of god. the last words which our blessed father made him utter were these: "o jesus, i give myself up to thee--i abandon myself wholly to thee." upon mortification. it is far better to mortify the body through the spirit than the spirit through the body. to deaden and beat down the body instead of trying to reduce the swelling of an inflated spirit is like pulling back a horse by its tail. it is behaving like balaam, who beat the ass which carried him, instead of taking heed to the peril which threatened him and which the poor beast was miraculously warning him to avoid. one of the three first postulants who entered the convent of the visitation, established by me at belley, left it before taking the novices' habit being unable to understand how religious could be holy in an order in which she saw so few austerities practised. she has since then, however, been disabused of her error, and has repented of it. at that time she was under the guidance of those who considered that holiness consisted in mortifications in respect of food and clothing: as if the stings of the flesh cease to be felt when you no longer eat of it, and as if you could not be temperate over partridges and gluttonous over cabbages. our blessed father, writing to a novice in one of his convents who was perplexed on this subject, says: "the devil does not trouble himself much about us if, while macerating our bodies, we are at the same time doing our own will, for he does not fear austerity but obedience. "what greater austerity can there be than to keep our will in subjection and in continual obedience, reassure yourself then, o lover of voluntary penance, if, indeed, the works of self-love deserve to be called penances! when you took the habit after many prayers and much consideration, it was thought good that you should enter the school of obedience and renunciation of your own will rather than remain the sport of your own judgment and of yourself. "do not then let yourself be shaken, but remain where our lord has placed you. it is true that there you suffer great mortifications of heart, seeing yourself so imperfect and so deserving of reproof and correction, but is not this the very thing you ought to seeks mortification of heart and a continual sense of your own misery? yet, you say, you cannot do such penance as you would. my dear daughter, tell me what better penance can be given to an erring heart than to bear a continual cross and to be always renouncing self-love?" upon the same subject. blessed francis was no great friend of unusual mortifications, and did not wish them to be practised except in the pressing necessity of violent temptations. in such cases it was his desire that those so assailed should try to repel force by force, employing that holy violence which takes heaven by storm, for, as by cutting and burning health is restored to the body, so also by these caustic remedies holiness is often preserved in the soul. he used to say that to those who made all kinds of exterior austerities their custom, the custom in time becomes a second nature;[ ] that those who had hardened their skin no longer felt any inconvenience from cold, from hard couches, or coarse garments, and that when the flame of concupiscence kindled this dry wood they possessed no remedy which they could apply to extinguish the fire. they are like the pagan king, who had so accustomed himself to feed upon poison that when he wished to end his miseries with his life by taking it, he was obliged to live on against his will, and to serve as a sport to his enemies. the devil cares very little about our body being laid low so long as he can hold on to us by the vices of the soul; and so cunning is he that often out of bodily mortifications, he extracts matter for vanity. our holy bishop wrote as follows to a person who regretted that her health prevented her from continuing her accustomed austerities: "since you do not find yourself any longer able to practise corporal mortifications and the severities of penance, and since it is not at all expedient that you should think of doing so, on which point we are perfectly agreed, keep your heart calm and recollected in the presence of its saviour; and as far as possible do what you may have to do solely to please god, and suffer whatever you may have to suffer according to his disposal of events in this life with the same intention. thus god will possess you wholly and will graciously allow you to possess him one day eternally." with regard to the various kinds of mortification, that which is inward and hidden is far more excellent than that which is exterior, the former not being compatible, as is the latter, with hypocrisy, vanity, or indiscretion. again, those mortifications which come upon us from without, either directly from god or through men by his permission, are always superior to those which depend upon our own choice and which are the offspring of our will. many, however, find here a stumbling block, being very eager to embrace mortifications suggested by their own inclinations, which, after all, however apparently severe, are really easy because they are what nature itself wants. on the other hand, mortifications which come to them from without and through others, however light they may be, they find insupportable. for example, a person will eagerly make use of disciplines, hair-shirts, and fasting, and yet will be so tender of his reputation that if once in a way laughed at or spoken against, he will become almost beside himself, robbed of his rest and even sometimes of his reason; and will perhaps in the end be driven to the most deplorable extremities. another will throw himself with ardour into the practice of prayer, penance, silence, and such like devotions, but will break out into a fury of impatience and complain indignantly and unrestrainedly at the loss of a law-suit, or at the slightest damage done to his property. another will give alms liberally and make magnificent foundations for the relief of the poor and sick, but will groan and tremble with fear when himself threatened with infirmity or sickness, however slightly; and upon experiencing the least possible bodily pain, will give vent to interminable lamentations. in proportion as people are more or less attached to honours, gain, or mere pleasures, they bear with less or more patience the hindrances to them; nor do the majority of men seriously consider that it is the hand of god which gives and which takes away, which kills and which makes alive, which exalts and which casts down, as it pleases him. in order to heal this spiritual malady in a certain person our blessed father wrote to her: "often and with all your heart kiss the crosses which god has laid upon your shoulders. do not consider whether they are of precious and sweet-scented wood or not. and, indeed, they are more truly crosses when they are of coarse, common, ill-smelling wood. it is strange, but one particular chant keeps ever coming back to my mind, and it is the only one i know. it is the canticle of the divine lamb; sad, indeed, but at the same time harmonious and beautiful--_father, not my will, but thine be done_."[ ] [footnote : it is not to be inferred that saint francis countenanced self-indulgence. he only wished to remove the idea common in his day, that devotion must be accompanied by austerity.--[ed.]] [footnote : luke xxii. .] upon fasting.[ ] one day when we were talking about that holy liberty of spirit of which he thought so highly, as being one of the great aids to charity, blessed francis told me the following anecdote, which is a most practical illustration of his feelings on the subject. he had been visited by a prelate, whom, with his accustomed hospitality and kindness, he pressed to remain with him for several days. when friday evening came, our blessed father went to the prelate's room inviting him to come to supper, which was quite ready. "supper!" cried his guest. "this is not a day for supper! surely, the least one can do is to fast once a week!" our holy bishop at once left him to do as he pleased, desiring the servants to take his collation to his room, while he himself joined the chaplains of the prelate and his own household at the supper table. the chaplains told him that this prelate was so exact and punctilious in discharging all his religious exercises, of prayer, fasting, and such like, that he never abated one of them, whatever company he might have. not that he refused to sit down to table with his visitors on fast days, but that he ate nothing but what was permitted by the rule he had imposed on himself. our blessed father, after telling me this, went on to say that condescension was the daughter of charity, just as fasting is the sister of obedience; and that where obedience did not impose the sacrifice, he would have no difficulty in preferring condescension and hospitality to fasting. the lives of the saints furnish frequent examples of this. above all, scripture assures us, that by hospitality some have merited to receive angels; from which declaration st. paul takes occasion to exhort the faithful not to forget liberality and hospitality, as sacrifices well pleasing to god.[ ] "remember," he said, "that we must not be so deeply attached to our religious exercises, however pious, as not to be ready sometimes to give them up. for, if we cling to them too tightly, under the pretext of fidelity and steadfastness, a subtle self-love will glide in among them, making us forget the end in the means, and then, instead of pressing on, nor resting till we rest in god himself, we shall stop short at the means which lead to him. "as regards the occurrence of which i have been telling you, one friday's fast, thus interrupted, would have concealed many others; and to conceal such virtues is no less a virtue than those which are so concealed. god is a hidden god, who loves to be served, prayed to, and adored in secret, as the gospel testifies.[ ] you know what happened to that unthinking king of israel, who, for having displayed his treasures to the ambassadors of a barbarian prince, was deprived of them all, when that same heathen king descended upon him with a powerful army. "the practice of the virtue of condescension or affability may often with profit be substituted for fasting. i except, however, the case of a vow, for in that we must be faithful even to death, and care nothing about what men may say, provided that god is served. _they that please men have been confounded, because god hath despised them._"[ ] he asked me one day if it was easy for me to fast. i answered that it was perfectly easy, as it was a rare thing for me to sit down to table with any appetite. "then," he rejoined, "do not fast at all." on my expressing great astonishment at these words, and venturing to remind our blessed father that it was a mortification, strongly recommended to us by god himself. "yes," he replied, "but for those who have better appetites than you have. do some other good work, and keep your body in subjection by some other mode of discipline." he went on, however, to say that fasting was, indeed, the greatest of all corporal austerities, since it puts the axe to the root of the tree. the others only touch the bark lightly; they only scrape or prune it. whereas when the body waxes fat it often kicks, and from this sort of fatness sin is likely to proceed. "those who are naturally sober, temperate, and self-restrained have a great advantage over others in the matter of study and spiritual things. they are like horses that have been well broken in, horses which have a strong bridle, holding them in to their duty." he was no friend to immoderate fasting, and never encouraged it in his penitents, as we see in his "introduction to a devout life," where he gives this reason against the practice: "when the body is over-fed, the mind cannot support its weight; but when the body is weak and wasted. it cannot support the mind." he liked the one and the other to be dealt with in a well-balanced manner, and said that god wished to be served with a reasonable service; adding--that it was always easy to bring down and reduce the bodily forces, but that it was not so easy a matter to build them up again when thus brought low. it is easy to wound, but not to heal. the mind should treat the body as its child, correcting without crushing it: only when it revolts must it be treated as a rebellious subject, according to the words of the apostle: _i chastise my body and bring it into subjection_.[footnote ] [footnote : the saint is here speaking of fasts of devotion, not of those of obligation.--[ed.]] [footnote : heb. xiii. , .] [footnote : matt. vi. .] [footnote : psalm lii. .] [footnote : cor. ix. .] doubts solved as to soldiers fasting. i was so young when called to the episcopate that i lived in a state of continual mistrust and uncertainty; doubtful about this, scrupulous about that; ignorance being the grandmother of scruples, as servile fear is their mother. at the time of which i am going to speak, the residences of our blessed father and myself were only eight leagues apart, and in all my perplexities and difficulties i had recourse to his judgment and counsel. i kept a little foot-boy in my service, almost entirely employed in running to and fro between belley and annecy, carrying my letters to him and bringing back his replies. these replies were to me absolute decrees; nay, i should rather say oracles, so manifestly did god speak by the mouth and pen of that holy man. on one occasion it happened that the captains of some troops--then stationed in garrison on the borders of savoy and france, on account of a misunderstanding which had arisen between the two countries--came to me at the beginning of lent to ask permission for their men to eat eggs and cheese during that season. this was a permission which i had never given except to the weak and sickly. i learned from the men themselves that they were exceedingly robust and hearty, and only weak and reduced as regarded their purses, their pay being so small that it barely supplied them with food. nevertheless, i did not consider this poor pay a sufficient reason for granting a dispensation, especially in a district where lent is so strictly kept that the peasants are scandalized when told that on certain days they may eat butter. in my difficulty i despatched a letter at once to our blessed father, whose reply was full of sweetness and kindness. he said that he honoured the faith and piety of the good centurions, who had presented this request, which, indeed, deserved to be granted, seeing that it edified, not the synagogue, but the church. he added that i ought not only to grant it, but to extend it, and instead of eggs, to permit them to eat oxen, and instead of cheese, the cows of whose milk it is made. "truly," he went on to say, "you are a wise person to consult me as to what soldiers shall eat in lent, as if the laws of war and necessity did not over-ride all others without exception! is it not a great thing that these good men submit themselves to the church, and so defer to her as to ask her permission and blessing? god grant that they may do nothing worse than eat eggs, cheese, or beef; if they were guilty of nothing more heinous than that, there would not be so many complaints against them." the golden mean in dispensations. "it is quite true," said our blessed father, on one occasion, "that there are certain matters in which we are meant to use our own judgment, and in which, if we judge ourselves, we shall not be chastised by god. but there are others in which, with the eye of our soul, that is, with our judgment, it is as with the eye of the body, which sees all things excepting itself. we need a mirror. now, this mirror, as regards interior things, is the person to whom we manifest our conscience, and who is its judge in the place of god." he went on to say that in the matter of granting dispensations to his flock, he had told a certain prelate, who had consulted him on the subject, that the best rule to give to others, or to take for oneself in such questions, is to love one's neighbour as oneself, and oneself as others, in god and for god. "if," he continued, addressing the prelate, "you now take more trouble about granting these necessary dispensations to others than in getting them for yourself, the time will come when you will be generous, easy, and indulgent towards others, and severe and rigorous towards yourself. perhaps you imagine that this second line of conduct is better than the other. it is not, and you will find the repose and peace of your soul only in the golden mean, which is the one wholesome atmosphere for the nourishing of virtue." upon the words, "eat of anything that is set before you." our blessed father held in great esteem the gospel maxim, _eat such things as are set before you_.[ ] he deemed it a much higher and stronger degree of mortification to accommodate the tastes and appetite to any food, whether pleasant or otherwise, which may be offered, than always to choose the most inferior and coarsest kinds. for it not seldom happens that the greatest delicacies--or those at least which are esteemed to be such by epicures--are not to our taste, and therefore to partake of them without showing the least sign of dislike is by no means so small a matter as may be thought. it incommodes no one but the person who so mortifies himself, and it is a little act of self-restraint so secret, so securely hidden from others, that the rest of the company imagine something quite different from the real truth. he also considered that it was a species of incivility when seated at a meal to ask for some dish which was at the other end of the table, instead of taking what was close at hand. he said that such practices were evidence of a mind too keen about viands, sauces, and condiments; too much absorbed in mere eating and drinking. if, he added, this careful picking out of dishes is not done from greediness or gluttony, but from a desire to choose the worst food, it smacks of affectation, which is as inseparable from ostentation as smoke from fire. the conduct of people who do this is not unlike that of guests who take the lowest seats at the table, in order that they may, with the greater _éclat_, be summoned to the higher places. the following incident will show his own indifference. one day poached eggs were served to him, and when he had eaten them, he continued to dip his bread in the water in which they had been cooked, apparently without noticing what he was doing. the guests were all smiling. upon discovering the cause of their amusement, he told them it was too bad of them to undeceive him, as he was taking the sauce with much relish, verifying the proverb that "hunger is the best sauce"! [footnote : luc. x. .] upon the state of perfection. the degree of perfection to which our blessed father brought his religious he makes manifest to us in one of his letters. "do you know," he says, "what the cloister is? it is the school of exact correction, in which each individual soul must learn the lesson of allowing itself to be so disciplined, planed, and polished that at length, being quite smooth and even, it may be fit to be joined, united, and absolutely assimilated with the will of god. "to wish to be corrected is an evident sign of perfection, for the principal point of humility is realizing our need of it. "a convent is a hospital for the spiritually sick. the sick wish to be cured, and, therefore, they willingly submit to be lanced, probed, cut, cauterized, and subjected to any and every pain and discomfort which medicine or surgery may suggest. "in the early days of the church, religious were called by a name which signifies healers. oh! my daughter, be truly your own healer, and pay no heed to what self-love may whisper to the contrary. say to yourself, since i do not wish to die spiritually, i will be healed, and in order to be healed i will submit to treatment and correction, and i will entreat the doctors to spare me nothing which may be required to effect my cure." marks of progress in perfection. our blessed father, who did not like people to be too introspective and self-tormenting, said that they should, however, walk as it is written of the maccabees, _caute et ordinate_;[ ] that is, with circumspection and order, or, to use a common expression, "bridle in hand." and one of the best proofs of our advancement in virtue is, he said, a love of correction and reproof; for it is a sign of a good digestion easily to assimilate tough and coarse food. in the same way it is a mark of spiritual health and inward vigour to be able to say with the psalmist, _the just man shall correct me in mercy and shall reprove me._[ ] it is a great proof of our hating vice, and of the faults which we commit, proceeding rather from inadvertence and frailty, than from malice and deliberate intention, that we welcome the warnings which make us think on our ways, and turn back our feet (that is to say, our affections) into the testimonies of god, by which is meant the divine law. an old philosopher said that to want to get well is part of the sick man's cure. the desire to keep well is a sign of health. he who loves correction necessarily desires the virtue contrary to the fault for which he is reproved, and therefore profits by the warnings given him to escape the vice from which his fault proceeded. a sick person who is really anxious to recover his health takes without hesitation the remedies prescribed by the physician, however sharp, bitter, and painful they may be. he who aims at perfection, which is the full health, and true holiness of the soul, finds nothing difficult that helps him to arrive at that end. justice and judgment, that is to say correction, establish in him the seat of perfect wisdom. in a word, _better are the wounds of a friend_ (like those of a surgeon who probes only to heal) _than the deceitful kisses of a_ flatterer, _an enemy_.[ ] [footnote : mach. vi. .] [footnote : psalm cxl. .] [footnote : prov. xxvii. .] upon the perfection aimed at in religious houses. our blessed father was speaking to me one day on the subject of exterior perfection, and on the discontent expressed by certain religions, who, in their particular order, had not found the strictness and severity of rule they desired. he said: "these good people seem to me to be knocking their heads against a stone wall. christian perfection does not consist in eating fish, wearing serge, sleeping on straw, stripping oneself of one's possessions, keeping strict vigils, and such like austerities. for, were this so, pagans would be the more perfect than christians, since many of them voluntarily sleep on the bare ground, do not eat a morsel of meat throughout the whole year, are ragged, naked, shivering, living for the most part only on bread and water, and on that bread of suffering, too, which is far harder and heavier than the blackest of crusts. if perfection consisted in exterior observances such as these, they would have to go back in perfection were they to enter even the most strictly reformed of our religious houses, for in none is a life led nearly so austere as theirs. "the question then is in what does the essential perfection of a christian life consist? it must surely in the first place include the assiduous practice of charity, for exterior mortifications without charity are of no account. st. paul, we know, reckons martyrdom itself as nothing, unless quickened by charity. "i do not exactly know what standard of perfection they who insist so much upon exterior mortification wish to set up. "surely the greater or lesser degree of charity is the true measure of sanctity and the measure also of the excellence of religious rule. now, in what rule is charity, the queen of the virtues, more recommended that in that of st. augustine? which seems to be nothing but one long discourse on charity. "however, it is not a question of comparing one rule with another, it is rather of noticing which rule is as a matter of fact best observed. for even had other rules, in regard to the exterior perfectness of the life they prescribe, every advantage over that of st. augustine, who does not know that it is safer to enter a community in which a rule of less excellence is exactly observed, rather than another where a higher kind of rule is preached but not kept? of what use are laws if they are not observed? "the consequence, in my opinion, of the mistake made by those who put over-much stress on esteem of mortification, is, that even religious get accustomed to make use in their judgments of those lying balances of which the psalmist speaks,[ ] and that the simple-minded are forced to trust to the guidance of blind leaders. hence it has come to pass that true and essential perfection is not what the majority of people think it to be, nor is it reached by the road along which the many travel. may god have pity on us, and bless us with the light of his countenance, so that we may know his way upon the earth, and may declare his salvation to all nations, and may he turn aside from us in this our day, that which he once threatened to those who thought themselves wise: _let them alone, they are blind leaders of the blind._"[ ] [footnote : psalm lxi. .] [footnote : matt. xv. .] upon frugality. the following notable example of frugality and economy was related to me by our blessed father himself. monseigneur vespasian grimaldi, who was piedmontese by birth, made a tolerably large fortune in france as an ecclesiastic, during the regency of catherine de medicis. he was raised to the dignity of archbishop of vienne in dauphiné, and held several other benefices which brought him in a large revenue. having amassed all these riches at court, his desire was to live there in great pomp and splendour, but whether it was that god did not bless his designs, or that he was too much addicted to extravagance and display, certain it is that he was always in difficulties, not only about money, but even about his health. weary at last of dragging on a life so troubled and so wretched, he resolved to quit the court, and to retire into a peaceful solitude. he had often in past days remarked the extraordinary beauty of the banks of lake leman, where nature seems to scatter her richest gifts with lavish hand, and there he resolved to fix his abode in a district subject to his own sovereign, the duke of savoy, and settling down in that quiet spot to spend the remainder of his days in peace. he selected for this purpose the little village and market town of evian, so called because of the abundance and clearness of its lovely streams and fountains. the little town is situated on the very margin of the lake, and backed by an outlying stretch of country is as charming to, the eye as it is rich and fertile. there, having given up his archbishopric and all his benefices, reserving only to himself a pension of two thousand crowns, he established a retreat into which he was accompanied by only three or four servants. he was at this time sixty-five years old, but weighed down by physical infirmities much more than by the burden of his years. he had chosen this particular spot purposely because there was no approach to it from the high road, and there was little fear of visits from that great world of which he was now so weary, in the crush and tumult of which he had spent so large a portion of his life in consequence of his position at court. another reason for his choosing evian was that the little township being in the diocese of geneva, which is included in the province of vienne in dauphiné, in settling there he was not leaving his own province. living then in this calm retreat, free from all bustle and all burdens of office, with no show and state to keep up, having nothing to attend to but the sanctification of his soul and the restoration of his bodily health, a marvellous change was soon observed in him. inward peace gave back to him health so vigorous and settled that those who had known him in the days of his infirmity declared him to be absolutely rejuvenated, and truly he did feel in his soul a renewal of strength like that of the eagle. this he attributed to exercises of the contemplative life to which he now devoted himself with fervour. we see thus how true is the divine oracle which tells us that to those who seek first the kingdom of god and his justice all temporal things necessary shall be given,[ ] for god prospered this good prelate in even his worldly affairs. the small sum of money which he had reserved for himself, and which he spent in the most frugal and judicious manner possible, so increased that when he died at the age of a hundred and two or a hundred and three years, he left behind him more than , crowns. by his will he ordered the whole to be distributed in benefactions and alms throughout the neighbourhood, and in fact it relieved every necessitous person to be found round about. it was this very mgr. vespasian grimaldi who, assisted by the bishops of saint-paul-trois-châteaux, and of damascus, conferred episcopal consecration upon blessed francis in the church of thorens, in the diocese of geneva, on the feast of the immaculate conception of our lady, december th, . from this notable example we may easily gather: . that for prelates the atmosphere of courts is not to be recommended. . that it is favourable neither to the growth of holiness nor the maintenance of physical health. . that great fortunes entail great slavery and great anxieties. . a peaceful, tranquil, and hidden life, even from the point of view of common sense and of the dictates of nature, is the happiest. . that much more is this so when looked at in the light of grace and of the soul's welfare. . that the old saying is quite true that there is no surer way to increase one's income than that of frugality and judicious economy. . that one never has money enough to meet all the claims of worldly show and vain ostentation. . that he who lives in the style the world expects of him is never rich, while he who regulates his expenditure simply by his natural needs is never poor. . that almsdeeds is an investment which multiplies itself a hundredfold even in this present life and ensures the fruit of a blessed eternity in the next, provided only they have been given in the love, and for the love of god. [footnote : matt. vi. .] blessed francis' esteem of the virtue of simplicity. our blessed father had the highest possible esteem for the virtue of simplicity. indeed, my sisters, you know what a prominent place he gives to it in his letters, his spiritual conferences, and elsewhere. whenever he met with an example of it he rejoiced and openly expressed his delight. i will here give you one instance which he told me, as it were exulting over it. after having preached the advent and lent at grenoble, he paid a visit to la grande chartreuse, that centre of wonderful devotion and austerity, the surroundings of which are so wild, solitary, and almost terrible in their ruggedness, that st. bernard called it _locus horroris et vastæ solitudinis_. at the time of his visit, the prior general of the whole order was dom bruno d'affringues, a native of st. omer, a man of profound learning and of still more profound humility and simplicity. i knew him well, and can bear witness to the beauty of his character, which in its extreme sweetness and simplicity had something in it not of this earth. he received blessed francis on his arrival with his usual delightful courtesy and sincerity. after having conducted him to a guest chamber suited to his rank, and having talked with him on many lofty and sublime subjects, he suddenly remembered that it was some feast day of the order. he therefore took leave of the bishop, saying that he would gladly have stayed with him much longer, but that he knew his honoured guest would prefer obedience to everything else, and that he must retire to his cell to prepare for matins, it being the feast of one of their great saints. our saint approved highly of this exact observance of rule, and they separated with mutual expressions of respect and regard. on his way to his cell, however, the prior was met by the procurator of the monastery, who asked him where he was going and where he had left his lordship, the bishop of geneva. "i have left him," the prior answered, "in his own chamber, and i took leave of him that i might go to our cell and be ready to say matins to-night in choir because of to-morrow's feast." "truly, reverend father," said the procurator, "you are well up in the ceremonies of the world indeed! why, it is only a feast of our own order! do we, out in this desert, have every day for our guests prelates of such distinction? do you not know that god takes pleasure when for a sacrifice to him we offer hospitality and kindliness? you will always have leisure to sing the praises of god; you will have plenty of other opportunities for saying matins; but who can entertain such a prelate better than you? what a disgrace to the house that you should leave him thus alone!" "my son," replied the reverend father, "i see that you are quite right and that i have certainly done wrong." so saying he at once retraced his steps to the bishop of geneva's apartment, and finding him, there said humbly: "my lord, on leaving you i met one of our brethren who told me that i had been guilty of discourtesy in leaving you thus all alone; that i should have an opportunity at another time of making up for my absence from matins, but that we do not every day have a bishop of geneva under our roof. i see that he is in the right and i have come back at once to ask your pardon, and to beg you to excuse my apparent rudeness, for i assure you truthfully that _it was done in ignorance_." blessed francis was enraptured with this straightforwardness, candour, and simplicity, and told me that he was more delighted with it than if he had seen the good prior work a miracle. blessed francis' love of exactitude. this same dom bruno was remarkable for his exactitude and punctuality, virtues which our blessed father always both admired and praised. he was so exact in the observance of the smallest monastic detail that no novice could have surpassed him in carefulness. at the same time he never allowed himself to be carried away by indiscreet fervour, beyond the line laid down in his rule, knowing how much harm would be done to his inferiors by his not preserving a calm and even tenor of life, making himself all things to men, that he might win them and keep them for jesus christ. he would never allow the smallest austerities to be practised beyond those prescribed by the constitutions of the order. though rigorous towards himself he was marvellously indulgent towards those whom he governed in the monastery. for himself he had the heart of a judge, for them that of a mother. our holy bishop, drawing a comparison between him and his predecessor, who was addicted to such excessive austerities that it seemed as if he had either no body at all, or one of iron, said: "the late prior was like those unskilful physicians who by their treatment fill up our cemeteries: for many who desired to imitate his mortified life, and through a zeal without knowledge, tried to do what was beyond their strength, ended by falling into the pit. on the other hand, the actual prior of the grand chartreuse, by his gentleness and moderation, maintains among his monks, peace and humility of soul, together with health of body, making them preserve their strength for god, that is to say, so as to serve him longer and with greater earnestness in those exercises which tend to his glory. in doing this he follows the example of the patriarch jacob, who, on his return from mesopotamia, could have reached his father's house much sooner had he accepted the offer of camels made by his brother esau, when he came to meet him. but jacob preferred to accommodate his pace to that of his little ones, of his children, and even of the lambs of his flock, rather than to press on at the risk of throwing his household and followers into disorder." this example was a favourite one with our blessed father, and i am reminded of another of the same kind, which he valued almost as much. "have you read," he once said to me, "the life of blessed aloysius gonzaga of the society of jesus? if you have, perhaps you have remarked what it was that made that young prince so quickly become holy, and almost perfect. it was his extreme exactitude and punctuality, and his faithful observance of the constitutions of his order. this was such that he refused to put one foot before the other, so to speak, or draw back a single step in order to gratify himself. this, not of course in regard to things commanded, or forbidden, for the law of god leaves us in no doubt about such, but in those indifferent matters which, being neither commanded nor forbidden, often make correct discernment difficult." there are some who imagine that this way of discerning the will of god is impracticable for persons in the world, and that it is only out of the world, as they call the cloistered life, that one can have recourse to it. now, although we do not deny that in the well-regulated and holy life of a convent by means of obedience, and through the medium of superiors, the knowledge of god's will in things indifferent can be more perfectly ascertained, and more readily acted upon, than in any other state of life, still we venture to maintain that even in the world it is easier to ascertain god's will, even in things indifferent, than might at first sight appear." it was one of blessed francis' common maxims that great fidelity towards god may be practised even in the most indifferent actions, and he considered that to be a lower degree of fidelity which is only available for great and striking occasions. he who is careful with farthings, how much more so will he be with crowns? not that he loved scrupulous minds, those, namely, which are troubled and anxious about every trifle. no, indeed, but he desired that god should be loved by all with a vigilant and attentive love, exact, punctual, and faithful in the smallest matters, pictured to us by the rod the prophet used when watching the boiling caldron, to remove all the scum as it rose to the surface.[ ] and you may be sure that what he taught by word, he himself was the first to practise. he was the most punctual man i ever knew, the most exact, though without fussiness or worry. he was not only most accurate in all details of the service of the altar and of the choir, but, even when reciting his office in private, he never failed to observe all minutiæ of ceremonial in every way, bowing his head, genuflecting, etc., as if he were engaged in a solemn public function. in his intercourse with the world he was just as exact; he omitted no detail required by courtesy, he spared no pains to avoid giving inconvenience or annoyance to anyone. people who were old fashioned in their punctilious civilities, and tedious and lengthy in their ceremonious discourse, he treated with the most sweet and gracious forbearance, letting them say all they had to say, before he replied, and then answering as his duty and the laws of politeness required. all his actions were regular as clockwork, and the holy presence of god was the loadstar of his soul. one day i was complaining to him of the too great deference which he paid me. "and for how much then do you," he answered, "account jesus christ, whom i honour in your person?" "oh!" i replied, "if you take that ground, you ought to speak to me on your knees!" once two persons happened to be playing a game of skill when blessed francis was in the room. one was cheating the other. our holy prelate, indignant at this, remonstrated at once. "oh," was the careless reply, "we are only playing for farthings." and "supposing you were playing for guineas," returned francis, "how would it be then? he, who despises small faults will fall into great ones, but he who is faithful and honest in small matters will also be honest in great ones. he who fears to steal a pin will certainly not take a guinea. in fine, he who is faithful over a little shall be set over much." i should like while i am on this subject to add a short saying which was often on the lips of this blessed father. "fidelity towards god consists in abstaining from even the slightest faults, for great ones are so repulsive in themselves that often enough nature deters us from committing them." [footnote : jer. i. , .] a test of religious vocation. here i will relate a pleasant little incident which befell dom bruno, of whom i have spoken above. our blessed father often quoted it as an example for others. the germans, particularly those on the banks of the rhine, have a special devotion to st. bruno, who was a native of cologne, in which city he is highly honoured. a young man, a native of the same place, had a most ardent desire to enter the carthusian order, but his parents, influential people of the city, prevented his being received into the chartreuse of cologne, or into any other carthusian monastery in the neighbourhood. the youth, greatly distressed at this repulse, left the city in haste, and took refuge among the holy mountains where st. bruno and his companions made their first retreat. presenting himself at the grande chartreuse he asked to see the rev. fr. prior, and throwing himself at his feet, entreated that he might be clothed with the habit of the order, concealing nothing from him, neither his birth, nor his place of residence, nor the circumstances of his vocation, etc. the prior, observing that he was fragile in appearance and of an apparently delicate constitution, remonstrated, pointing out to him how great were the austerities of the order, and reminding him of the bleakness of the hills amidst which the monastery was situated, and of the perpetual winter which reigns there. the young man replied insisting that he knew all this, and had counted the cost, but that god would be his strength, and enable him by his grace to overcome all obstacles. "even though," said he, "_i should walk in the shadow of death i shall fear no evil provided that god be with me_." then the prior took a more serious tone. determined to test to the utmost the courage and resolution of the postulant, he asked him sharply if he knew all that was required of those who aspire to enter the carthusian order. "are you aware," he said, "that in the first place we require him to work at least one miracle? can you do that?" "i cannot," replied the young man, "but the power of god within me can. i trust myself entirely to his goodness. i am certain that having called me to serve him in this vocation, and implanted in me a thorough disgust for the things of the world, he will not permit me to look back, nor to return to that corrupt society which, with all my heart and soul, i have renounced. ask of me whatever sign you will, i am convinced that god will work a miracle, even through me, in testimony of this truth." 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._"[ ] [footnote : gal. ii. , .] 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.[ ] 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 : 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;[ ] 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,[ ] 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,[ ] 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 : matt. x. .] [footnote : rom. viii. .] [footnote : cor. xi. .] 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,[ ] and the sacred fire from the clay[ ], 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,[ ] 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 : gen. i. , .] [footnote : mach. i. , .] [footnote : gal. i. .] 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."[ ] 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._[ ] _no man can serve two masters, god and mammon._[ ] to follow one you must of necessity quit the other. _there is no fellowship between light and darkness or between christ and belial._[ ] "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 : conf. xii.] [footnote : john xii. .] [footnote : st. matt. .] [footnote : cor. vi. , .] 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_,[ ] 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_.[ ] 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_,[ ] 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 : psalm cxviii, .] [footnote : cant. ii. .] [footnote : psalm liv. .] 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_.[ ] _thou hast held me by my right hand; and by thy will thou hast conducted me, and with thy glory thou hast received me_.[ ] 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."[ ] [footnote : psalm xv. .] [footnote : psalm lxxii. .] [footnote : 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.[ ] 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 : cant. iii. .] 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."[ ] 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 : part ii. chap. .] his unity of spirit with god. _he who is joined to the lord is one spirit_,[ ] 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 : cor. vi. .] 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.[ ] "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 : cantic. i. , .] 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_.[ ] 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 : matt. v. .] 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_,[ ] 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_,[ ] and that _mourning taketh hold of the end of false joy._[ ] true, joy can only proceed from inward peace, and this peace from the testimony of a good conscience, which is called _a continual feast_.[ ] 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 : job xx. .] [footnote : job xxi. .] [footnote : prov. xiv. .] [footnote : ibid. xv. .] upon the degrees of true devotion. loving devotion, or devout love, has three degrees, which are: . when we perform those exercises which relate to the service of god, but with some sluggishness. . when we betake ourselves to them with readiness. . 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."[ ] 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 : _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 [ ]: "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 : _the devout life_. part i. c, .] 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;[ ] 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,[ ] 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."[ ] 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."[ ] 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 : s. thomas a, ae, quaest, lxxxi., art. .] [footnote : a, ae, quaest, lxxxii. to lxxxviii.] [footnote : _the devout life_, part i., chap. .] [footnote : book x., chap. .] 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,[ ] 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,[ ] 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 : psalm xxix. .] [footnote : gal. ii. .] 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._[ ] _he has the keys of life, and of death._[ ] _they who hope in him are never confounded._[ ] _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 : rom. xiv. ] [footnote : apoc. i. .] [footnote : psalm xxiv. .] that we must always submit ourselves to god's holy will. in , 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."[ ] 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;[ ] 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 : bk. ix., c. .] [footnote : 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_.[ ] evil, for, _shall there be evil in the city which the lord hath not done_?[ ] 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_,[ ] 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. .] [footnote ii: amos iii. .] [footnote iii: psalm lxxii. .] 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?_"[ ] 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 : rom. vii. .] 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."[ ] 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."[ ] 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 , : conf. .] 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_.[ ] 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 : luke ix, .] 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?_[ ] 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 : matt. xxvii. .] 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,[ ] 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."[ ] [footnote : tim. ii. .] [footnote : _the love of god_. bk. viii. .] 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,[ ] 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 : cor. xiii. , .] 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_,[ ] 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_.[ ] 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."[ ] 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 : st. peter iv. .] [footnote : col. iii .] [footnote : part iii., chap. .] 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,[ ] 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 : 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."[ ] [footnote : part ii., chap. .] 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."[ ] 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.[ ] 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 : cf. _the devout life_. part iv., c. .] [footnote : galat. vi. .] 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."[ ] [footnote : _love of god_. b. xii., c. .] 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_.[ ] and again: _you are redeemed with a great price, do not make yourselves slaves again_.[ ] 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 : ii. cor. iii. .] [footnote : cor. vii. ] 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. "do not," he says, "look at all at the substance of the things which you do, but rather, poor though they be, at the honour by which they are ennobled, that of being willed by god, ordered by his providence, and arranged by his wisdom, in a word, that of being pleasing to god. and if they please him, whom can they reasonably offend? strive, my dearest daughter, to become every day more pure in heart. "this purity of heart consists in setting on all things their true value, and in weighing them in the balance of the sanctuary, which balance is only another name for the wilt of god." in the same way in his theotimus he teaches that acts of the lesser virtues are often more pleasing to god, and consequently more meritorious, because done with great love, than the most splendid virtues when practised with less of heavenly charity. charity is the pure gold which makes us rich in immortal wealth. upon exaggerated introspection. blessed francis was not at all fond of too much self-introspection, or of the habit of turning an unimportant matter over and over a hundred times in the mind. he called this pernicious hair-splitting; or, with the psalmist: "spinning spiders' webs."[ ] people given to it he used to say are like the silkworm, which imprisons and entangles itself in its own cocoon. in his twelfth conference he speaks further on this subject. "the soul," he says, "which is wholly bent on pleasing its divine lover, has neither desire nor leisure to fall back upon itself. it presses on continually (or should do so) along the one straight path which has that love for its aim, not allowing itself to waste its powers in continual self-inspection for the purpose of seeing what it is doing or if it is satisfied. alas! our own satisfactions and consolations do not satisfy god, they only feed that miserable love and care of ourselves which is quite apart from god and the thought of him." a great deal of time is wasted in these useless considerations which would be far better employed in doing good works. by over considering whether we do right, we may actually do wrong. st. anthony was once asked how we might know if we prayed properly. "by not knowing it at all," he answered. he certainly prays well who is so taken up with god that he does not know he is praying. the traveller who is always counting his steps will not make much headway. [footnote : cf. ps. lxxxix. .] upon interior reformation. our blessed father used to say that, generally speaking, grace worked as nature, and not as art, does. art only reproduces what appears outwardly as in painting and sculpture, but nature begins her work from within, so that in a living creature the internal organs are formed before the skin, whence the saying that the heart is the first living part of man. when, therefore, he wished to lead souls on from a worldly to a devout life, he did not at first suggest changes in the exterior, in the dressing of the hair, in the fashion of garments, and so on. no, he spoke only to the heart, and of the heart, knowing that when once that stronghold is gained, nothing else can resist. "when a house is on fire, said he, see how all the furniture is thrown out of the window! so is it when the heart is possessed by true love of god, all that is not of god seems then to it of no moment at all. _if a man_, says the canticle of canticles _give all his riches for love he will think that he has done nothing_."[ ] i will give you a trifling illustration of this teaching which may be useful to you. a lady of high rank, having placed herself under the direction of the holy prelate, became more and more assiduous in attending the services of the church, spending much time in prayer and meditation, and, in what leisure was left her from her household cares, visiting the sick and poor. her friends and acquaintances, however, observed with surprise that she made no change at all in external matters, that her dress was as rich as ever, and that she laid aside none of her magnificent ornaments. this so scandalized them that they began to murmur openly, not only against her, but also against her director. they even went so far as to accuse her of hypocrisy, forgetting that a hypocrite always tries to appear better in the eyes of others than he really is, whereas she, in spite of interior amendment, remained quite unchanged in her exterior. the truth was that she did not in the least care for her ornaments, but as it was her husband's will that she should dress as before, she followed the example of esther, who, though she detested all vain pomp and show, to please assuerus, decked herself out with magnificence. on one occasion some busybody told our blessed father that this lady, devout though she was, had not even given up wearing ear-rings, and expressed great surprise that he who was so good a confessor had not advised her to have done with the like vanities. to all this francis replied with his accustomed gentleness, and with a touch of humour: "i assure you, i do not know that she has got ears, much less ear-rings in them. she always comes to confession with her head so completely enveloped in a great hood or scarf that i cannot see so much as its shape. then, too, let us remember that the saintly rebecca of old, who was quite as virtuous as this lady, lost nothing of her sanctity by wearing the ear-rings which eleazer presented to her as the gift of his master isaac!" thus did our blessed father deal with matters which are a stumbling-block to the weak and foolish, showing how true it is that all things work together for good to those who are good, and that to the pure all things are pure. [footnote : cant. viii. .] his vision of the most holy trinity. all christians ought to be not only devout but absolutely devoted to the most blessed trinity. it is the most august and fundamental of all our mysteries; it is that to which we are consecrated by our entrance into the holy church, for we are baptized in the name of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost. but you, my sisters, ought in an especial manner to be devoted to this great and ineffable mystery, remembering the wonderful vision which our blessed father, your founder, had on the day of his episcopal consecration. in that sublime vision almighty god showed him most clearly and intelligibly that the three adorable persons of the most holy trinity were operating in his soul, producing there special graces which were to aid him in his pastoral office, at the very moment that the three bishops who were consecrating him, blessed him, and performed all the holy ceremonies which render this action so great and so solemn. thenceforth he always regarded himself as consecrated to the ever-blessed trinity and as a vessel of honour and sanctification. then, too, in the year , he both founded and opened your institute on the day dedicated by the church to the memory and adoration of that incomprehensible mystery. trinity sunday that year happening to fall on the feast of st. claude, he gave you that saint as your special intercessor with the most holy trinity. again, you congregation began with three members only, and this of set purpose, in order to honour the blessed trinity as well as to accomplish what is written in the gospel, that when two or three are gathered together in the name, that is to say, for the glory of god, he will be in the midst of them, and will animate and govern them by his spirit; the spirit of love, unity, and concord, which makes us keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, and renders us one through love, as the father, the son, and the holy ghost are one only, in nature, essence, and substance. it is this peace of god, passing all understanding, which has up to the present time kept all the convents of your order in unity. woe to him who shall break down this defence and rampart! may the ever-blessed trinity avert this misery, and both regard and preserve you always, as adopted daughters of the father, adopted sisters of the son, and spouses of the holy ghost! amen. his devotion to our blessed lady. astrologers, as you know, make a great point of observing what star is rising on the horizon at the moment of a person's birth. they call it the ascendant, and it forms, as it were, the apex of their horoscope. well, this is an idle fancy, but we may draw from it a useful suggestion. it would be good for us to notice what star was in the ascendant in the heavens, that is to say, what blessed saint's feast day illumined the heaven of the church militant at the moment of our birth. i cannot tell you how much this knowledge has helped many a soul. ah! how bright and glorious an ascendant our blessed father had! seeing that he was born under the very sign and protection of the mother of god, on one of the days in the octave of her assumption, august st, . no wonder that he always had a special devotion to her and showed it in every possible way; among others, in giving her name to many of the confraternities and congregations established by him in the church. no wonder either that he had so great a love of purity, and that under the protection, and with the assistance of the queen of virgins, he should have consecrated himself to god in holy virginity and continence. you know that it was on the feast of the immaculate conception that he received episcopal consecration, and at the same time that inward unction which we learn so much of from the history of his life. he also dedicated his theotimus[ ] to the queen of sovereign charity, and preached continually and with extraordinary sweetness and fervour upon the perfections and greatness of that divine mother. finally, my dear sisters, there was nothing that he recommended so much to his spiritual children as this devotion to the blessed virgin. you, indeed, more than all others, ought to bear witness to this, seeing that he made you daughters of holy mary, under the title of the visitation, marked thereby to distinguish you from so many other congregations consecrated to the honour and service of god under the title of our lady. his devotion to our blessed lady was, indeed, as might have been expected from one so single-minded and sincere as he, eminently practical, from his earliest youth he sought her protection and aid in all difficulties and temptations. when he was pursuing his studies while at college in paris, the evil spirit was permitted by god to insinuate into his mind the terrible idea that he was one of the number of the damned. this delusion took such possession of his soul that he lost his appetite, was unable to sleep, and day by day grew more and more wasted and languid. his tutor and director noticing how his health was affected and how pale, listless, and joyless he had become, often questioned him as to the cause of his dejection and evident suffering, but his tormentor who had filled his mind with this delusion, being what is called a dumb devil, the poor youth could give no explanation. for one whole month he suffered this mental torture, this agony of soul. he had lost all the sweetness of divine love, but not, happily, his fidelity to it. he looked back with bitter tears to the happy time when he was, as it were, inebriated with that sweetness, nor did any ray of hope illumine the darkness of that night of despair. at last, led by a divine inspiration, he entered a church to pray that this agony might pass. on his knees before a statue of the blessed virgin he implored the assistance of the mother of mercy with tears and sighs, and the most fervent devotion. he ended by reciting the _memorare_, that devout prayer attributed to st. augustine or st. bernard, and which was such a favourite with our blessed father and taught by him to all his penitents. i may here mention that it was from his lips that i first learnt that prayer, that i wrote it down in the beginning of my breviary, and have made constant use of it in all my necessities. but, to return to my story. no sooner had he finished this appeal to the mother of mercy than he began to experience the power of her intercession. he seemed to hear the voice of god within him saying: "i am thy salvation: oh! man of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt? thou art mine and i will save thee; have confidence; i am he who has overcome the world." then, in a moment, the devil departed from him; the delusions with which that wicked one had filled his mind vanished; joy and consolation took their place; where darkness had reigned light assumed the empire, and francis felt he could never sufficiently thank god for this deliverance. can you wonder that after such a battle and such a victory won through the intercession of the mother of god he always advised those who were undergoing temptation to have recourse to her powerful aid? she is indeed _terrible_--to our foes--_as an army in battle array, and a tower of strength against the face of our enemies_; and what marvel seeing that it is she who has crushed the serpent's head? [footnote : _the treatise on the love of god_.] his devotion to the holy winding sheet of turin. with regard to our blessed father's explanation of his special devotion to the holy winding sheet, as connected with circumstances preceding his birth, i may here say a few words. he was born, as you know, on the st of august, . his mother was then very young, not quite fifteen, and frail and delicate in health. it happened that at that very time the holy winding sheet, then in the chapel of chambery, was, by command of his highness of savoy, and at the request of the princess anne d'este, wife, by her second marriage, of james of savoy, duke of nemours and prince of geneva, brought to annecy. charles, cardinal of lorraine, and louis, cardinal of guise, were at the time at annecy, where the sacred relic was displayed with great solemnity and exposed to the veneration of the multitudes who flocked to the place from all parts. among these crowds came the father and mother of blessed francis, and we may well believe that god made use of this holy relic to imprint upon both the mother and the unborn child some special influence of grace. there is another winding sheet at besancon (for our lord was buried in two, holy scripture itself suggesting this by the use of the word _linteamina_,[ ] linen cloths), that city being the metropolis of the ecclesiastical province, in which the bishopric of belley is situated. one day when our blessed father was passing by the place the authorities had the relic exposed in his honour, and begged him to preach upon the subject. he did so, with tears of emotion and such a torrent of vehement eloquence, as went straight to the hearts of all who listened to him. in his own diocese he took care to have the feast of the holy winding sheet kept in all the churches. he generally himself preached on that day, and always with much feeling and devotion. he had a most special devotion to the holy winding sheet, as it is to be seen at turin. he had it copied or represented in all sorts of different ways, or, i should rather say, by all sorts of different arts; in embroidery, in oil painting, in copperplate, in coloured engraving, in miniature, in demi-relief, in etching. he had it in his chamber, his chapel, his oratory, his study, his refectory; in a word, everywhere. on one occasion i asked him the reason of this. he answered: "it is the great treasure of the house of savoy, the defence of the country; it is our great relic; more than this, it is the miraculous picture of the sufferings of jesus christ, traced with his own blood. and then, too, i have a special reason for my devotion to this holy relic, seeing that before i was born my mother dedicated me to our lord, while contemplating this sacred standard of salvation. "it is said that he who carries the standard into battle, rather than surrender it to the enemy, should wrap its folds round his body and glory in so dying. ah! what a happiness it would he if we could thus fold round about us the holy winding sheet, buried with jesus christ for love of him, in whom we are buried by baptism." [footnote : luke xxiv. .] upon merit. every good work can, as you know, have four qualities: it can be meritorious, satisfactory, consolatory, or impetratory. in order to have the two first qualities it must be performed when we are in a state of grace; that is to say, through the motive of charity, or, at least, in charity. but the two last it can have, although imperfectly, without charity; for how many sinners there are who feel consolation in doing works which are morally good, and how many who in praying impetrate graces and favours from the mercy of god. between the two first qualities of good works there is this difference, that the first abides with and belongs wholly and entirely to the person who performs the work, and cannot be communicated; that power of communication being reserved solely for the merits of jesus christ our lord, which do not stop short, as it were, and end in him, but can be, and, in fact, are, communicated to us. neither the saints in heaven nor those on earth have power to communicate to us one tittle of their merits; not the former, because in glory they are rewarded far beyond their deserving; not the latter, because they have not yet reached the goal, and whatever sanctity they may possess, they may, through sin, fall away from it, and all have need of the grace and mercy of god to keep them from so falling. the second quality, however, is communicable, because we can share in the necessities of one another, and can make satisfaction one for another; spiritual riches being no less communicable than temporal ones, and the abundance of some being able to relieve the starvation of others. hear what our blessed father says on this subject in his eighteenth conference: "we must never think that by going to holy communion for others, or by praying for them, we lose anything. we need not fear that by offering to god this communion or prayer in satisfaction for the sins of others we shall not make spiritual profit for ourselves. the merit of the communion and of the prayer will remain with us, for we cannot merit grace for one another; it is our lord alone who can do that. we can beg for graces for others, but we can never merit them." upon good will and good desires. good will being of so great importance, you ask me of what use it is, if it does not manifest itself by its works. and st. gregory tells us that where there are no works there can be no love at all, or at least none that is sincere. our blessed father will give the best possible answer to your question. these are his words: "the angel who proclaimed the birth of our infant saviour sang glory to god, announcing that he published joy, peace, and happiness to men of good will. this was done in order that no one might be ignorant that to receive this child all that is needed is to be of good will, even though as yet one may have effected nothing of good, for christ comes to bless all good wills, and, little by little, he will render them fruitful and of good effect, provided we allow him to govern them. "with regard to good desires, it is, indeed, marvellous that they should so often come to nothing, and that such magnificent blossoms should produce so little fruit. "he gives, however, a reason for this, which pleases me very much. "god knows, he says, why he permits so many good desires to require such length of time and such severe effort to bring them to action, nay, more than this, why sometimes they are never actuated at all. "yet if there were no other profit from them than that resulting from the mortification of a soul which loves god, that would be much. "in fact, we must not desire evil things at all; good things we must desire only in moderation; but desire supremely, and in a limitless degree, that one only divine good, god himself." against the making of rash vows. a certain person of my acquaintance[ ] having learnt on good authority that blessed francis had in his early youth made a vow to say his rosary every day, wished to imitate him in this work of piety, and yet did not like to make the vow without first consulting him. he received the answer: "beware of doing so." my friend replying: "why do you refuse to others the advice which you took for yourself in your youth?" blessed francis continued: "the very word _youth_ decides the question, because i made the vow at that time with less reflection, but now that i am older i say to you, do not do it. i do not tell you not to say your rosary; on the contrary, i advise you as earnestly as i can, and even conjure you not to allow a single day to pass without reciting that prayer, which is most pleasing to god, and to the blessed virgin. but do it from a firm and fixed purpose, rather than from a vow, so that if you should happen to omit it either from weariness or forgetfulness, or any other circumstance, you may not be perplexed by scruples, and run the risk of offending god. for it is not enough to vow, we must also pay our vow, and that under pain of sin, which is no small matter. i assure you that this vow has often been a hindrance to me, and many a time i have been on the point of asking to be dispensed, and set free from it, or at least of having it changed into some other work of equal worth, which might interfere less with the discharge of my duties." "but," rejoined this person, "is not what is done by vow more meritorious than what is done only from a firm and settled purpose?" "i suspected that was it," replied blessed francis; "in that case who do you wish should profit by what you do?" "a fine question," cried the other, "my neighbour, do you think? no, certainly, i want to gain it for myself." "then there is nothing more to be said," replied blessed francis. "i see i have been making a mistake, i imagined, of course, that you wished to make your vow to god, for god, and for his sake, and so by your vow to merit or gain something for god. what! are we to talk of our merits and graces as if he needed them, and were not himself absolute merit and infinite goodness and perfection?" our blessed father loved to see this bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. at last to let him fly, he said: 'but what then is merit, but a work pleasing to god, and a work done in his grace, and by his help, and for his love--a work which he rewards with increase of grace and glory?' "certainly," said the other, "that is how i, too, understood it." "well, then," replied he, "if you understand it thus, why do you contend against your understanding and your conscience? are we not meriting for god, when we do a good work in a state of grace and for the love of god? and ought not the love of god which seeks nothing but his interests, that is to say, his glory, to be the chief end and final aim of all our good works, rather than the reward we thereby merit, which is merely an accessory?" "and of what use to god are the merits and good works of men?" continued the other. "for one thing," replied he, "god thereby saves you from taking a false step. you are standing on the brink of a precipice, and you have your eyes shut. let me give you a helping hand." "in very truth, no good works of ours, though done in a state of grace and for the love of god, can increase his interior and essential glory. the reason is that this glory, being god himself and consequently infinite, can neither be increased by our good actions nor diminished by our sins; and it is in this sense that david says that god is god and has no need of our goods.[ ] it is not thus, however, with the exterior glory which is rendered to him by creatures, and for the obtaining of which he drew them forth out of nothingness into existence. this is finite, by reason of its subject, god's creature, and therefore can be increased by our good works done in and for the love of god, or, on the other hand, diminished by our evil actions, by which we dishonour god, and rob him of his glory, though only of glory which is exterior and outside of the divine nature. "now that we do increase the exterior glory of god by our good works, done as i have said, is evident from the testimony of the apostle, when he calls the man who is purified from sin by justifying grace: _a vessel unto honour sanctified and profitable to the lord prepared unto every good work._[ ] "indeed, it is the very fact that a work done in grace increases the exterior glory of god, which makes it meritorious, his goodness being pledged by his promise to glorify those who glorify him, and to give the crown of justice to those who fight the good fight, and who do, or endure, anything for the glory of his name. this is why i said that we must merit for god, that is to say, we should refer our actions to the glory of god, and act out of love for him. so we shall merit eternal life, provided always we be free from mortal sin, since god is not pledged to give the glories of heaven to any but those who shall labour in his grace. "if, on the other hand, we wish to merit for ourselves, that is to say, if we positively intend that the whole aim of our labour be the reward of grace, or glory, which we hope for: and if we do not, in performing our good works seek first and chiefly the glory of god; then we really merit nothing for ourselves, since we do nothing for god. the reason of this is that there is so close a relationship between merit and reward (the two latin names for them, _meritum_ and _merces_, having the same root and meaning), that one cannot exist without the other any more than a mountain without a valley, or paternity without sonship. "you see now that in the theory you have unwittingly adopted you entirely destroy the nature of true merit, and are in danger of being shipwrecked on the same rock as those heretics of our day who hold that good works are unprofitable for salvation. i am convinced, as you may well believe, that you are as far from wishing to run the risk with them as you are from sharing their belief. "remember this, that in order to do a good work in true charity you must not make your own interest your ultimate aim, but god's interest, which is nothing else but his exterior glory. the more, too, that you think of god's interest the more he will think of yours, and the less you trouble yourself about reward, the greater will your reward be in heaven, because pure love, never mercenary, looks only to the good of the beloved one, not to its own. this is the end and aim of the sacred teaching that we must seek first the _kingdom of god_, that is to say, his glory, knowing assuredly that in seeking this all good things will be added unto us. "he who only wishes to merit for himself does nothing for god and merits nothing for himself: but, on the other hand, he who does everything for god and for his honour merits much for himself. "in this game he who loses, wins; and he who thinks only of winning for himself, plays a losing game. his good works are, as it were, hollow, and weigh too lightly in the divine balance. he falls asleep on his pile; of imaginary spiritual wealth, and awakening finds he has nothing in his hands. he has laboured for himself, not for god, and therefore receives his reward from himself and not from god. like a moth, he singes his wings in the flame of a merit which is truly imaginary, no work being really meritorious except that which is done in a state of grace, and with god for its last end." "all this," replied the person, "does not at all satisfy me on the point which i brought forward, namely, as to whether work done by vow is not more meritorious than that which is done without it, seeing that to the action of the particular virtue which is vowed is added that of the virtue of religion which is the vow." "certainly," replied our blessed father, "as regards the question whether it is more meritorious to say the rosary by vow rather than of one's free choice, it is undoubtedly, as you say, adding one act of virtue to another to do so in discharge of one's vow, for is not prayer the highest of all religious actions? again, if i pray with devotion and fervour, am i not adding to prayer another religious action, which is devotion? if i offer to god this prayer, as incense, or a spiritual sacrifice, or as an oblation, are not sacrifice and oblation two religious actions? moreover, if by this prayer i desire to praise god, is not divine praise a religious act? if in praying i adore god, is not adoration one also? "and if i pray thus with devotion, adoration, sacrifice, oblation, and praise, have we not here five acts of the virtue of religion added by me to the sixth, which is prayer?" "but," rejoined the other, "the vow is more than all that." "if," replied blessed francis, "you say that the act of making a vow is in itself more than all these six together, you must really bring me some proof of its being so." "i mean," said the other, "than each of these acts taken separately," "that," returned our blessed father, "is not the opinion of the angelical doctor,[ ] who, when enumerating the eleven acts of religion, places the making a vow only in the eighth rank, with seven preceding it, namely, prayer, devotion, adoration, sacrifice, oblation, the paying of tithes, and first-fruits; and three after it: the praise of god, the taking of lawful oaths, and the adjuring of creatures in god. "it is not that the act of making a vow is not an excellent thing; but we have no right to set it above other virtues which surpass it in excellence, and other good works of greater worth. we must leave everything in its place, going neither against the order of reason nor against that of divine charity. a man who boasts too much of his noble birth provokes scrutiny into the genuineness of his claim and risks its being disallowed." "all the same," persisted this person, "i maintain that a good work done by vow is more meritorious than one done without it, charity, of course, being taken for granted." "it is not enough," replied francis, "to take charity for granted. we must also suppose it to be greater in the man who does the action with a vow than in the one who does it without; for if he who says some particular prayer, because bound by vow, has less charity than he who says the same without being so bound, he, doubtless, has, and you will not deny it, less merit than the other, because merit is not in proportion to the vow made, but to the charity which accompanies it, and without which it has neither life nor value." "and supposing equal charity, vow, or no vow," resumed the person, "will not the action done by vow have greater merit than the other?" "it will only have the same eternal glory for its reward," replied our blessed father, "in so far as it has the same amount of charity, and thus each will receive the same reward of eternal life. "but as regards accidental glory, supposing that there were a special halo for the vow which would add a fourth to the three of which schoolmen treat, or, if you wish, that there should be as many special and accidental halos of glory as there are kinds of virtue, they will be unequal in accidental glory. "but then we should have to prove that this multiplicity of halos, or accidental glories, exists, in addition to the three of which the schoolmen speak. this i would ask you now to do, though i am doubtful as to the result." "of what then does it avail you," said the other, "to have made that vow about which i have been consulting you?" "it renders me," replied our blessed father, "more careful, diligent, and attentive in keeping my word to god, in binding myself closer to him, in strengthening me to keep my promise (for i do not deny that there is something more stable in the vow than in mere purpose and resolution), in keeping myself from the sin i might incur, if i should fail in what i have vowed, in stimulating me to do better, and to make use of this means to further my progress in the love of god," "you do not then pretend to merit more on account of it?" said the other. "i leave all that to god," replied francis, "he knows the measure of grace which he gives, or wishes to give me. i desire no more, and only as much as it may please him to bestow on me for his glory. love is not eager to serve its own interests, it leaves the care of them to its beloved, who will know how to reward those who love him with a pure and disinterested love." i close this subject with two extracts from the writings of our blessed father. in the first he says: "i do not like to hear people say, we must do _this_, or _that_, because there is more merit in it. there is more merit in saying, 'we must do all for the glory of god.' if we could serve god without merit--which cannot be done--we ought to wish to do so. it is to be feared that by always trying to discover what is most meritorious we may miss our way, like hounds, which when the scent is crossed, easily lose it altogether." [footnote : undoubtedly m. camus himself. note.--it is considered by critics that m. camus puts much of his own into the month of st. francis in this section.--[ed.]] [footnote : psal. xv. .] [footnote : tim. ii. .] [footnote : s. thom. a, ae, quaest, xxiii. art. vii.] upon the pro-passions of our lord. i have been asked whether our lord jesus christ had passions. i cannot do better than answer in the exact words of our blessed father, taken from his theotimus. he says: "jesus christ feared, desired, grieved, and rejoiced. he even wept, grew pale, trembled, and sweated blood, although in him these effects were not caused by passions like to ours. therefore the great st. jerome, and, following his example, the schools of theology, out of reverence for the divine person in whom they existed, do not dare to give the name of passions to them, but call them reverently pro-passions, to show that in our lord these sensible emotions, though not passions, took the place of passions. moreover, he suffered nothing whatever on account of them, excepting what seemed good to him, governing and controlling them at his will. this, we who are sinners do not do, for we suffer and groan under these disorderly emotions, which, against our will, and to the great prejudice of our spiritual peace and welfare, disturb our souls."[ ] [footnote : book i. chap. .] his victory over the passions of love and anger. blessed francis candidly owned that the two passions which it cost him the most to conquer were "love of creatures and anger." the former overcame by skill, the latter by violence, or as he himself was wont to say, "by taking hold of his heart with both hands." the strategy by which he conquered love of creatures was this. he gave his affections an altogether new object to feed upon and to live for, an object absolutely pure and holy, the creator. the soul, we know, cannot live without love, therefore all depends on providing it with an object worthy of its love. our will is like our love. "we become earthly," says st. augustine, "if we love the earth, but heavenly if we love heaven. nay more, if we love god, we actually, by participation, become godlike. osee, speaking of idolaters, says: _they became abominable as those things were which they loved_".[ ] all our saint's writings breathe love, but a love so holy, pure, and beautiful as to justify itself in every expression of it:--_pure words ... justified in themselves ... sweeter than honey and the honeycomb._ as regards the passion of anger, which was very strong in him, he fought against it, face to face, with such persevering force and success that meekness and gentleness are considered his chief characteristics. [footnote : osee ix. .] upon our passions and emotions. one day, at a time when i was writing a treatise on the subject of the human passions--which treatise was afterwards published among my miscellaneous works--i went to him to be enlightened upon several points. after having answered my questions, and satisfied my mind, he asked me: "and what will you say about the affections?" i must confess that this question surprised me, for though i am quite aware of the distinction between the reasonable and the sensitive appetite, i had no idea that there was such a difference between the passions and the affections, as he told me existed. i imagined that when the passions were governed by reason, they were called affections, but he explained to me that this was not so at all. he said that our sensitive appetite was divided into two parts: the concupiscent and the irascible.... the reasonable appetite is also divided, like the sensitive, into the concupiscent and the irascible, but it makes use of the mind as its instrument. the sensitive concupiscent appetite is again subdivided into six passions: , love; , hate; , desire; , aversion; , joy; , sadness. the irascible comprises five passions: , anger; , hope; , despair; , fear; , courage. the reasonable appetite, which is the will, has just as many affections, and they bear the same names. there is, however, this difference between the passions and the affections. we possess the passions in common with the irrational brute creation, which, as we see, is moved by love, hate, desire, aversion, joy, sadness, anger, hope, despair, fear, and fearlessness, but without the faculty of reason to guide and regulate the impulse of the senses. the carnal man, that is to say, he who allows himself to be carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, is, says the psalmist: _compared to senseless beasts and is become like to them_.[ ] he, however who makes use of his reason, directs his affections uprightly and well, employing them in the service of the reasonable appetite, only in as far as they are guided by the light and teaching of natural reason. as this, however, is faulty and liable to deceptions and illusions, mistakes are often made which are called by philosophers disorders of mind. but when the regenerate, that is to say, the christian who possesses both grace and charity, makes use of the passions of his sensitive appetite, as well as of the affections of his reason, for the glory of god, and for the love of him alone, this does not happen. then he loves what he ought to love, he hates what he ought to hate, he desires what god wills that he should desire, he flies from what displeases god, he is saddened by offences done against god, he rejoices and takes delight in the things which are pleasing to god. then his zeal fills him with anger and indignation against all that detracts from the honour due to god; he hopes in god and not in the creature, he fears nothing save to offend god, he is fearless in god's service. thus, the psalmist, a man after god's own heart, was able to say that his flesh, that is, the passions seated in his senses, and his heart, namely, the affections rooted in his mind, _rejoiced in the living god_.[ ] the winds, which, as some of the ancients held, come forth from the caverns and hollows of the earth, produce two very different effects upon the sea. without winds we cannot sail, and yet through them tempests and shipwrecks happen. the passions and affections shut up in the two caverns of the concupiscent and the irascible appetite are so many inward impulses which urge us on to evil if they are rebellious, disorderly, and irregular, but if directed by reason and charity, lead us into the haven of rest, the port of life eternal. this is what our blessed father taught me, and if you desire any more information on the subject you will find it in his _treatise on the love of god_.[ ] his words did indeed open my eyes! they were of the greatest assistance to me in writing the book i alluded to. [footnote : psal. xlviii. .] [footnote : psal. lxxxiii. .] [footnote : book . chap. .] how he came to write his philothea. there is something remarkable about the origin of this book, _an introduction to the devout life_, addressed by him to philothea, that is, to every soul which desires to love and serve god, and especially to persons living in the world. one peculiarity about it is that it was composed two years before its author had thought of writing any book at all. he says on this subject in his preface: "it was by no choice or desire of mine that this _introduction_ saw the light. some time ago, a soul[ ] richly endowed with honourable and virtuous qualities, having received from god the grace to aspire to the devout life, desired my special assistance in the matter. i, on my part, having had much to do with her in spiritual concerns, and having for a long time past observed in her a great aptitude for such a life, took great pains in instructing her. i not only led her through all the exercises suitable to her condition and aspirations, but i also gave her some written notes, to which she might refer when necessary. later on she showed these to a learned and devout religious man, who, considering that they might be of use to many, strongly urged me to publish them, which he easily persuaded me to do, because his friendship had great power over me, and because i valued his judgment very highly." i am able to give some further details. this soul richly endowed with honourable and virtuous qualities, as our blessed father described her to be, was a lady from normandy of good family, who had married a gentleman of note in savoy. his estates were partly in the diocese of geneva, where he mostly resided, and he was nearly related to our blessed father. the lady, who was of a most pious disposition, decided that she could not possibly choose a better guide in the devout life than our saint, her bishop, and her relative by marriage. blessed francis instructed her carefully both by word of mouth and also by written lessons, which she not only kept and treasured up, but sorted and arranged according to their various subjects, so as to be able to find in a moment the counsel she wanted. for two years she went on steadily collecting and amassing these precious documents as one by one he wrote them for her. at the end of that time, owing to the disturbed state of the country, a great change came over her life. her husband served his prince, the duke of savoy, in the war in piedmont, and was obliged to leave the management of all his affairs and of his property to his wife, who was as skilful in such matters as she was devout. the business of a great lawsuit in which her husband was concerned obliged her to take up her residence for more than six months at chambery, where the senate or parliament was held. during her stay in this place she took for her director père jean ferrier, the rector of the jesuit college, and confessor to our blessed father. in her difficulties she applied to this father for advice, and he willingly gave it. sometimes it agreed with what blessed francis had said to her on similar occasions, sometimes it differed. when it differed, in order to prove that she was not speaking at random, and that she had something stronger than her own memory to rely upon, she would show him some of the written memoranda of which i have spoken. the good priest, who was deeply versed in all spiritual matters, found so much in them that was profitable and delightful, that on one occasion he asked her if she had many more of the same sort. "so many, father," she replied, "that if they were arranged in proper order they would make a good-sized volume." the father at once expressed his wish to see them all, and after having slowly and thoughtfully perused them, begged as a further favour that he might have several copies made of them. this being readily granted, he distributed the said copies among the fathers of the college, who fully appreciated the gift, and treasured it most carefully. when this lady returned to geneva, the father rector wrote a letter by her to our blessed father, praising her many virtues and her business talents, and begging him to continue to guide and counsel a soul so rich in all christian graces and heavenly dispositions. he then went on to extol in the highest terms the written teaching with which he (francis) had assisted her. our blessed father read père ferrier's first letter, he has told me, without giving a thought to the matter of his own writings. but when this was followed by letter upon letter urging and imploring him not to keep such a treasure buried, but to allow other souls to be enlightened and guided in the way of salvation by his teaching, our blessed father was puzzled. he wrote to père ferrier saying that his present charge was so onerous, and engrossing, that he had no leisure for writing, and moreover that he had no talent for it, and could not imagine why people wanted him to attempt to do so. père ferrier replied, saying that if his lordship did not publish the excellent instructions which he had given in writing to this lady he would be keeping back truth unlawfully, depriving souls of great advantages, and god of great glory. our blessed father, much surprised, showed the letter to the lady, begging her to explain it. she replied that père ferrier had made the same request to her, entreating her to have the memoranda, given her for her private direction, published. "what memoranda?" said blessed francis. "oh! father," replied the lady, "do you not remember all those little written notes on various subjects which you gave me to help my memory?" "and pray what could be done with those notes?" he enquired. "possibly you might make a sort of almanack out of them, a sentence for every day in the year." "an almanack!" cried the lady. "why, father, do you know that there are enough of them to fill a big book! little by little the pile has grown larger than you would think! many feathers make a pound, and many strokes of the pen make a book. you had better see the papers, and judge for yourself. the father rector has had them copied, and they make a thick volume." "what!" cried blessed francis, "has the good father really had the patience to read through all these poor little compositions, put together for the use of an unenlightened woman! you have done us both a great honour, indeed, by giving the learned doctor such a trifle to amuse himself with, and by showing him these precious productions of mine!" "yet he values them so much," replied the lady, "that he persists in assuring me that he has never come across any writings more useful, or more edifying; and he goes on to say that this is the general feeling of all the fathers of his house, who are all eager to possess copies. if you refuse to take the matter in hand, they will themselves see that this light is not left much longer under a bushel." "really," said our blessed father, "it is amazing that people should want me to believe that i have written a book without meaning it. however, let us examine these precious pearls of which so much is thought." the lady then brought to him all the bundles of notes which she had shown to père ferrier. our blessed father was astonished to see how many there were, and wondered at the care which the lady had taken to collect and preserve them. he asked to be allowed to look them through again, and begged père ferrier not to attempt to send to the press disconnected and detached fragments which he had never for a moment thought of publishing. he added, however, that if on examination he thought that what had been written for the consolation of one soul might prove useful to others, he would not fail to put them into good order, and to add what was necessary to make them acceptable to those who might take the trouble to read them. this he did, and the result was the _introduction_,[ ] which we are therefore justified in saying was composed two years before its author thought of writing it! the simplicity, beauty, and usefulness of this book is well known. it showed the possibility of living a holy life in any station, amid the tumult of worldly cares, the seductions of prosperity, or the temptations of poverty. it brought new light to devout souls, and encouragement to all, whether high or low, who were desirous of finding and following jesus. but, alas! there is a reverse side to the picture. i mean the misrepresentations and calumnies which our blessed father had to endure from those who pretended that the principles on which the book was based were absurd, and that it inculcated a degree of devotion quite impracticable in ordinary life. i can hardly speak calmly about this matter, and so content myself with remarking that in spite of bitter opposition the book has already, in my own time, passed through thirty editions in french, and has been translated not only into latin, but into italian, spanish, german, english, in short, into most european languages. in order that you may not think, however, that i have exaggerated in what i have said of the opposition which it excited, i will close the subject with our blessed father's own calm and gentle words of lament. in his preface to the _treatise on the love of god_, he says: "three or four years afterwards i published the _introduction to a devout life_ upon the occasion, and in the manner which i have put down in the preface thereof: regarding which i have nothing to say to you, dear reader, save only that, though this little book has in general had a gracious and kind acceptance, yes, even amongst the gravest prelates and doctors of the church, yet it has not escaped the rude censure of some who have not merely blamed me but bitterly and publicly attacked me, because i tell philothea that dancing is an action indifferent in itself, and that for recreation's sake one may make puns and jokes. knowing the quality of these censors, i praise their intention, which i think was good. i should have desired them, however, to please to consider that the first proposition is drawn from the common and true doctrine of the most holy and learned divines; that i was writing for such as live in the world, and at court; that withal i carefully point out the extreme dangers which are found in dancing; and that as to the second proposition, it is not mine but st. louis', that admirable king, a doctor worthy to be followed in the art of rightly conducting courtiers to a devout life. for, i believe, if they had weighed this, their charity and discretion would never have permitted their zeal, how vigorous, and austere soever, to arm their indignation against me." [footnote : madame de charmoisy, née louise dutchatel. [ed.]] [footnote : the saint added advice given by him to his mother and others. [ed.]] upon the example of the saints. god said to moses: _look, and make it_ (the tabernacle) _according to the pattern that was shewn thee in the mount_,[ ] and he did so. the ancient philosopher was right when he described the art of imitating as the mistress of all others, because it is by making copies that we learn how to draw originals, "the way of precept is long," said the stoics, "but example makes it short and efficacious." seneca, treating of the best method of studying philosophy, says that it is to nourish and clothe ourselves with the maxims of eminently philosophical minds. blessed francis always inculcated this practice of imitating others in virtue. hence his choice of spiritual books to be read and followed. with respect to the lives of the saints, he advised the reading by preference of those of holy men and women whose vocation has either been identical with or very much like our own, in order that we may put before ourselves models we can copy more closely. on one occasion, however, when i was telling him how i had taken him for my pattern, and how closely i watched his conduct and ways, trying thereon to model my own, and that he must be careful not to do anything less perfect, for if he did, i should certainly imitate it as a most exalted virtue, he said: "it is unfortunate that friendship, like love, should have its eyes bandaged and hinder us from distinguishing between the defects and the good qualities of the person to whom we are attached. what a pity it is that you should force me to live among you as if i were in an enemy's country, and that i have to be as suspicious of your eyes and ears as if you were spies! "still i am glad that you have spoken to me as you have done, for a man warned is a man armed, and i seem to hear a voice saying: 'child of earth, be on thy guard, and always walk circumspectly, since god and men are watching thee!' our enemies are constantly on the alert to find fault and injure us by talking against us; our friends ought to observe us just as narrowly but for a very different reason, in order, namely, that they may be able to warn us of our failings, and kindly to help us to get rid of them. "_the just man_, says the psalmist, _shall correct me in mercy, and shall reprove me, but let not the oil of the sinner fatten my head_. by the oil of the sinner is meant flattery. do not be offended with me if i assure you that you are still more cruel to me, for you not only refuse to give me a helping hand to aid me in getting rid of my faults, which you might do by wholesome and charitable warnings, but you seem by your unfair copying of my faults to wish, to make me an accomplice in your own wrong doings! "as for me, the affection god has given me for you is very different. my jealousy for god's honour makes me long so ardently to see you walk in his ways that your slightest failing is intolerable to me, and so far am i from wishing to imitate your faults, that, if i seem to overlook them for a time, i am, believe me, doing violence to myself, by waiting with patience for a fitting opportunity to warn you of them." [footnote : exod. xxv. .] upon the love of god's word. blessed francis considered--as indeed i have already told you in another place--that to love to listen to god, speaking to us, either by the living voice of his priests, or in pious books, which are often the voice of his saints, was one of the strongest marks of predestination. but he also insisted on the folly and uselessness of listening to, or reading, without putting in practice the lessons so conveyed to us. this, he said, was like beholding our faces in a glass, then going our way, and forgetting what we are like. it is to learn the will of our master and not to take pains to fulfil his commands. in his philothea he says: "be devoted to the word of god, whether it comes to you in familiar conversation with your spiritual friends, or in listening to sermons. always hear it with attention and reverence, profit by it as much as possible, and never permit it to fall to the ground. receive it into your heart as a precious balm, following the example of the blessed virgin, who kept carefully in her heart every word that was spoken in praise of her divine child. do not forget that our lord gathers up the words which we speak to him in our prayers, in proportion to the diligence with which we gather up those he addresses to us by the mouth of his preachers." as regards spiritual reading, he recommended it most strongly as being food for the soul, which we could always keep at hand, at all times and in all places. he said that we might be where we could not always hear sermons, or easily have recourse to a spiritual director and guide, and that our memory might not always serve us to recall what we had been taught, either by preachers, or by those who had instructed us specially and individually in the way of salvation. he therefore desired those who aspired to lead a devout life to provide themselves with pious books which would kindle in their hearts the flame of divine love, and not to let a single day pass without using them. he wished them to be read with great respect and devotion, saying that we should regard them as missives "sent to us by the saints from heaven, to show us the way thither, and to give us courage to persevere in it." his love of retirement. it is well known that if our blessed father had lived to return from lyons, his intention was to retire from the world and its activities in which he had so long taken a part, and to lead henceforth a purely contemplative life. with this intention he had, some years before his death, caused a little hermitage to be built in a most suitable and sequestered spot on the shores of the beautiful lake of annecy. this, however, he had had done quite quietly without giving any idea of the real purpose for which it was destined. on this same shore there is a benedictine monastery called taloire, easily accessible, as it is built on the slope of the hill. into it he had introduced some salutary reforms, and he was on terms of the most affectionate intimacy with the holy men who lived a hidden life in its quiet seclusion. at the top of a neighbouring spur of this same mountain, on a gentle and smooth rising ground, surrounded by rich vineyards and delightful shrubs of various kinds, watered by clear streams, stood an old chapel, dedicated to god, under the name of st. germain, a saint who had been one of the first monks in the monastery and who is greatly honoured in that part of the country. blessed francis secretly gave the necessary funds for repairing and decorating this chapel, and for building round it five or six cells pleasantly enclosed. this hermitage, the superior said, would be most useful to his monks, enabling them to make their spiritual retreats in quiet solitude. indeed, from time to time he sent them there for this purpose, in accordance with the rule of st. benedict, which so greatly recommends solitude, a rule practised to the letter in the hermitages of montserrat in spain. here, then, in this quiet and lonely retreat, it was the intention of blessed francis to spend the last years of his life, and when he spoke upon the subject in private to the good prior, he expressed himself in these words: "when i get to our hermitage i will serve god with my breviary, my rosary, and my pen. then i shall have plenty of happy and holy leisure, which i can spend in putting on paper, for the glory of god and the instruction of souls, thoughts which have been surging through my mind for the last thirty years and which have been useful to me in my sermons, in my instructions, and in my own private meditations. my memory is crowded with these, but i hope, besides, that god will inspire me with others, and that ideas will fall upon me from heaven thick and fast as the snowflakes which in winter whiten all our mountains. oh! who will give me the wings of a dove, that i may fly to this holy resting place, and draw breath for a little while beneath the shadow of the cross? _i expect until my change come!_"[ ] [footnote : job xiv. .] how he sanctified his recreations. blessed francis, gentle and indulgent to others as regards recreation, was severe towards himself in this matter. he never had a garden in either of the two houses which he occupied during the time of his episcopate, and only took walks when the presence of guests made them necessary, or when his physician prescribed them for his health, for he obeyed him faithfully. but he acted otherwise with his friends and neighbours. he approved of agreeable conversation after meals, never showing weariness, or making them feel ill at ease. when i went to visit him, he took pains to amuse me after the fatigue of preaching, either by a row on the beautiful lake of annecy, or by delightful walks in the fine gardens on its banks. he did not refuse similar recreations which i offered him when he came to see me, but he never asked for or sought them for himself. although he found no fault with those who talked enthusiastically of architecture, pictures, music, gardening, botany, and the like, and who devoted themselves to these studies or amusements, he desired that they should use them as mystical ladders by means of which the soul may rise to god, and by his own example he showed how this might be done. if any one pointed out to him rich orchards filled with well-grown fruit trees: "we," he would say, "are the agriculture and husbandry of god." if buildings of just proportion and symmetry: "we," he would say, "are the edifice of god." if some magnificent and beautifully decorated church: "we are the living temples of the living god. why are not our souls as richly adorned with virtues?" if flowers: "ah! when will our flowers give fruits, and, indeed, be themselves fruits of honour and integrity?" when there was any talk of budding and grafting, he would say: "when shall we be rightly grafted? when shall we yield fruits both plentiful and well flavoured to the heavenly husbandman, who cultivates us with so much care and toil?" when rare and exquisite pictures were shown to him: "there is nothing," he would say, "so beautiful as the soul which is made to the image and likeness of god." when he was taken into a garden, he would exclaim: "ah! when will the garden of our soul be planted with flowers and plants, well cultivated, all in perfect order, sealed and shut away from all that can displease the heavenly gardener, who appeared under that form to magdalen!" at the sight of fountains: "when will fountains of living water spring up in our hearts to life eternal? how long shall we continue to dig for ourselves miserable cisterns, turning our backs upon the pure source of the water of life? ah! when shall we draw freely from the saviour's fountains! when shall we bless god for the rivers of israel!" and so on with mountains, lakes, and rivers. he saw god in all things and all things in god. what he drew from some lines of poetry. one day we went together into the cell of a certain carthusian monk, a man whose rare beauty of mind, and extraordinary piety, drew many to visit him, and in later days have taken his candlestick from under its bushel and set it up on high as one of the lights of the french church. he had written in capital letters round the walls of his cell these two beautiful lines of an old latin poet: _tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atra lumen, et in solis tu mihi turba locis._[ ] thou art my rest in grief and care, my light in blackest gloom; in solitude which thou dost share, for crowds there is no room. our blessed father read and re-read these lines several times, thinking them so beautiful that he wished to engrave them on his memory, believing that they had been written by some christian poet, perhaps prudentius. finding, however, that they were composedly a pagan, and on a profane subject, he said it was indeed a pity that so brilliant a burst of light should only have flashed out from the gross darkness of heathenism. "however," he continued, "this good father has made the vessels of the egyptians into a tabernacle, lining it with the steel mirrors which had lent themselves to feminine vanity. thus it is that to the pure all things are pure. this, indeed, is quite a different thing from the way of acting of those who make light of the holy words of scripture, using them carelessly and even jestingly in idle conversation, a practice intolerable among christians who profess to reverence these oracles of salvation." we then began to analyse these beautiful lines, taking them in the sense in which the holy monk had taken them when he wrote them on his walls, namely, as addressed to god. our blessed father said that god alone was the repose of those who had quitted the world and its cares to listen to his voice speaking to their hearts in solitude, and that without this attentive hearkening, solitude would be a long martyrdom, and a source of anxiety in place of a centre of tranquillity. at the same time he said that those who were burdened with martha's busy anxieties would not fail to enjoy in the very midst of their hearts the deep peace of mary's better part, provided they carried all their cares to god. we saw afterwards another inscription containing these words of the psalmist: _this is my rest for ever and ever: here will i dwell for i have chosen it._[ ] "it is in god," said our blessed father, "rather than in a cell, that we should choose our abode, never to change it. oh! happy and blessed are they who dwell in that house, which is not only the house of the lord, but the lord himself. happy, indeed, for they shall praise him for ever and ever." then we came upon another inscription, bearing these words: _one thing i have asked of the lord, this will i seek after; that i may see the delight of the lord and visit his temple._[ ] "this true dwelling of the lord," said he, "is his holy will; which is signified by the word delight; i.e., pleasure. since in god there is no pleasure that is not good, what difference can there be between the _good pleasure_ and the _will_ of god? the will of god never tends but towards goodness." we then went back to the second part of the latin distich: _tu nocte vel atra, lumen: my light in blackest gloom._ "yes, truly," he said, "jesus born in bethlehem brought a glorious day-dawn into the midst of night; and by his incarnation did he not come to enlighten those who were sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death? he is, indeed, our light and our salvation; when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we need fear nothing if he is at our side. he is the light of the world; he dwells in light inaccessible, light that no darkness can overtake. he alone can lighten our darkness." upon the last clause of the beautiful verse: _et in solis tu mihi turba locis. in solitude which thou dost share, for crowds there is no room._ he said: "yes, communion with god in solitude is worth a thousandfold the pleasantest converse with the gay crowds who throng the doors of the wealthy; for the rich man can only maintain his splendour by dint of much toil, and is worn out by his cares and by the importunity of others. miserable, indeed, are riches acquired at so great cost, retained with so much trouble, and yet lost with such painful regret." this was one of his favourite sayings: "we must find our pleasure in ourselves when we are alone, and in our neighbour as in ourselves when we are in his company. yet, wherever we may be, we must primarily find our pleasure in god alone, who is the maker of both solitude and society. he who does otherwise will find all places wearisome and unsatisfying; for solitude without god is death, and the society of men without god is more harmful than desirable. wherever we may be, if god is there, all is well: where he is not, nothing is well: without him we can do nothing that has any worth." [footnote : tibul iv., eleg xiii. ii. .] [footnote : psal. cxxxi. .] [footnote : psal. xxvi. .] upon being content with our position in life. perhaps there is nothing of which men are more apt to complain than of their own condition in life. this temptation to discontent and unhappiness is a favourite device of the enemy of souls. the holy bishop used to say: "away with such thoughts! do not sow wishes in other people's gardens; do not desire to be what you are not, but rather try most earnestly to be the best of what you are. try with all your might to perfect yourself in the state in which god has placed you, and bear manfully whatever crosses, heavy or light, may be laid upon your shoulders. believe me, this is the fundamental principle of the spiritual life; and yet, of all principles it is the least well understood. every one follows the bent of his own taste and desires; very few find their sole happiness in doing their duty according to the pleasure of our lord. what is the use of building castles in spain, when we have to live in france! "this, as you remember, is old teaching of mine, and by this time you ought to have mastered it thoroughly." upon self-sufficiency and contentedness. there is one kind of self-sufficiency which is blameworthy and another which is laudable. the former is a form of pride and vanity, and those whom it dominates are termed conceited. holy scripture says of them that they trust in themselves. this vanity is so absurd that it seems more deserving of contempt and ridicule than of grave blame. but to turn to good and rational contentedness. of it the ancient stoic said that what is sufficient is always at our command, and that what we labour for is superfluous; and again, that if we live according to the laws of nature we shall never be poor, but if we want to live according to our fancies we shall never be rich. to be contented with what really suffices, and to persuade ourselves that what is more than this is either evil or leading to evil, is the true means of leading a tranquil, and therefore a happy, life. this is not only my own opinion, but it is also that of our blessed father, who congratulates a pious soul on being contented with the sufficiency she had. "god be praised for your contentment with the sufficiency which he has given you. persevere in thanking him for it. it is, indeed, the beatitude of this poor earthly life to be contented with what is sufficient, because those who are not contented when they have enough will never be contented, how much soever they may acquire. in the words of your book--since you call it your book--nothing will ever content those who are not contented when they have enough." the reverence of blessed francis for the sick. if the poor, by reason of their poverty, are members of jesus christ, the sick are also such by reason of their sickness. our saviour himself has told us so: _i was sick, and you visited me_.[ ] for if the great apostle st. paul said that with the weak he was weak,[ ] how much more the divine exemplar, whom he but copied? our blessed father expressed as follows his feelings of respect and honour towards a sick person to whom he was writing. "while i think of you sick and suffering in your bed, i regard you with special reverence, and as worthy of being singularly honoured as a creature visited by god, clothed in his apparel, his favoured spouse. when our lord was on the cross he was proclaimed king even by his enemies, and souls who are bearing the cross (of suffering) are declared to be queens. do you know why the angels envy us? assuredly, because we can suffer for our lord, whilst they have never suffered anything for his sake. st. paul, who had been raised to heaven and had tasted the joys of paradise, considered himself happy only because of his infirmities, and of his bearing the cross of our lord." farther on he entreats her, as a person signed with the cross, and a sharer in the sufferings of jesus christ, to commend to god, though in an agony of pain, an affair of much importance which concerned the glory of god. he held that in a condition such as hers was, prayer would be more readily heard, just as our saviour, praying fervently on the cross, was heard for his reverence. the psalmist was of the same opinion, saying that god heard him willingly when he cried to him in the midst of his tribulation, and that it was in his afflictions that god was nearest to him. our blessed father believed that prayers offered by those who are in suffering, though they be short, are more efficacious than any others. he says: "i entreat you to be so kind as to recommend to god a good work which i greatly desire to see accomplished, and especially to pray about it when you are suffering most acutely: for then it is that your prayers, however short, if they are heartfelt, will be infinitely well received. ask god at that time also for the virtues which you need the most." [footnote : matt. xxv. .] [footnote : cor. xi. .] upon the care of the sick. one day we went together to visit a very aged lady in her last illness. her piety, which was of no ordinary kind, made her look forward calmly to the approach of death, for which she had prepared by the reception of the sacraments of penance and of the blessed eucharist. she only awaited the visit of her doctor before asking for that of extreme unction. all her worldly affairs were in perfect order, and but one thing troubled her, namely, that her children who had all assembled round her, on hearing of her danger, were too indefatigable in their attendance upon her, and this, as she thought, to the detriment of their own health. our blessed father wishing to comfort her, said tenderly: "do you know that i, on the contrary, when i am ill, am never so happy as when i see my relatives and servants all busy about me, tiring themselves out on my behalf. you are astonished, and ask me why i feel like this. well, it is because i know that god will repay them generously for all these services. for if a cup of cold water given to a poor man in the love and for the love of god receives such a reward as eternal life; if our least labours undertaken for the love of god work in us the weight of a supreme glory, why should we pity those whom we see thus occupied, since we are not ill-disposed towards them, nor envious of their advantages? _for unto you it is given_, said st. paul to the christians of his day, _not only to believe in christ, but also to suffer for him_. "the reapers and vintagers are never happier than when they are heavily laden, because that proves the harvest, or the vintage, to have been plentiful. in truth, if those who wait on us, whether in health or in sickness, are only considering us, and not god, and are only seeking to please us, they make so bad a use of their toil that it is right they should suffer for it. he who serves the prophet for the love of the prophet shall receive the reward of the prophet. but, if they serve us for the love of god they are more to be envied than pitied; for he who serves the prophet in consideration of him who sends him shall receive the reward of god, a reward which passes all imagination, which is beyond price, and which no words can express." in his visiting of the sick when on their death-bed our blessed father was truly an angel of peace and consolation. he treated the sick person with the utmost sweetness and gentleness, speaking from time to time a few words suited to his condition and frame of mind, sometimes uttering very short ejaculatory prayers, or aspirations for him, sometimes leading the sufferer to utter them himself, either audibly, or, if speech was painful to him, secretly in his heart; and then allowing him to struggle undisturbed with the mortal pains which were assailing him. he could not bear to see the dying tormented with long exhortations. that was not the time, he would say, for preaching, or even for long prayers; all that was needed was to keep the soul sustained in the atmosphere of the divine will, which was to be its eternal element in heaven, to keep it up, i say, by short beatings of the wings, like birds, who in this way save themselves from falling to the earth. upon speaking well of the dead. when any of his friends or relatives died he never tired of speaking well of them nor of recommending their souls to the prayers of others. he used to say: "we do not remember our dead, our dear ones who have left us, nearly enough; and the proof that we do not remember them enough is that we speak of them too seldom. we turn away conversation from that subject as though it were a painful one; we let the dead bury their dead, their memory die out in us with the sound of the funeral knell, seeming to forget that a friendship which can end even with death can never have been a true one. holy scripture itself tells us that true charity, that is, divine and supernatural love, is stronger than death! it seems to me that as a burning coal not only remains alive but burns more intensely when buried under ashes, so sincere and pure love ought to be made stronger by death, and to impel us to more fervent prayers for our deceased friends and relatives than to supplications for those who are yet living. "for thus we look upon the dead more absolutely as in god, since, having died in him, as we piously believe, they rest upon the bosom of his mercy. then, praise can no longer be suspected of flattery, and, as it is a kind of impiety to tear to pieces the reputation of the dead, like wild beasts digging up a corpse to devour it; so it is a mark of piety to rehearse and extol the good qualities of the departed, since our doing so incites us to imitate them: nothing affecting us so deeply and so strongly as the example of those with whom we come in close and frequent contact." in order to encourage people to pray for the dead he used to represent to them that in this one single work of mercy all the other thirteen are included, explaining his statement in the following manner. "are we not," he would say, "in some sort visiting the sick when we obtain by our prayers relief or refreshment for the poor souls in purgatory? "are we not giving drink to the thirsty and feeding the hungry when we bestow the cool, refreshing dew of our prayers upon those who, plunged in the midst of its burning flames, are all athirst and hungering for the vision of god? when we help on their deliverance by the means which faith suggests, are we not most truly ransoming prisoners? are we not clothing the naked when we procure for souls a garment of light, the light of glory? "is it not an act of the most princely hospitality to obtain for them an entrance into the heavenly jerusalem, and to make them fellow-citizens with the saints and servants of god in the eternal zion? "then, as regards the spiritual works of mercy. is it not the most splendid thing imaginable to counsel the doubtful, to convert the sinner, to forgive injuries, to bear wrongs patiently? and yet, what is the greatest consolation we can give to the afflicted in this life compared to the solace our prayers bring to the poor souls who are in such grievous suffering?" upon death. strictly speaking, the sojourn which we make on earth, in the days of our flesh and which we call life, is rather death than life, since "every moment leads us from the cradle to the grave." this made an ancient philosopher say that we are dying every day of our lives, that every day some portion of our being falls away, and that what we call life is truly death.[ ] hence the beautiful saying of the wise woman of thecua: _we all die, and like waters that return no more, we fall down into the earth._[ ] nature has imprinted in the hearts of all men a horror of death. our saviour, even, taking upon himself our flesh and making himself like to his brethren, sin only excepted, would not be exempted from this infirmity, although he knew that the passage into another world would set him free from all miseries and transport him into a glory which he already possessed as regarded his soul. seneca says that death ought not to be considered an evil when it has been preceded by a good life. what makes death so formidable is that which follows upon it. we have, however, the shield of a most blessed hope to protect us against the terrors that arise from fear of the divine judgments. this hope makes us put our trust, not in our own virtue, but solely in the mercy of god, and assures us that those who trust in his goodness are never confounded. but, you say, i have committed many faults. true, but who is so foolish as to think that he can commit more sins than god can pardon? who would dare to compare the greatness of his guilt with the immensity of that infinite mercy which drowns his sins in the depths of the sea of oblivion each time we repent of them for love of him? it belongs only to those who despair like cain to say that their sin is so great that there is no pardon for them,[ ] for _with god there is mercy and plentiful redemption, and he shall redeem israel from all his iniquities_.[ ] listen to the words of holy consolation which were addressed by our blessed father to a soul encompassed and assaulted by the terrors of death and of the judgment to follow. they are to be found in one of his letters. "yes," he says, "death is hideous indeed, that is most true, but the life which is beyond, and which the mercy of god will give to us, is much to be desired. there must be no mistrust in your mind, for, miserable though we may be, we are not half so miserable as god is merciful to those who desire to love him, and have fixed their hope in him. when st. charles borromeo was at the point of death he had the crucifix brought to him, that by the contemplation of his saviour's death he might soften the bitterness of his last agony. the best remedy of all against an unreasonable dread is meditation upon the death of him who is our life; we should never think of our own death without going on to reflect upon that of christ." [footnote : senec. epist. .] [footnote : kings xiv. .] [footnote : gen. iv. .] [footnote : psal. cxxix. - .] upon wishing to die. you ask me if we are permitted to wish for death rather than offend god any more? i will tell you a thought which i believe was suggested to me by our blessed father, but i cannot distinctly remember on what occasion. "it is always dangerous to wish for death, because this desire, generally speaking, is only to be met with in those who have arrived at a very high pitch of perfection, which we dare not think we have reached, or else in persons of a morose and melancholy temperament, and but seldom in those of ordinary disposition like ourselves." it is alleged that david, st. paul, and other saints expressed their longing to be delivered from the burden of this body so that they might appear before god and be satisfied with the vision of his glory. but we must remember that it would be presumptuous to speak the language of saints, not having their sanctity, and to imagine that we had it would be inexcusable vanity. to entertain such a wish because of sadness, disappointment, or dejection is akin to despair. but, you say, it is that you may no longer offend god. this, no doubt, shows great hatred of sin, but the saints longed for death, more that they might glorify god. whatever we may pretend, i believe it to be very difficult to have only this one end in view, in our desire to die. usually it will be found that we are simply discontented with life. to get to heaven we must not only not sin, but we must do good. if we refrain from sin we shall escape punishment, but more is required to deserve heaven. upon the same subject. there are some who imagine that st. paul desired to die in order only that he might sin no more when he said that he felt in himself a contradiction between the law of his senses and of his reason; and, feeling this, cried out: _oh! unhappy man that i am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?_[ ] these people, therefore, as though they were so many little apostles, when they are, by some trifle, goaded to impatience, instantly say that they desire to die, and pretend that their only wish is to be in a condition in which they cannot possibly offend god. this is, indeed, to cover up mere impatience and irritation with a fine cloak! but what is still worse, it is to wrench and distort the words of the apostle and apply them in a sense of which he never thought. our blessed father, in one of his letters, gives an explanation of this passage which is so clear and so excellent that i am sure if will be useful to you. he speaks thus: "_oh, unhappy man that i am_, said the great apostle, _who shall deliver me from the body of this death?_ he felt within himself, as it were, an armed host of ill humours, antipathies, bad habits, and natural inclinations which conspired to bring about his spiritual death; and because he fears them he declares that he hates them, and because he hates them he cannot support them without pain, and his grief makes him burst out into the exclamation which he himself answers in these words: _the grace of god by jesus christ_. this will deliver him not from the death of the body with its terrors, not from the last combat, but from defeat in the struggle, and will preserve him from being overcome. "you see how far the apostle is from invoking death, although elsewhere he desires to be set free from the prison of the body that he may be with jesus christ. he calls the mass of temptations which urge and incite him to sin a body of death, sin being the true death of the soul. grace is the death of this death and the devourer of this abortion of hell, for where sin abounded grace superabounds. "grace, which has been merited for us by jesus christ our saviour, to whom be honour and glory for ever and ever." [footnote : rom. vii. .] upon the desire of heaven. here is a little village story to show how often true and solid piety is to be found among the lowly and ignorant, of whom the world thinks not at all. i had it from the lips of our blessed father, who loved to tell it. while visiting his diocese, passing through a little country town, he was told that a well-to-do inhabitant was very ill and desired to see him, and to receive his blessing before he died. our blessed father hastened to his bedside and found him at the point of death, yet in full possession of all his faculties. when he saw the bishop the good farmer exclaimed: "oh! my lord, i thank god for permitting me to receive your blessing before i die." then the room being cleared of all his relations and friends, and he being left quite alone with the holy prelate, he made his confession and received absolution. his next question was, "my lord, shall i die?" the bishop, unwilling to alarm him unnecessarily, answered quietly and reassuringly that he had seen people far more ill than he recover, but that he must place all his trust in god, the master of life and death, who knows the number of our days, which cannot be even one more than he has decreed. "but, my lord," returned the man, "do you really yourself think that i shall die?" "my son," replied the good prelate, "a physician could answer that question better than i can. all i can tell you is that i know your soul to be just now in a very excellent state of preparation for death, and that perhaps were you summoned at any other time, you might not be so fit to go. the best thing you can do is to put aside all desire of living and all care about the matter, and to abandon yourself wholly to the providence and mercy of god, that he may do with you according to his good pleasure, which will be undoubtedly that very thing which is best for you." "oh, my lord," cried the sick man, "it is not because i fear to die that i ask you this, but rather because i fear i shall not die, for i can't reconcile myself to the idea of recovering from this sickness." francis was greatly surprised at hearing him speak in this manner, for he knew that a longing to die is generally either a grace given to very perfect souls such as david, elias, st. paul, and the like; or, on the contrary, in sinners a prelude to despair, or an outcome of melancholy. he therefore asked the man if he would really be sorry to live, and, if so, why such disgust for life, the love of which is natural in all men. "my lord," answered the good man, "this world appears to me to be of so small account that i cannot think why so many people care for nothing beyond what it has to give. if god had not commanded us to remain here below until he calls us by death i should have quitted it long ago." the bishop, imagining that the man had something on his mind, or that the bodily pain he was enduring was too much for him, asked him what his trouble was--perhaps something about money? "not at all," replied he, "i have up to the present time, and i am seventy, enjoyed excellent health, and have abundant means. indeed, i do not, thank god, know what poverty is." francis questioned him as to his wife and children, asking him if any one of them was an anxiety to him. "they are each one a comfort and a delight to me," he answered, "indeed, if i had any regret in quitting this world it would be that i shall have to part from them." more and more surprised, and unable to understand the man's distaste for life, the bishop said: "then, my brother, why do you so long for death?" "my lord," replied he, "it is because i have heard in sermons so much about the joys of paradise that this world seems to me a mere prison." then, speaking out of the fullness of his heart, and giving vent to his thoughts, he uttered marvellous words concerning the vision of god in heaven, and the love kindled by it in the souls of the blessed. he entered into so many details respecting the rapturous joys of eternity that the good bishop shed tears of delight, feeling that the good man had been taught by god in these things, and that flesh and blood had not revealed them to him, but the holy spirit. after this, descending from those high and heavenly speculations, the poor farmer depicted the grandeur, the wealth, and the choicest pleasures of the world in their true colours, showing their intrinsic vileness, and how in reality they are vanity and vexation of spirit, so as to inspire blessed francis himself with increased contempt for them. the saint, nevertheless, did no more than silently acquiesce in the good man's feelings, and to calm the excitement under which he saw that he was labouring, desired him to make acts of resignation, and indifference as to living or dying. he told him to follow the example set by st. paul, and by st. martin, and to make his own the words of the psalmist: _for what have i in heaven? and besides thee what do i desire upon earth?_[ ] a few hours later, having received extreme unction from the hands of the holy bishop, the man quietly, and apparently without suffering, passed from this world. so likewise may we when our last hour comes fall gently asleep. _blessed are the dead who die in the lord!_ another story told me by our blessed father relates to himself and a man with whom he came in contact. when he was at paris in the year , this gentleman, who was not only rich in this world's goods but also in piety and charity, came to consult him on matters of conscience, and began thus: "father, i am much afraid that i shall not save my soul, and therefore i have come to you to beg you to put me in the right way." the bishop asked him what was the cause of this fear. he answered: "my being too rich. you know scripture makes the salvation of the rich a matter of such difficulty that, in my case, i fear it is an impossibility." francis, thinking that perhaps he had made his money dishonestly, and that on that account his conscience was now pricking him, questioned him as to this. "not at all," he answered, "my parents, who were excellent people, left me no ill-gotten goods, and what i have added to my inheritance has been amassed by my own frugality and honest work, god preserve me from the sin of appropriating what belongs to my neighbour! no, my conscience does not reproach me in that respect." "well, then," said the bishop, "have you made a bad use of this wealth?" "i live," he replied, "in such a manner as becomes my rank and position, but i am afraid that i do not give enough to the poor, and you know that we shall be one day judged on this point." "have you any children?" asked francis. "yes," he replied; "but they are all well provided for, and can easily do without me." "really," said the bishop, "i do not see whence your scruples can arise; you are the first man i have ever met who has complained to me of having too much money; most people never have enough." it was easy to set this good soul at rest, so docile was he in following the bishop's advice. the latter told me afterwards that he found upon enquiry that the man had formerly held high appointments, discharging his duties in them most faithfully, but had retired from all in order to devote himself to works of piety and mercy. moreover, he passed all his time in churches or hospitals, or in the houses of the uncomplaining poor, upon whom he spent more than half his income. by his will, after his many pious legacies were paid, it was found that our lord himself was his real heir, for he gave to the town hospital a sum of money equal to that which was divided among his children. i may add that a life so holy and devoted was crowned by a most happy death. truly, _blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy!_ [footnote : psal. lxxii. .] what it is to die in god. on one occasion blessed francis was asked what it was to die in god; what was the meaning of those words: _blessed are the dead who die in the lord, that they may rest from their labours, for their works follow them._[ ] he replied that to die in god was to die in the grace of god, because god and his grace are as inseparable as the sun and its rays. he was asked again, if to die in god meant to die while in habitual grace, or to die in the exercise of charity, that is to say, whilst impelled by actual grace. he answered that in order to be saved it was enough to die in habitual or sanctifying grace, that is to say, in habitual charity; seeing that those who die in this state, as for instance newly-baptized infants, though they may never have performed a single act of charity, obtain paradise by right of inheritance, habitual charity making them children of god by adoption. those, however, who die, not only in the holy and supernatural state of habitual charity, but whilst actually engaged in works of charity, come into the possession of heaven by a double title, that of inheritance and that of reward; therefore is it written that _their works follow them_. the crown of justice is promised by the just judge to those who shall have fought a good fight and finished their course with perseverance, even to the end. going on to explain what is meant by man's dying in actual grace, he said that it was to die while making acts of lively faith and hope, of contrition, resignation, and conformity to the will of god. he added these words, which have always remained deeply impressed on my mind: "although god is all-powerful, it is impossible for him to condemn to eternal perdition a soul whose will, at the moment of its leaving the body, is subject to, and united with, his own." [footnote : apoc. xiv. .] upon length of life. judging from outward appearances, from the vigour of his frame, from his sound constitution, and from the temperate simplicity of his manner of life, it seemed probable that blessed francis would live to an advanced age. one day i said as much to him, he being at that time about forty-two or forty-three years old. "ah!" he replied with a sigh, "the longest life is not always the best. the best is that which has been best spent in the service of god," adding these words of david: _woe is me that my sojourning is prolonged; i have dwelt with the inhabitants of cedar, my soul hath been long a sojourner._[ ] i thought he was secretly grieving over his banishment from his see, his beloved geneva (he always called it thus), wrapped in the darkness of error, and i quoted to him the words: _upon the rivers of babylon there we sat, and wept._[ ] "oh! no," he answered, "it is not that exile which troubles me. i am only too well off in our city of refuge, this dear annecy. i meant the exile of this life on earth. as long as we are here below are we not exiled from god? _while we are in the body we are absent from the lord._[ ] _unhappy man that i am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? the grace of god by jesus christ._"[ ] i ventured in reply to remind him how much he had to make his life happy: how his friends esteemed him, how even the very enemies of religion honoured him, how all who came in contact with him delighted in his society. "all that," he answered, "is beneath contempt. those who had sung hosanna to the son of god three days later cried out _crucifige_. such things do not make my life any dearer to me. if i were told that i should live as long again as i have already done, and that without pain, without law-suits, without trouble, or inconveniences of any kind, but with all the content and prosperity men desire in life, i should be sadly disturbed in mind! of what small account are not the things of time to him who is looking forward to a blessed eternity! i have always praised the words of the blessed ignatius de loyola, 'oh! how vile and mean earth appears to me when i meditate upon and look up to heaven.'" [footnote : psalm cxix.] [footnote : psalm cxxxvi. .] [footnote : cor. v. .] [footnote : rom. vii. - .] upon purgatory. concerning purgatory, st. francis used to say that in the controversy with protestants there was no point on which the church could support her doctrine by so many proofs, drawn both from the scriptures and from the fathers and councils, as on this. he blamed those who oppose the doctrine for their lack of piety towards the dead. on the other hand, he reproved those catholic preachers who, when speaking of purgatory and of the pains and torments suffered there by the holy souls, do not at the same time enlarge upon their perfect love of god, and consequent entire satisfaction in the accomplishment of his will, with which their own will is so indissolubly united, that they cannot possibly feel the slightest movement of impatience or irritation. nor can they desire to be anywhere but where they are, were it even till the consummation of all things, if such should be god's good pleasure. on this subject he recommended the careful study of the _treatise on purgatory_, written by blessed catherine of genoa. by his advice i read the book with attention, and have often re-read it, always with fresh relish and profit. i have even invited protestants to read if, and they have been quite satisfied by it. one young convert admitted that had he seen this treatise before his conversion it would have helped him more than all the discussions into which the subject had led him. st. francis was of opinion that the thought of purgatory ought rather to comfort than to terrify. "the majority of those," he used to say, "who dread purgatory do so in view of their own interests, and out of self-love, rather than for god's interests. the cause of this is that those who preach on the subject are in the habit of depicting only the pains of that prison, and say not a word on the joy and peace which the souls therein detained enjoy. it is true that the torments of purgatory are so great that the most acute sufferings of this life cannot be compared with them; but, then, on the other hand, the inward satisfaction of the sufferers is such that no amount of earthly prosperity or contentment can equal it. °. the souls who are waiting there enjoy a continual union with god. °. their wills are in perfect subjection to his will; or, to speak more correctly, their wills are so absolutely transformed into the will of god that they cannot will anything but what he wills. °. if paradise were open to them, they would rather cast themselves down into hell than appear before god stained and denied as they see themselves still to be. °. they accept their purgatory lovingly and willingly, because it is the good pleasure of god. °. they wish to be there, in the manner in which it pleases god that they should be, and for as long as he wills. °. they cannot sin. °. they cannot feel the slightest movement of impatience. °. nor be guilty of the smallest imperfection. °. they love god more than themselves and more than any other creature, and with a perfect, pure, and disinterested love, °. they are in purgatory consoled by the angels. °. they are secure of their salvation. °. they are in a state of hope, which cannot but be realized. °. their grief is holy and calm. °. in short, if purgatory is a species of hell as regards suffering, it is a species of paradise as regards charity. the charity which quickens those holy souls is stronger than death, more powerful than hell; its lamps are all of fire and flame. neither servile fear nor mercenary hope has any part in their pure affection. purgatory is a happy state, more to be desired than dreaded, for all its flames are flames of love and sweetness. yet still it is to be dreaded, since it delays the end of all perfection, which consists in seeing god, and therefore fully loving him, and by this sight and by this love praising and glorifying him through all eternity." upon penance. he compared penance to an almond tree, not only in allusion to the word _amendment_ and the expression, amend your ways, both of which in the french language resemble in sound the word _almond_, but by a very ingenious comparison. "the almond tree," he said, "has its blossom of five petals, which as regards number bear some resemblance to the five fingers of the hand, its leaves are in the shape of a tongue, and its fruit of a heart. thus the sacrament of penance has three parts which make up its whole. the first which concerns the heart is _contrition_, of which david says that god heals those who are contrite of heart,[ ] and that he does not despise the humble and contrite heart.[ ] "the second, which concerns the tongue, is _confession_. the third, which regards the hand, that is to say, the doing of good works, is _satisfaction_. moreover," he went on to say, "as there are almonds of two kinds, the one sweet, the other bitter, which being mixed make a pleasant flavour, agreeable to the palate, so also in penance there is a certain blending of sweetness and bitterness, of consolation and pain, of love and regret, resembling in taste the pomegranate, which has a certain sharp sweetness and a certain sweet sharpness far more agreeable than either sharpness or sweetness separately. penance which had only the sweetness of consolation would not be a cleansing hyssop, powerful to purge away the stains of iniquity. nor, if it had only the bitterness of regret and sorrow, without the sweetness of love, could it ever lead us to that justification which is only perfected by a loving displeasure at having offended the eternal, supreme, and sovereign goodness." our blessed father treats of this mingling of love and sorrow proper to true penitence with so much grace and gravity in his theotimus that i think nothing grander or sweeter could be written on the subject. here is an extract. "amidst the tribulation and remorse of a lively repentance god often kindles at the bottom of our heart the sacred fire of his love; this love is converted into the water of tears, then by a second change into another and greater fire of love. thus the penitent magdalen, the great lover, first loved her saviour; her love was converted into tears, and these tears into an excellent love; whence our saviour told her that many sins were pardoned her because _she had loved much_. the beginning of perfect love not only follows upon penitence, but clings to it and knits itself to it; in one word, this beginning of love mingles itself with the end of penitence, and in this moment of mingling penitence and contrition merit life everlasting."[ ] [footnote : psalm cxlvi. .] [footnote : psalm l. .] [footnote : _love of god_, book ii, c. .] upon penitent confusion. our blessed father had a wonderful aptitude for distinguishing between what was real and genuine and what was false in the shame manifested by his penitents. he used to say that when this confusion was full of trouble and agitation it proceeded from self-love, from vexation and shame at having to own our sins and imperfections, not from the spirit of god. this he expresses in his second conference in these words: "we must never suffer our confusion to be attended with sadness and disquietude; that kind of confusion proceeds from self-love, because we are troubled at not being perfect, not so; much for the love of god as for love of ourselves." an extract from theotimus will close this subject most suitably: "remorse which positively excludes the love of god is infernal, it is like that of the lost. repentance which does not regret the love of god, even though as yet it is without it, is good and desirable, but imperfect: it can never save us until it attains to love, and is mingled with it. so that, as the great apostle said, even if he gave his body to be burned, and all his goods to the poor, and had not charity it would all be of no avail; we, too, may say with truth, that, however great our penitence may be, even though it make our eyes overflow with tears of sorrow, and our hearts to break with remorse, still if we have not the holy love of god it will serve us nothing as regards eternal life."[ ] [footnote : book ii. c. .] upon interior peace amidst anxieties. it is a great mistake when souls, in other respects good and pious, imagine that it is impossible to preserve inward peace amid bustle and turmoil. there are some even, strange to say, who though dedicated to god by their holy calling, complain if they are employed by their community in laborious and troublesome offices, calling them distracting functions and occupations. assuredly, these good people know not what they say, any more than did st. peter on mount thabor. what do they mean by distracting occupations? possibly those which separate us from god? i know nothing which can separate us from his love except sin, which is that labour in brick and clay in which the infernal pharaoh, tyrant of souls, and king over the children of pride, employs his unhappy subjects. these are the strange gods who give no rest either by night or by day. but with that exception, i know of no legitimate occupation which can either separate us from god, or, still more, which cannot serve as a means to unite us to him. this may be said of all callings, of those of soldiers, lawyers, merchants, artisans. our blessed father devotes two chapters in his theotimus to this subject, but he speaks even more explicitly upon it in one of his letters, in which he says: "let us all belong wholly to god, even amid the tumult and disturbance stirred up round about us by the diversity of human affairs. when can we give better proof of our fidelity than amid contrarieties, alas! my dearest daughter, my sister, solitude has its assaults, the world has its disorder and uproar; yet in either we must be of good heart, since everywhere heaven is close to those who have confidence in god, and who with humility and gentleness implore his fatherly assistance. beware of letting your carefulness degenerate into trouble and anxiety." "tossed about upon the waves and amid the winds of many a tumult, always look up to heaven, and say to our lord: 'o god, it is for thee that i set my sails and plough the seas; be thou my guide and my pilot!' and then console yourself by remembering that when we are in port the joys which will be ours will blot out all remembrance of our toils and struggles to reach it. we are now voyaging thither in the midst of all these storms, and shall safely reach our harbour if only we have an upright heart, a good intention, firm courage, eyes fixed on god, and place all our confidence in him. if the violence of the tempest makes our head dizzy, and we feel shaken and sick, do not let us be surprised, but, as quickly as we can, let us take breath again, and encourage ourselves to do better. i feel quite sure that you are not forgetful of your good resolutions as you pursue your way; do not then distress yourself about these little attacks of anxiety, and vexation, caused by the multiplicity of domestic affairs. nay, my dear daughter, all this tumult gives you opportunities of practising the dearest and most lovable of the virtues recommended to you by our lord. believe me, true virtue is not nourished in external calm any more than are good fish found in the stagnant waters of the marshes." upon discouragement. our blessed father used to say that the most cowardly of all temptations was discouragement. when the enemy of our salvation makes us lose hope of ever advancing in virtue he has gained a great advantage over us, and may very soon succeed in thrusting us down into the abyss of vice. those who fly into a passion at the sight of their own imperfections are like people who want to strike and bruise their own faces, because they are not handsome enough to please their self-love. they only hurt themselves the more. the holy bishop wishing to correct this fault in one of his penitents said to her: "have patience with every one, but especially with yourself. i mean, do not be over-troubled about your imperfections, but always have courage enough at once to rise up again when you fall into any of them. i am very glad to hear that you begin afresh every day. there is no better means for persevering in the spiritual life than continually to be beginning again, and never to think that one has done enough." on these words we may make the following reflections: . how shall we patiently suffer the faults of our neighbour if we are impatient over our own? . how shall we reprove others in a spirit of gentleness if we correct ourselves with irritation, with disgust, and with unreasonable sharpness? what can come out of a bag but what is in it? . those who fret impatiently over their own imperfections will never correct themselves of them, for correction, if it is to be of use, must proceed from a tranquil, restful mind. _cowardice_, says david, _is the companion of trouble and tempest_. . he who has lost courage has lost everything, he who has thrown up the game can never win, nor can the soldier who has thrown away his arms return to the fight, however much he may want to do. . david said: _i waited for him that saved me from pusillanimity and a storm_. he who believes himself to be far advanced in the ways of god has not yet even made a good beginning. . st. paul, who had been raised to the third heaven, who had fought so many good fights, run so many splendid races, and had kept the faith inviolate, in spite of all, never thought that he had finished his work, or reached the goal, but always pressed forward as though he had but just begun.[ ] . this mortal life is but a road leading to heaven. it is a road to which we must steadily keep. he who stops short in it runs the risk of not reaching safely the presence of god in which it ends. he who says, i have enough, thereby shows that he has not enough; for in spiritual things sufficiency implies the desire for more. [footnote : cor. xii. , .] upon rising after a fall. our blessed father was a great enemy to hurry and over-eagerness, even in rising up again after a fall. he used to say that if our act of contrition is more hurried than humble we are very likely to fall again soon, and that this second fall will be worse than the first. as he considered our penitence incomplete without an act of the love of god, so also he maintained recovery from a fall to be imperfect if not accompanied by tranquillity and peace. he wished us to correct ourselves, as well as others, in a spirit of sweetness. here is the advice which he gives on the subject. "when we happen to fall from some sudden outburst of self-love, or of passion, let us as soon as possible prostrate ourselves in spirit before god, saying, with confidence and humility: have mercy on me, for i am weak. let us rise again with peace and tranquillity and knot up again our network of holy indifference, then go on with our work. when we discover that our lute is out of tune, we must neither break the strings nor throw the instrument aside; but listen attentively to find out what is the cause of the discord, and then gently tighten or slacken the strings, according to what is required." to those who replied to him that we ought to judge ourselves with severity, he said: "it is true that with regard to ourselves we ought to have the heart of a judge, but as the judge who hastily, or under the influence of passion, pronounces sentence, runs the risk of committing an injustice, but not so when reason is master of his actions and behaviour, we must, in order to judge ourselves with equity, do so with a gentle, peaceful mind, not in a fit of anger, nor when so troubled as hardly to know what we are doing." upon kindliness towards ourselves. since the measure and the model of the love which god commands us to bear towards our neighbour ought to be the just and christian love which we should bear towards ourselves, and as charity, which is patient and kind, obliges us to correct our neighbours' faults with gentleness and sweetness, our blessed father did not consider it right that we should correct ourselves in a manner different from this, nor be harsh and severe with ourselves because of our falls and ill-doings. in one of his letters he wrote as follows: "when we have committed a fault, let us at once examine our heart and ask it whether it does not still preserve living and entire the resolution to serve god. it will, i hope, answer yes, and that it would rather die a thousand deaths than give up this resolution. let us go on to ask it further. why, then, are you stumbling now? why are you so cowardly? it will reply: i was taken by surprise: i know not how; but i am tolerably firm now. ah! my dear daughter, we must pardon it; it was not from infidelity, but from infirmity that it failed. we must then correct ourselves gently and quietly, and not irritate and disturb ourselves still more. rise up, my heart, my friend, we should say to ourselves, and lift up our thoughts to our help, and our god. "yes, my dear daughter, we must be charitable to our own soul, and not rebuke it over harshly when we see that the fault it has committed was not fully wilful." moreover, he would not have us accuse ourselves over-vehemently and exaggerate our faults. at the same time, he had no desire that in regard to ourselves we should err on the side of leniency. he wanted us to embrace the happy medium, by humiliating without discouraging ourselves, and by encouraging ourselves with humility. in another letter he says: "be just, neither accuse nor excuse your poor soul, except after much consideration, for fear lest if you excuse yourself when you should not, you become careless, and if you accuse yourself without cause, you discourage yourself and become cowardly. walk simply and you will walk securely." upon imperfections. "some people have so high an opinion of their own perfection that should they discover any failings or imperfections in themselves they are thrown into despair. they are like people so anxious about their health that the slightest illness alarms them, and who take so many precautions to preserve this precious health that in the end they ruin it." our blessed father wished us to profit, not only by our tribulations, but also by our imperfections, and that these latter should serve to establish and settle us in a courageous humility, and make us hope, even against hope, and in spite of the most discouraging appearances. "in this way," he said, "we draw our healing and help from the very hand of our adversaries." to a person who was troubled at her imperfections, he wrote thus: "we should, indeed, like to be without imperfections, but, my dearest daughter, we must submit patiently to the trial of having a human, rather than an angelic, nature. our imperfections ought not, indeed, to please us; on the contrary, we should say with the holy apostle: _unhappy man, that i am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death!_[ ] but, at the same time, they ought not to astonish us, nor to discourage us: we should draw from them submission, humility, and mistrust of ourselves; never discouragement and loss of heart, far less distrust of god's love for us; for though he loves not our imperfections and venial sins, he loves us, in spite of them. "the weakness and backwardness of a child displeases its mother, but she does not for that reason love it less. on the contrary, she loves it more fondly, because she compassionates it. so, too, is it with god, who cannot, as i have said, love our imperfections and venial sins, but never ceases to love us, so that david with reason cries out to him: _have mercy on me, o lord, for i am weak._"[ ] [footnote : rom. vii. .] [footnote : psalm vi. .] the just man falls seven times in the day. a good man meditating upon this passage, and taking it too literally, fell into a perfect agony, saying to himself: "alas! how many times a day, then, must not i, who am _not_ just, fall?" yet during his evening examination of conscience, however closely and carefully he searched, and however much he was on the watch during the day to observe his failings and faults, he sometimes could not make up the number. greatly troubled and perplexed about this, he carried his difficulties to our blessed father, who settled them in this way: "in the passage which you have quoted," he said, "we are not told that the just man sees or feels himself fall seven times a day, but only that he does fall seven times, and that he raises himself up again without paying any heed to his so doing. do not then distress yourself; humbly and frankly confess what you have observed of faulty in yourself, and what you do not see, leave to the sweet mercy of him who puts out his hand to prevent those who fall without malice, from being jarred or bruised against the hard ground; and who raises them up again so quickly and gently that they never notice it nor are conscious of having so much as fallen." the great imperfection of most of us proceeds from want of reflection, but, on the other hand, there are many who think overmuch, who fall into the mistake of too close self-inspection, and who are perpetually fretting over their failings and weaknesses. blessed francis writes again on the subject: "it is quite certain that as long as we are imprisoned in this heavy and corruptible body there will always be something wanting in us. i do not know whether i have already told you that we must have patience with every one; and, first of all, with ourselves. for since we have learnt to distinguish between the old adam and the new, between the outward man and the inward, we are really more troublesome to ourselves than any of our neighbours." upon the purgative way. of the three ways leading to perfection the first is called the purgative, and consists in the purifying of the soul; from which, as from a piece of waste ground, we must take away the brambles and thorns of sin before planting there trees which shall bear good fruit. this purgation has, however, two different stages; that which precedes the justification of the soul, and that which follows it. this latter may again be subdivided into two parts. there is not only the freeing of the soul from sin, whether mortal or venial, but there is also its purgation from any inclination or attachment to either the one or the other. it is not enough to be purged from deadly sin; we must labour incessantly to rid ourselves of any love, however slight, of the sin from which we have been cleansed, otherwise we shall be only too likely to fall back into it again. it is the same as regards venial sins. our blessed father speaks of this purgative way in his philothea as follows: "we can never be wholly pure from venial sins, at least, never for any continuous length of time, but we can and may get rid of any sort of affection for these lesser faults. assuredly it is one thing to tell falsehoods once or twice, lightly and thoughtlessly, and in matters of small importance; and another to take delight in lying and to cling fondly to this sort of sin."[ ] besides venial sins, there are certain natural propensities and inclinations which are called imperfections, since they tend towards evil, and, if unchecked, lead to excesses of various kinds. they are not, properly speaking, sins, either mortal or venial; nevertheless they are true failings and defects of which we must endeavour to correct ourselves, inasmuch as they are displeasing both to god and man. such are propensities to anger, grief, joy, excessive laughter, flattery, favouritism, self-pity, suspicion, over-eagerness, precipitancy, and vain affections. we must strive to rid ourselves of those defects which, like weeds, spring up without being sown in the soil of our corrupt nature, and incline us to evil from our birth. the means of getting rid of all these evils, whether mortal sins, venial ones, imperfections, or attachment to any or all of these, you will find most clearly set forth by our blessed father in the same book.[ ] i once asked him what was the true difference between venial sin and imperfection, and i will try to recall his teaching on the subject that i may impart it to you. every venial sin is an imperfection, but every imperfection is not a venial sin. in sin there is always malice, and malice is in the will, hence the maxim that nothing involuntary is sin; and according to the degree of this malice, whether great or small, and according to the matter on which it is exercised, the sin is either mortal or venial. you ask me if imperfections are matters sufficient for confession, as well as venial sin. our blessed father considered that it was well to accuse ourselves of them in order to learn from the confessor how to correct ourselves of and get rid of them. he did not, however, think them sufficient matter for the sacrament, and for this reason when his penitents only told him of imperfections he would make them add some venial sin committed in the past, so as to furnish sufficient matter for absolution, i say sufficient, but not absolutely necessary matter, for it is only mortal sin that has these two qualities. [footnote : part i. chap. .] [footnote : part i. chaps. , , , , .] upon venial sin. he compares venial sin to the diamond which was thought by its presence to prevent the loadstone from attracting iron. a soul attached to venial sin is retarded in its progress in the path of justice, but when the hindrance is removed god dilates the heart and makes it to run in the way of his commandments. you ask me if a great number of venial sins can ever make up a mortal one, and consequently cause us to lose the grace of god. no, indeed! not all the venial sins which ever existed could make one mortal sin: but nevertheless, not many venial sins are needed to dispose us to commit a mortal one, as it is written that _he that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little,[ ] and that he who loves danger shall perish in it_.[ ] for, according to the maxim of st. bernard, received by all spiritual writers, not to advance in the way of god is to fall back, not to sow with him is to scatter, not to gather up is to lose, not to build is to pull down, not to be for god is to be against him, not to reap with him is to lay waste. now to commit a venial sin is essentially a not working with god, though it may not be a positive working against him. "charity," says our blessed father, "being an active quality cannot be long without either acting or dying: it is, say the early fathers, symbolized by rachel. _give me children_, she said to her husband, _otherwise i shall die_.[ ] thus charity urges the heart which she has espoused to make her fertile in good works; otherwise she will perish." venial sin, especially when the soul clings to it, makes us run the risk of losing charity, because it exposes us to the danger of committing mortal sin, by which alone charity is driven forth and banished from the soul. on this subject our blessed father, in the chapter from which we have already quoted, speaks as follows: "neither venial sin, nor even the affection to it, is contrary to the essential resolution of charity, which is to prefer god before all things; because by this sin we love something outside reason but not against reason. we make too much and more than is fit of creatures, yet we do not positively prefer them before the creator. we occupy ourselves more than we ought in earthly things; yet we do not, for all that, forsake heavenly things. "in fine, venial sin impedes us in the way of charity, but does not put us out of it, and, therefore, venial sin, not being contrary to charity, never destroys charity either wholly or partially." further on he says: "however, venial sin is sin, and consequently it troubles charity, not as a thing that is contrary to charity itself, but as being contrary to its operations and progress and even to its intention. for, as this intention is that we should direct all our actions to god, it is violated by venial sin, which is the referring of an action to something outside of god and of the divine will." [footnote : eccle. iii. .] [footnote : id. iii. .] [footnote : _the love of god_. book iv. chap. .] upon complicity in the sins of another. there are some scrupulous minds which are perplexed by everything and frightened at shadows. in conversation, and in mixing with others, a faulty word which they may hear or a reprehensible action they may witness, however much they may in their secret hearts detest it, is at once charged upon their own conscience as a partaking in the sins of others. they are also troubled with doubts, and are uncertain whether it is their duty or not to denounce the faults of their neighbour, to express their own disapproval, and to rebuke the offender. to a soul perplexed on this subject our blessed father gives the following wholesome advice: "as regards conversation, my dear daughter, do not worry about anything said or done by others. if good, you can praise god for it, if evil, it will furnish you with an opportunity of serving god by turning away your thoughts from it, showing neither surprise nor irritation, since you are not a person of sufficient importance to be able to put a stop to bad or idle talk. indeed, any attempt on your part to do so would make things worse. acting as as i bid you to do you will remain unharmed amid the hissing of serpents and, like the strawberry, will not assimilate their poison even though licked by their venomous tongues." upon equivocating. our saint used to say that to equivocate was, in his opinion, to canonize lying, and that simplicity was, after all, the best kind of shrewdness. the children of darkness, he said, use cunning and artifice in their dealings with one another, but the children of god should take for their motto the words: he that walketh sincerely walketh confidently. duplicity, simulation, insincerity always betray a low mind. if, in the language of the wise man, _the lips that lie kill the soul_, what can be the effect of the conversation of one who habitually speaks with a _double heart_?[ ] [footnote : psalm xii. .] upon solitude. some one was praising country life, and calling it holy and innocent. blessed francis replied that country life has drawbacks just as city life has, and that as there is both good and bad company, so there is also good and bad solitude. good, when god calls us into it, as he says by a prophet, _i will lead her into the wilderness and i will speak to her heart_.[ ] bad, when it is of that kind of which it is written, _woe to him that is alone_.[ ] as regards holiness and innocence, he said that country folk were certainly far from being, as a matter of course, endowed with these good qualities. as for temptations and occasions of sin, he said: "there are evil spirits who go to and fro in desert places quite as much as in cities; if grace does not hold us up everywhere, everywhere we may stumble. lot, who in the most wicked of all cities was holy and just, when in solitude fell into the most dreadful of sins. men carry themselves about with them and find themselves everywhere, and frailty can no more be got rid of by them than can the shadow by the body that casts it. "many deceive themselves greatly and become their own seducers by imagining that they possess those virtues, the sins contrary to which they do not commit. the absence of a vice and the possession of its contrary virtue are very different things. "to be without folly is, indeed, to have the beginning of wisdom, but it is a beginning so feeble as by itself scarcely to deserve the name of wisdom. "abstaining from evil is a very different thing from doing good, although this abstaining is of itself a species of good: it is like the plan of a building compared with the building itself. virtue does not consist so much in habit as in action. habit is in itself an indolent sort of quality, which, indeed, inclines us to do good, but does no more, unless inclination be followed by action. "how shall he who has no one in command set over him learn obedience? he who is never contradicted, patience? he who has no superior, humility? and how shall he who, like a misanthrope, flies from intercourse with other men, notwithstanding that he is obliged to love them as himself, how shall he, i say, learn brotherly love? "there are many virtues which cannot be practised in solitude; above all, mercy, upon the exercise of which we shall be questioned and judged at the last day; and of which it is said: _blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy_."[ ] [footnote : osee ii. .] [footnote : eccle. iv. .] [footnote : matt. v. .] upon vanity. it is a vanity of the understanding to think ourselves more than we really are; but it is a far more dangerous vanity of the will to aspire to a condition higher than our own, and to persuade ourselves that we are deserving of it. he who thinks himself to be more than he is has in his mind some picture of content and satisfaction, and consequently some sort of tranquillity like one who finds his peace and repose in his riches. but he who aspires to a condition more exalted than his own is in a constant state of disquietude, like the needle of the compass which trembles incessantly until it points to the north. an ancient proverb makes the happiness of this life to consist in wishing to be what we are and nothing more. _quod sis esse velis, nihilque malis._ blessed francis who, in his own opinion, had already risen too high in the hierarchy of the church, turned his thoughts rather to giving up his dignities than to seeking promotion. he looked forward to the calm retreat of solitude rather than the dignity of illustrious offices. he was even apprehensive of the high esteem in which he knew that he was held, dreading lest he should be less the servant of god for thus delighting men. on one occasion some worthy soul having warned him to keep humble amid the praises and acclamations bestowed on him, he answered: "you please me greatly by recommending holy humility to me, for, do you know, when the wind gets imprisoned in our valleys, among our mountains, even the little flowers are beaten down and the trees are uprooted. i am situated rather high up and, in my post of bishop, am tossed about most of all. o lord! save us: command these winds of vanity to cease to blow and there will be a great calm. stand firm, o my soul, and clasp very tightly the foot of our saviour's holy cross: the rain which falls there in plenteous showers on all sides stills the wind, however violent it may be. "when i am there, o my god, as i sometimes am, how sheltered is my soul, and how refreshed by that crimson dew! but no sooner have i moved a single step away than the wind again takes me off my feet!" upon the knowledge which puffs up. you wish to know what st. paul means when he says that _knowledge puffs up_ and that _charity edifies_.[ ] i imagine he means by the knowledge which puffs up, that which is destitute of charity and which consequently tends only to vanity. _all those are vain_, say the sacred scriptures, _who have not the knowledge of god_;[ ] and what is this knowledge of god if not the knowledge of his ways and of his will? it is the god of knowledge who teaches this knowledge to men; the science of the saints, the science which makes saints, the science of salvation, a science without which all else is absolute ignorance. he who thinks that he knows something and does not know how to save his soul, does not yet know what it is most important to know. those who know many things without knowing themselves, and without knowing god in the manner in which even in this present life he can be known and desires to be known, resemble the giants in the fable, who piled up mountains and then buried themselves beneath them. do not, however, think for a moment that, in order to save our souls, or to be truly devout, we must be ignorant; for, as sugar spoils no sauce, true knowledge is in no wise opposed to devotion. on the contrary, by enlightening the understanding it contributes much to fervour in the will. listen to what our blessed father says on this subject in his theotimus: "knowledge is not of itself contrary, but very useful to devotion. meeting, they should marvellously assist one another; though it too often happens through our misery that knowledge hinders the birth of devotion, because _knowledge puffeth up_ and makes us proud, and pride, which is contrary to all virtue, ruins all devotion. without doubt, the eminent science of a cyprian, an augustine, a hilary, a chrysostom, a basil, a gregory, a bonaventure, a thomas, not only taught these saints to value, but greatly enhanced their devotion; as again, their devotion not only supernaturalized, but eminently perfected their knowledge."[ ] [footnote : cor. viii. .] [footnote : sap. xiii. .] [footnote : book vi. chap. .] upon scruples. it was blessed francis' opinion that scruples have their origin in a _cunning_ self-esteem. i call it _cunning_ because it is so subtle and crafty as to deceive even those who are troubled by it. as a proof of this assertion he evidenced the fact that "those who suffer from this malady will not acquiesce in the judgment of their directors, however discreet and enlightened in the ways of god they may be; obstinately clinging to their own opinions instead of, by humble submission, accepting the remedies and consequent peace offered to them. who can wonder at the prolonged sufferings of the sick man who resolutely refuses every salutary remedy which he is entreated to take? who will pity one who suffers himself to die of hunger and thirst, although everything that could satisfy the one and quench the other be placed within his reach? "holy scripture teaches us that the crime of disobedience is equal in guilt to that of idolatry and witchcraft. but what shall we say of the disobedience of the scrupulous, who so idolize their own opinions as to be absolutely slaves to them, and whom no sort of remonstrance or reasoning will convince of the idleness of their unfounded fears. "they will tell you, in answer to your judicious and soothing arguments, that you are only flattering them, that they are misunderstood, that they do not explain themselves clearly, and so on. "this is, indeed, a malady difficult of cure, because, like jealousy, its fires are fed by everything with which it comes in contact. may god preserve you from this lingering and sad disease, which i regard as the quartan fever or jaundice of the soul." upon temptations. "if we only knew how to make a good use of temptations," said our blessed father, "instead of dreading, we should welcome them--i had almost said desire them. but because our weakness and our cowardice are only too well known to us, from our long experience, and from many sorrowful falls, we have good reason to say, _lead us not into temptation_. "if to this just mistrust of ourselves we united confidence in god, who is stronger to deliver us from temptation than we are weak in falling into it, our hopes would rise in proportion to the lessening of our fears. _for by thee i shall be delivered from temptation, and through my god i shall go over a wall._"[ ] with such a support can we not boldly tread upon the asp and the basilisk, and trample under foot the lion and the dragon?[ ] as it is in temptation that we learn to know the greatness of our courage and of our fidelity to god, so it is by suffering temptation that we make progress in strength of heart, and that we learn to wield the weapons of our warfare, which are spiritual against the spiritual malice of our invisible enemies. then it is that our soul, clothed in the panoply of grace, appears terrible to them as an army in battle array, and as the hosts of the lord. some think that all is lost when they are tormented by thoughts of blasphemy and impiety, and fancy that their faith is gone. yet as long as these thoughts merely distress them and they are resisted, they cannot harm them, and such stormy winds only serve to make souls become more deeply rooted in faith. as much has to be said of temptations against purity and other virtues, for the maxim is quite a general one. there is no good christian who is not tempted. the angel said to tobias: _because thou wast acceptable to god it was necessary that temptation, should prove thee._[ ] [footnote : psalm xxvi. .] [footnote : psalm xc. .] [footnote : job xii. .] upon the same subject. you ask me why god permits the enemy of our salvation to afflict us with so many temptations, which put us into such great danger of offending god and losing our soul. i might answer you in words from holy scripture, but i will give you our blessed father's teaching on the subject, which is only an interpretation of what st. paul and st. james tell us in their epistles: "do you know," he says, "what god does in temptation?" he permits the evil one to furbish up his wares and to offer them to us for sale, so that by the contempt with which we look upon them we may show our affection for divine things. must you then, my dear sister, my dearest daughter, because of this temptation, fret and disquiet yourself and change your manner of thought? oh, no! by no means, it is the devil who prowls round about your soul, peeping and prying to see if he can find an open door. he did this with job, with st. anthony, with st. catherine of siena, and with an infinity of good souls whom i know, as well as with my own, which is good-for-nothing, and which i do not know. and have you, my good daughter, to distress yourself about what the devil attempts? let him wait outside and keep all the avenues of your soul fast shut. in the end he will be tired out, or if not god will force him to raise the siege. remember what i think i have told you before. it is a good sign when the devil stirs up such a tumult outside the fortress of your will, for it shows he is not inside it. one cause of our interior trouble and mental disturbance is the difficulty we experience in discerning whether a temptation comes from within or from without, whether it is from our own heart or from the enemy, who takes up his position as a besieger before that heart? you may apply the following test in order to find out. does the temptation please or displease you? one of the ancient fathers says that sins which displease us cannot harm us. how much less then displeasing temptations! notice that, as long as the temptation displeases you there is nothing to fear, for why should it displease if not because your will does not consent to it?" "but," you say, "if i, as it were, dally with the temptation, either from inadvertence or torpor, or slothful unwillingness to reject and repel it, is not that in a way taking pleasure in it?" "the evil of temptation is not measured by its duration: it may be working against us all our life long, but while it displeases us it cannot make us fail into sin; on the contrary, being repulsive to us, this very antipathy not only preserves us from being infected by its venom, but adds strength to our virtue and jewels to our crown." "but i am so much afraid of taking pleasure in it!" "that very fear is a proof that it displeases you, for we are not afraid of that which pleases us. we are not terrified except by what displeases us, just as we can only enjoy what is good or has the appearance of being good. "if you were able all the time to look upon temptation as an evil it cannot have pleased you." "still, is it wrong to find pleasure in thinking of what is sinful?" "if this pleasure is felt before we reflect that the thing is evil it is of no consequence, since voluntary malice and consent are needed to make this pleasure a sin." "how shall we know whether or not we have yielded this consent?" "assuredly, it is difficult to define the nature of voluntary consent. this difficulty gave rise to the saying of the psalmist, _who can understand sins?_[ ] "this, too, is why he prays to be delivered from his secret faults, that is to say, from sins which he cannot easily discern." i will, however, on this subject give you another excellent lesson which i learned from our blessed father. "when you are doubtful," he said to me, "whether or not you have consented to evil, always take the doubt for a negative, and for this reason. a true and full consent of the will is necessary to form a real grave sin, there being no sin in what is not voluntary. now full consent is so clear that there can never be left in the mind a shadow of doubt about its having taken place." this plain teaching surely cuts the gordian knot of our perplexities. [footnote : psalm xviii. .] thoughts on the incarnation. there are two opinions held by theologians on the subject of the incarnation. some hold that had adam never sinned the son of god would not have become incarnate, others that the incarnation would have taken place even had our first parents remained in the state of innocence and original justice in which they were created. for, as they urge, the word was made flesh, not to merely be a redeemer and restorer of the human race, but that through him god might be glorified. our blessed father held this second opinion, which he advanced, not only in familiar conversation and in the pulpit, but also in his writings. in his theotimus he expresses himself thus: "god knew from all eternity that he could create an innumerable multitude of beings with divers perfections and qualities, to whom he might communicate himself. and considering that amongst all the different communications which were possible, none was so excellent as that of uniting himself to some created nature, in such sort that the creature might be engrafted and implanted in the divinity, and become one single person with it: his infinite goodness, which of itself and by itself tends towards communication, resolved and determined to communicate himself in this manner. so that, as eternally there is an essential communication in god, by which the father communicates all his infinite and indivisible divinity to the son in producing him, and the father and the son together producing the holy ghost, communicate to him also their own singular divinity; so this sovereign sweetness was so perfectly communicated externally to a creature that the created nature and the divinity retaining each of them its own properties were, notwithstanding so united together that they were but one same person. now of all the creatures which that sovereign omnipotence could produce, he thought good to make choice of human nature which afterwards in effect was united to the person of god the son, he created it, and to it he destined the incomparable honour of personal union with his divine majesty, to the end that for all eternity it might enjoy above all others the treasures of his infinite glory."[ ] this thought has always pleased me exceedingly; this thought, i mean, of the communication of god, in the worthiest manner possible, namely, through the mystery of the incarnation. but ah! what shall we then say of the mystery of the most holy eucharist, which is, as it were, an extension of the incarnation! in the holy eucharist the son of god, in his overflowing mercy, not content with having made himself the son of man, a sharer in our humanity and our brother, has invented a wondrous way of communicating himself to each one of us in particular. by this he incorporates himself in us, and us in him. he dwells in us, and makes us dwell in him, becoming our food and support, flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone, by a grace which surpasses every other grace, since it contains in itself the author of all grace! truly, we possess in this divine mystery, though veiled and hidden under the sacramental species, him whom the angels desire to see, even while they see him continually. nor is there any difference between their possession and ours, except in the manner in which it is effected. for if they have the advantage of sight, we have that of a closer intimacy, seeing that he is only before them as the beatific vision, while he is actually within us, as the living and life-giving bread, a bread strengthening our heart, or, rather, the very heart of our heart, or the soul of our heart, or the heart of our soul. and if the heart of the disciples of emmaus burned within them when he only spoke to them on their way, what ardour should be kindled in our breasts by the receiving of him who came to bring the fire of divine love upon earth, that it might inflame and kindle all hearts! you ask me whether we are happier in having been redeemed from that state of original sin into which our first parents fell than had we been born in the innocence which was theirs at their creation. at first sight it would seem that never to have been bound by the chain of misery and evil with which the first sin of adam fettered us would surely have been more desirable than even to be loosed from it by the divine goodness! this, however, is a merely human judgment, revealed to us by flesh and blood. the light of faith, far brighter and more ennobling, teaches us a sublimer lesson. this is what our blessed father says on the subject: "who can doubt of the abundance of the means of salvation, since we have so great a saviour, for the sake of whom we have been made, and by whose merits we have been ransomed. for he died, for all, because all were dead, and his mercy was more far-reaching when he built up anew the race of men than adam's misery when he ruined it. "indeed, adam's sin was so far from quenching god's love for mankind, that, on the contrary, it stirred it up, and invited it. so that by a most sweet and loving re-action, love was quickened by the presence of sin, and as if re-collecting its forces for victory over evil, made _grace to superabound where sin had abounded_.[ ] whence, holy church, in an excess of devout wonder, cries out (upon easter-eve), 'o truly necessary sin of adam, which was blotted out by the death of jesus christ! o happy fault which merited to have such and so great a redeemer!' truly, theotimus, we may say, as did he of old, 'we were ruined, had we not been undone; that is, ruin brought us profit, since in effect human nature, through being redeemed by its saviour, has received more graces than ever it would have received if adam had remained innocent.'"[ ] one of the marvels of divine omnipotence is that it knows by a secret power, reserved to itself alone, how to draw good from evil, the contrary from the contrary; water from, fire, as in the furnace of the three children[ ] and fire from water, as in the sacred fire which was found in a well, the thick water of which was changed into fire. by this secret power he makes all things work together for good to those who love him. "truly," says our blessed father, in the same place, "as the rainbow touching the thorn _aspalathus_, makes it more odoriferous than the lily, so our saviour's redemption, touching our miseries makes them more beneficial and worthy of love than original innocence could ever have been. "_i say to you_, says our saviour, _there shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner that doth penance; more than upon ninety-nine just, who need not penance_,[ ] and so the state of redemption is a hundred times better than that of innocence. "verily, by the watering of our saviour's blood, made with the hyssop of the cross, we have been re-clothed in a whiteness incomparably more excellent than the snowy robe of innocence. we come out, like naaman, from the stream of salvation more pure and clean than if we had never been leprous, to the end that the divine majesty, as he has ordained also for us, should not be _overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good_,[ ] _that mercy_ (as a sacred oil) should keep _itself above judgment_,[ ] and _god's tender mercies be over all his works_."[ ] [footnote : book ii. chap. .] [footnote : col. i. .] [footnote : _the love of god_. book ii, c. .] [footnote : daniel iii. .] [footnote : luke xv. .] [footnote : rom. xii.] [footnote : james ii. .] [footnote : psalm cxliv. .] upon confession and communion. these two sacraments were styled by blessed francis the two poles of the christian life, because around them that life ever revolves. one purifies the soul, the other sanctifies it. he greatly admired the saying of st. bernard that all the spiritual good which we possess is derived from the frequent use of the sacraments. he would say that those who neglect the sacraments are not unlike the people in the parable, who would not accept the invitation to the marriage feast, and who thus incurred the wrath of the lord who had prepared it. some plead as their excuse that they "are not good enough"; but how are they to become good if they keep aloof from the source of all goodness? others say: "we are too weak"; but is not this the bread of the strong? others; "we are infirm"; but in this sacrament have you not the good physician himself? others: "we are not worthy"; but does not the church direct that even the holiest of men should not approach the feast without having on his lips the words: _lord! i am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof?_ to those who plead that they are overwhelmed with cares and with the business of this life, he cries: _come to me all you that labour and are burdened and i will refresh you._[ ] if any fear to come lest they should incur condemnation, are they not in yet greater danger of being condemned for keeping away? indeed, the plea of humility is as false as that of achaz, who detracted from the glory of god when he feigned to be afraid of tempting him. what better way of learning to receive him well can there be than receiving him often? is it not so with other acts which are perfected by frequent repetition? he extolled highly the precept of st. augustine on this subject. it was his desire that any person (he was speaking of the laity) free from mortal sin, and without any affection for it, should communicate confidently yet humbly every sunday,[ ] if not advised by his confessors to do so oftener. he does not say "anyone who is without venial sin," for from that who is exempt? his sentiments with regard to holy communion were most sweet and so tempered by divine love, that reverent fear was in no way prejudicial to confidence, neither was confidence to reverence. he fervently desired that we should annihilate ourselves when receiving the blessed sacrament, as our lord annihilated himself in order to communicate himself to us, bowing down the heaven of his greatness to accommodate and unite himself with our lowness. but you will be better satisfied to hear his feelings expressed in his own words. they were addressed, not directly, but through the medium of another, to a person, who from a false idea of humility dared not approach this divine mystery, and who, in the words but not in the spirit of st. peter, entreated her saviour to depart from her. "tell her," he says, "to communicate fearlessly, calmly, yet with all humility, in order to correspond with the action of that spouse who in order to unite himself with us annihilated himself and lovingly abased himself to the extent even of becoming our food and our pasturage; condescending thus to us who are the food and pasturage of worms. oh! my daughter, those who communicate according to the spirit of the heavenly bridegroom, annihilate themselves and say to our lord: feed on me, change me, annihilate me, convert me into thyself. there is nothing, i think, in the world of which we have more absolute possession, or over which we have more entire dominion, than over the food which, for our own self-preservation, we annihilate. "well, our lord has condescended to this excess of love, namely, to give himself to us for our food; and as for us, what ought not we to do in order that he may possess us, that he may feed on us, that he may make us what he pleases?" read what is said on this subject in the "devout life" and the "conferences." [footnote : matt. xi. .] [footnote : by the recent decree of pope pius x., his holiness desires that, with such dispositions, it should be daily.--[ed.]] upon confession. our blessed father thought so much of frankness, candour and ingenuousness in confession, that when he met with these virtues in his penitents he was filled with joy and satisfaction. it happened one day that he received a letter from one of his spiritual daughters telling him that she had been betrayed into the sin of malicious envy (by which she meant jealousy) of one of her sisters. he answered her letter as follows: "i tell you with truth that your letter has filled my soul with so sweet a perfume, that i can affirm that i have not for a long time read any thing so consoling. i repeat, my dear daughter, that this letter awakens in me such fresh ardour of love towards god who is so good, and towards you whom he desires to make so good, that i can only make an act of thanksgiving for this to his divine providence. thus it is, my daughter, that we must always without a moment's hesitation thrust our hands into the secret recesses of our hearts to tear out the foul growths which have sprung up there, from the mingling of our self-love with our humours, inclinations, and antipathies. oh, my god! what satisfaction for the heart of a most loving father to hear a beloved daughter protest that she has been envious and malicious! how blessed is this envy, since it is followed by so frank a confession! your hand in writing your letter made a stroke more valiant than ever did that of alexander!" upon a change of confessor. i have told you by word of mouth, and now i repeat in writing, so that you may better remember it, that the scruple of scruples is not to dare to change one's confessor. the priest who should put this scruple into your head deserves to be left, as himself scrupulous, and unsafe. virtue, like truth, is always to be found half way between two faulty extremes. to be always changing one's confessor, and never to dare to do so, or sooner to omit confession than to confess to any one but our usual confessor, are two blame-worthy extremes. in the one case we show ourselves volatile and ill-balanced; in the other we are cowardly. if you ask me which of the two is the more to be avoided i should say the second, and this because it seems to me to indicate a low tone of mind, human respect, attachment to the creature, and in general a slavish spirit which is quite contrary to the spirit of god, who only dwells there, where there is perfect liberty. st. paul tells us that being redeemed by the precious blood of jesus christ we ought not to make ourselves slaves of men. possibly, however, you would more readily submit your judgment to that of our blessed father than to mine. i remind you then how highly he thought of this holy christian liberty. you may be quite sure that he inculcated it on persons like yourself living in the world since, as i am going to show you, he made a great point of it with his religious. the holy council of trent having decreed that three or four times a year all nuns should have extra-ordinary confessors given to them to relieve them from the yoke and constraint which might ensue from being always under the direction of one and the same ordinary confessor, our blessed father decreed that every three months, in the four ember weeks the sisters of the visitation, of which order he was the founder, should have an extraordinary confessor, carefully recommending to the superiors to ask for one even oftener for any sisters who might desire or really need his help. blessed teresa[ ] was also very careful to ensure to her sisters this holy and reasonable liberty, which renders the yoke of the saviour sweet and light as it should be, and her daughters, the carmelites, still value their privilege as she did. our blessed father used, moreover, to say that religious men to whom the direction of nuns was entrusted, and all convents subject to their jurisdiction, would do well to observe the excellent rule and custom some of them have of never leaving a confessor for more than a year in a convent. he added that superiors should reserve to themselves the power of withdrawing confessors even before the time for which they were appointed had expired, and indeed whenever it may please them, and should not keep any confessor longer than the time for which he was appointed, unless for some very urgent reason or pressing necessity. to show you that it was not only to me that our blessed father expressed his opinion on this point, this is how he wrote about it to a superior of the visitation. "we ought not to be so fickle as to wish without any substantial reason to change our confessor, but, on the other hand, we should not be immovable and persistent when legitimate causes make such a change desirable, and bishops should not so tie their own hands as to be unable to effect the change when expedient, and especially when either the sisters or the spiritual father desire it." [footnote : st. teresa was not then canonised. [ed.]] upon different methods of direction. in the year our blessed father went to paris where he remained for eight or nine months. i was there at the same time, having been summoned for the advent and lent sermons. many pious persons came to consult him on their spiritual concerns, and thus gave him the opportunity of observing the variety of methods employed by god to draw souls to himself, and also the different ways in which his priests guide and direct these same souls. among others, he told me of two priests celebrated for their preaching, and who also applied themselves most zealously to the administration of the sacrament of penance. both were faithful servants of god and exemplary in the discharge of their functions, but yet so different in their methods of direction, that they almost seemed to oppose one another, though both had the one single aim in view, namely, to promote the service and the glory of god, "one of them," said the saint, "is severe and almost terrible in his preaching. he proclaims the judgments of god like the very trump of doom. in his special devotions, too, he speaks of nothing but mortifications, austerities, constant self-examination and such like exercises. thus, by the wholesome fears with which he fills the minds of his penitents, he leads them to an exact observance of god's law, and to an anxious solicitude for their own salvation. he does not harass them with scruples, and yet keeps them in a marvellous state of subjection. "the effect of his direction is that god is greatly feared and dreaded by them, that they fly from sin as from a serpent, and that they earnestly practise virtue. this divine fear is coupled with a high esteem for their director, and a friendship for him, holy indeed, but so strong and vehement that it seems to these souls as though, were they to lose their guide, they must needs go astray. "the other director leads souls to god by quite a different path. his sermons are always on the love of god. he inculcates the study of virtue rather than the hatred of vice. he makes his penitents love virtue more because it pleases god, than because it is itself worthy of love, and he makes them hate vice more because it displeases god than because of the sufferings which it brings upon those who are slaves to it. "the effect of this direction is to make souls conceive a love for god that is great, pure and disinterested; also a great affection for their neighbour for the love of god; while, as for their sentiments towards their director, they approach him with reverential awe, beholding god in him and him in god, having no affection for his person beyond that due to all our fellow-men." our blessed father never told me the name of this director, nor even gave me the slightest hint as to who he was, and i therefore sought no further explanation, contenting myself with admiring the ways of god and his various desires for the good of the souls whom he calls to his service. i became penetrated, too, with the conviction that by many different routes we can reach one and the same goal. _let every spirit praise the lord_. advice upon having a director. i asked him one day who was his director. taking from his pocket the _spiritual combat_, he said: "you see my director in this book, which, from my earliest youth, has, with the help of god, taught me and been my master in spiritual matters and in the interior life. when i was a student at padua, a theatine father instructed and gave me advice from it, and following its directions all has been well with me. it was written by a very holy member of that celebrated congregation, the author concealing his own name under that of his orders which makes use of the book almost in the same way as the jesuits make use of the exercises of st. ignatius loyola." i reminded him that in his philothea[ ] he recommends people to have a living director. "that is true," he answered, "but have you not noticed that i say he must be chosen out of ten thousand?[ ] because there is scarcely one in a thousand to be found having all the qualities necessary for this office, or who, if he has them, displays them constantly and perseveringly; men being so variable that they never remain in one state, as holy scripture assures us."[ ] i asked him if we must then run uncertainly and pursue our way without guidance. he answered: "we must seek it among the dead; among those who are no longer subject to passion or change, and who have ceased to be swayed by human interests. as an emperor of old said that his most faithful counsellors were the dead, meaning books, so we may say that our safest spiritual directors are books of piety." "but what," i asked, "are those who cannot read to do?" "they," he replied, "must have good books read to them by people in whom they can have absolute confidence. besides, such simple souls as these do not, as a rule, trouble themselves much about methods of devotion, or, if they do, god for the most part bestows on them such graces as to make it plain that he himself is their teacher, and that they are truly _theodidacts, or taught by god_." "must we then," i asked, "give up all spiritual guides?" "by no means," he answered, "for besides the fact that we are bound to obey the law of god coming to us through our superiors, both spiritual and temporal, we must also defer most humbly to our confessors, to whom we lay bare the secrets of our conscience. then, when we find difficulties in the books which we have chosen for our guidance, difficulties which, as we read, we cannot settle to our satisfaction, we must consult those who are well versed in mystic language, or rather, i should say, in spiritual matters, and listen humbly to their opinion. we must not, however, always consult the same man; for, besides the fact that holy scripture warns us that _there is safety where there is much counsel_,[ ] we must remember that if we always consulted the same living oracle, he would in time become superior to the dead one; that he would make himself a supplanter, a second jacob, pushing aside the book which we had chosen for our guide, and assuming dominion and mastery over both dead and living, that is, over the book and the reader who had chosen it for his direction. to prevent this encroachment, i had almost said this unfelt and imperceptibly increasing tyranny, it is well when we meet with difficulties to consult several persons, following the advice given by the holy ghost through the apostle st. paul not to make ourselves the slaves of men, having been delivered and redeemed at so great a price, even that of the precious blood of jesus christ."[ ] in answer to my remark that i very much preferred as a book _the imitation of christ_ to the _spiritual combat_, he said that they were both the works of writers truly animated by the spirit of god, that they were indeed different in many respects, but that it might be said of each of them as it is of the saints: _there was not found the like to him._[ ] he added that in such matters comparisons were always more or less odious; that beauty, however it might vary, was always beauty; that the book of _the imitation_ had in some respects great advantages over _the combat_, but that the latter had also some advantages over _the imitation_. among these he mentioned with special commendation its arrangement and that it goes deeper into things and more thoroughly to the root of the matter. he concluded by saying that we should do well to read the one and not neglect the other, for that both books were so short that to do this would not put us to much expenditure of time or trouble. he valued _the imitation_, he said, greatly for its brevity and conciseness as an aid to prayer and contemplation, but _the combat_ as a help in active and practical life. [footnote : book . c. .] [footnote : this hyperbole of st. francis is sometimes pushed to excess, it is a question, too, if m. camus always understood him rightly. [ed.]] [footnote : job xiv. .] [footnote : prov. xi. .] [footnote : cor. vii. .] [footnote : eccle. xliv. .] upon true and mistaken zeal. zeal was a virtue which blessed francis ever regarded with a certain amount of suspicion, "it is," he used to say, "generally speaking, impetuous, and although it strives to exterminate vice by reproving sinners, it is apt, if not guided by moderation and prudence, to produce most disastrous effects. "there is a zeal so bitter and fierce that it pardons nothing, exaggerates the smallest faults, and, like an unskilful physician, only makes the disease of the soul more serious. there is zeal of another kind, which is so lax and weakly tender, that it forgives everything, thinking in so doing to practise charity, which is patient and kind, seeks not her own, and bears all wrongs done to her even joyfully; but such zeal, too, is quite mistaken, for true charity cannot endure without grief any wrong done to god, that is to say, anything contrary to his honour and glory. "true zeal must be accompanied by knowledge and judgment. it pardons certain things, or, at least, winks at them, until the right time and place are come for correcting them; it reproves others when it sees there is hope of amendment, leaving no stone unturned when it thinks there is a possibility of preserving or advancing the glory of god. "it is certain that zeal tempered with gentleness is far more efficacious than that which is turbulent and boisterous. this is why the prophet, wishing to demonstrate the power of the messiah to bring the whole universe under the sweet yoke of obedience to him, does not speak of him as the lion of the tribe of juda, but as the lamb, the ruler of the earth. the psalmist says the very same thing in a few words: _mildness is come upon us, and we shall be corrected._" i was complaining one day to our saint of injuries which i had suffered through the mistaken zeal of some persons of eminent virtue, and he replied thus: "do you not know that the best honey is made by the bees which have the sharpest sting?" it is true, indeed, that nothing hurts us so much as wrong done by those on whose support we reckoned, as david knew well when he said: "_for if my enemy had reviled me, i would verily have borne with it, and if he that hated me had spoken great things against me, i would perhaps have hidden myself from him, but thou, a man of one mind, my guide, and my familiar--who together didst take sweet meats with me: in the house of god we walked with consent._"[ ] "consider," the saint went on to say, "by whom jesus christ was betrayed." listen to the words spoken by him through the mouth of his prophet, spoken moreover of his most sacred wounds, "_with these i was wounded in the house of them that loved me._"[ ] and, after all, is not hope always at the bottom of pandora's box? virtuous people carried away by this mistaken zeal, will, directly their eyes are opened, only too gladly recognise the truth, and will love you more than ever. pray to god to enlighten them and to deliver you from the attacks of calumny. and if the worst comes to the worst, is it not the duty of a true christian to bless those who curse him, to pray for those who persecute him, and to render good for evil, provided he really wishes to be a faithful child of the heavenly father, who makes his sun to shine, and his rain to fall, on the wicked as well as on the good.[ ] let your sighs and lamentations be breathed softly into the ear of god alone, saying to him: "_they will curse, and thou wilt bless, and they that look to thee shall not be confounded._"[ ] [footnote : psalm liv. - .] [footnote : zach. xiii. .] [footnote : matt. v. - .] [footnote : psalm cviii. .] upon the institution of the visitation order. when he instituted the congregation of the visitation of holy mary in the town of annecy, where he resided, he had no intention either of multiplying religious houses or of forming a new order or institute with vows, of which he said there were already enough in the church. his idea was to form an assembly of devout widows and maidens, free and unbound either by monastic vows or enclosure, who should, in their house, occupy themselves with prayer and manual labour, only going out for two objects, namely, to discharge their own domestic duties or to perform works of mercy done for their neighbour to the glory of god. those who embraced this mode of life practised it with such success that not only the town of annecy, but all the country round felt the influence of their holy life, and was greatly edified by their example; while the sick and poor, whom they visited in their distress, were both consoled and relieved by them. later on, these holy women formed a little settlement at lyons, but not to the satisfaction of the then archbishop, afterwards cardinal, de marquemont. this prelate, although a person of much excellence, having lived the greater part of his life in rome, where he was auditor to the rota, was so thoroughly imbued with all the italian maxims as to the management of women that he could not endure their living thus without vows or enclosure. he therefore not only advised, but even urged our blessed father to insist upon their choosing some one of the monastic rules approved by the church, and upon their taking perpetual vows, and preserving an inviolable enclosure. our blessed father, who was extremely pliable, condescending, and ready to yield to the will of others, allowed himself to be persuaded by this great prelate. the archbishop then promised that he would submit to the approbation of rome the constitutions which the holy bishop had prepared for the guidance of this simple community, provided that they were in accordance with the rule of st. augustine. our blessed father also induced his dear daughters to lay aside their original manner of life in order to embrace this second, which took the shape of an order properly so called, having perpetual vows. since this change he has often told me that the congregation owed its establishment simply to the providence and ordering of god, whose spirit breathes where he wills, and who effects changes with his own right hand when it pleases him; and whose own perfection it is which makes his works admirable in our eyes. "as for me," he once said to me, "i am filled with astonishment when i reflect that, alone and unaided, but with extraordinary calmness of mind, i have done what i wished to undo, and undone what i wished to do." "what do you mean by that?" i asked. and he replied: "i never thought for a moment of forming a religious order, being of opinion that their number is already amply sufficient. no, i only intended to gather together a little company of maidens and widows without solemn vows and without enclosure, having no wealth, but that of holy charity, which is indeed all silk and gold, and is the great bond which unites all christians, the true bond of all perfection, the bond of the spirit of god, the spirit of holy and absolute liberty." he went on to say that their occupation had hitherto been, as i have already told you, prayer, manual labour, and visiting the sick and destitute. "i fear," he added, "that there will be quite an uproar in the little town when, under the new system, their vows and enclosure oblige them to abandon their works of mercy. indeed, i gave their order the title of the visitation of holy mary that they might take for their pattern in their visits to the sick, that visit which the blessed virgin paid to her cousin st. elizabeth, with whom she dwelt for three months, to help her and to wait upon her. now that they are enclosed, they will be rather visited than visitors; but since the holy providence of god so orders it, may that providence be for ever blessed." all that i have just told you is clearly expressed in the letter written by him on the subject of the change to cardinal bellarmine, which can be seen in the volume of his letters. in remembrance, as it were, of his first design, he expresses his desire to obtain from the holy see, through the intervention of the great cardinal, three privileges for this institution. the first, that it should only be obliged to recite the office of the blessed virgin. the second, that widows should be allowed to be received and to live there, wearing their secular dress, without taking any vows, and with power to come out if at any time the necessity of their affairs should oblige them to do so. the third, that even married women should be allowed to enter, and to remain for a short time with the permission of their husbands and of the spiritual father, without being either benefactresses or foundresses. the letter justifies all this, and is full of beautiful and sensible reasons for it. i know also that during his lifetime, when the twelve first houses of the order were established, he saw that in them all those rules were carried out. i cannot here refrain from quoting for you a passage from cardinal bellarmine's reply to the letter written to him by our blessed father on this subject. it shows very plainly how highly that good and learned prelate approved of the first design for the constitution of this order, and how little he favoured the change of plan, which has, nevertheless, we must admit, redounded greatly to the glory of god and to the edification of the whole church. the cardinal says in this letter: "i will give you the same advice as i should take for myself were i in similar circumstances. i should then keep these maidens and widows exactly as they are at present, not making any change in a state of things which is so admirable. for, before the time of boniface viii. there were consecrated persons in the church, the eastern as well as the western, mentioned by the fathers. among the latins, st. cyprian, st. ambrose, st. jerome, and st. augustine; among the greeks, st. athanasius, st. chrysostom, st. basil, and many others; but they were not enclosed in their convents in such a manner that they could not come out of them when, necessary. and your most reverend lordship is aware that simple vows are no less binding and are of no less merit in the sight of god than solemn ones. indeed, the solemnizing of vows, as well as the rule of enclosure, was originated by an ecclesiastical decree of the said boniface viii. even at the present day, the convent of noble ladies, founded by st. frances of rome, nourishes in that city, although without any enclosure or solemn profession. therefore, if in your country maidens and widows live in so holy a manner, without being either cloistered or enclosed, and are able thus to be of use to those in the world, i do not see why their mode of living should be changed." what our blessed father dreaded for the institute was what happens to those institutes which fail in exactitude of observance. and he often quoted saint bernard's saying that though devotion had given birth to riches, these unnatural daughters had stifled their mother. whenever he heard of any house established in his time beginning to complain of want of comforts or conveniences he would say: "one day they will have only too many." all his letters are full of exhortations to put up with discomforts, and to lean upon providence, casting all care upon god, who feeds the young ravens, satisfies the hunger of all flesh, and fills every living creature with blessings. wealth, not poverty, was what he feared for his order. this is what he says in the constitutions: "for the more perfect observance of the holy virtue of poverty, when once the buildings of the convents are finished, the revenues shall be limited according to the place where each convent is situated, to the end that even in this a proper mean may be kept, and that there be no superfluity of goods in the community, but only a fair sufficiency, and when this is once attained nothing further shall be taken for the reception of the sisters coming to it, but what shall be requisite to keep up and maintain well the just competency of the convent."[ ] and in the letter which he wrote to the most serene infanta, margaret of sovoy, dowager duchess of mantua, to invite her to take this congregation under her protection, he says: "this congregation does not solicit alms, but is established in such a manner that the ladies who enter it give a dowry in order to maintain the buildings, the sacristy, the chaplain, and to defray the expenses of illness, etc., either by means of a regular and perpetual income, or by some other way which cannot injure anyone or interfere in any possible manner with the payment of the taxes and subsidies due to his most serene highness the duke. i hope also that the above-mentioned congregation will in a few years' time be endowed with revenues sufficient for the support of the community, thus widows without children, and young girls who desire to serve god in chastity, obedience, and poverty, will have every facility for entering it, since they will be received without any other payment than that of a dowry or pension provided by their family for their support." [footnote : constitution .] his defence of his new congregation of the visitation. on one occasion, some one speaking to him, my sisters, of your "congregation," said: "but what do you mean to do with all this crowd of women and maidens? of what use will they be to the church of god? are there not already enough of such institutions into which these applicants might be drafted? would you not be doing better if you were to establish some college for the training and education of priests, and spend your time on them instead of on these persons to whom one must repeat a thing a hundred times before they can retain it? and then, after all, if they do, it is a treasure buried, a candlestick under a bushel. is it not a case of painting on water and sowing on sand?" our blessed father, smiling graciously, answered with his extraordinary serenity and sweetness: "it is not for me to work with costly materials; goldsmiths handle the precious metals, potters only clay. believe me, god is a skilled workman; with poor tools he can accomplish wonderful work. he is wont to choose weak things to confound the strong; ignorance to confound knowledge, and that which is nothing to confound that which seems to be something. what did he not do with a rod in the hand of moses? with the jaw-bone of an ass in that of samson? with what did he vanquish holofernes? was it not by the hand of a woman? when he willed to create the world, out of what did he form it, save nothingness? believe me, great fires are often kindled from small sparks. where was the sacred fire found when the jews returned from their captivity among the medes? in a little mud! "this weaker sex is deserving of being treated with great tenderness; we must take much more care of it than we do of the stronger one. st. bernard says that the charge of souls is for the weak far more than for the strong. our lord never refused his assistance to women. he was generally followed by several of them, and they did not forsake him on the cross, where he was abandoned by all his disciples excepting his beloved john. the church who gives the title of devout to this sex does not hold it in such low estimation as you do. "besides, do you reckon as nothing the good example which they may set wherever god calls them? is it unimportant in your opinion to be a sweet odour in jesus christ, an odour of life eternal? of the two requisites for a good pastor, precept and example, which think you is the most estimable? for my part i think more of an ounce of example than of a hundred pounds' weight of precept. without a good life doctrine turns into scandal; it is like a church bell, it calls others, but itself never goes in; hence the reproach: _physician, heal thyself_. "even if holy women only served as perfumes for the church they would not be useless. a great deal of incense is employed by her in her ceremonies! "it is true that there are, as you say, a great many other congregations already in the church, into which some of those who are enrolled in this new one might enter; but there are, besides, many in the visitation who, on account of their age or infirmities, or because of their feebleness of constitution, though they be young, are quite incapable of enduring the bodily austerities imposed by other orders, and therefore cannot be admitted into them. if we receive into this one some who are strong and healthy, it is that they may wait upon the weak and delicate, for whom this congregation has chiefly been instituted, and to put in practice that holy command: _bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of christ._[ ] "as for your exhortation to me to think about forming a congregation of priests, do you not see that that is already planned by m. de berulle, a great and faithful servant of god, who has far more capacity for the work, and much more leisure also, than i can get? remember how heavily burdened i am with the charge of a diocese, in which is situated such a place as geneva, the very fountain-head of the errors which are troubling the whole church. in conclusion, let us leave great designs to great workmen. god will do what he pleases with my little plan." [footnote : gal. vi. .] upon the odour of sanctity. our blessed father held in the very highest esteem the odour of sanctity, and revered those who by their good example shed it abroad through the world, not for their own glory, but for the glory of god. on another occasion when some morose and captious person was finding fault with the visitation order, and after taking exception to it because of its newness, wound up by saying to blessed francis, "and then of what use will it be to the church?" the holy prelate answered pleasantly: "to play the part of the queen of sheba." "and what part is that?" returned the man, "to render homage to him who is greater than solomon, and to fill the whole militant jerusalem with perfumes and sweet odours." in one of his conferences he expresses the same thought as follows: "in my opinion the divine majesty has made choice of you to go forth as perfume-bearers, seeing that he has commissioned you to go and scatter far and wide the sweet odours of the virtues of your institute. and as young maidens love sweet odours (for the bride in the canticle of canticles says that the name of her beloved is _as oil_, or balm, shedding on all sides the sweetest perfumes, and _therefore_, she adds, the _young maidens_ have followed him, attracted by his divine perfumes), so do you, my dear sisters, as perfume-bearers of the divine goodness, go forth, shedding all around the incomparable sweetness of sincere humility, gentleness, and charity, so that many young maidens may be attracted thereby, and may embrace your manner of life, and that they may even in this world enjoy, like you, a holy loving peace and tranquillity of soul, and in the world to come eternal happiness." he rebukes pharisaism. on one occasion when the sisters of the visitation had made a foundation in a city famous for the piety of its inhabitants and in which there were already a number of religious houses highly esteemed for external austerities and severe discipline, they met with much criticism and even harsh treatment on account of their own gentler and apparently easier rule. in the end, they made known to blessed francis what they had to put up with. i ought, perhaps, to say that, among other ill-natured remarks, they had been reproached with having strewn a path of roses to lead them to heaven, and with having brought our saviour down from the cross; meaning that they did not practise many corporal austerities. those who said this quite forgot the fact that this order of the visitation was founded for the reception and consolation largely of women, whether young or old, weak in bodily health, though strong and healthy in mind, whose feeble frames could not support the external rigour demanded by other communities. our blessed father, as i told you, having heard from letters addressed to him by the superior, of the harsh treatment and sufferings of his poor daughters, wrote to her several times on the subject. the following words of his are especially remarkable for their beauty: "beware, my daughter, of replying in any way whatever to these good sisters, or to their friends in the world, unless, indeed, you do so with unalterable humility, gentleness, and sweetness. do not defend yourselves,[ ] for such is the express command of the holy ghost. if they despise your order because it appears to them inferior to theirs, they violate the law of charity, which does not permit the strong to despise the weak, or the great the small. granted that they are superior to you, do the seraphim despise the little angels, or the great saints in paradise, those of inferior, nay, of the lowest rank? oh, my dear daughter, whoever loves god the most will be the most loved by him, and will be the most glorious up in heaven. do not distress yourself, the prize is awarded to those who love." [footnote : rom. xii. .] upon religious superiors. speaking of superiors, i may tell you that blessed francis divided them into four classes. "first," he said, "there are those who are very indulgent to others, and also to themselves. secondly, there are those who are severe to others, and equally so to themselves. thirdly, there are some who are indulgent to their subordinates and rigid to themselves. fourthly, there are those who are indulgent to themselves and rigorous to others." he condemned the first as careless and criminal persons, heedless of their duties: they abandon the ship they should pilot, to the mercy of the waves. a superior of the second kind often spoils everything precisely because he wishes to do too much, and falls into those exaggerations which have lent truth to the saying, "absolute right is absolute injustice." "he who would rule well," runs an ancient aphorism, "must rule with a slack hand." we must not hold our horse's bridle over tightly, for though we may save him from stumbling we hinder him even from walking. superiors of the third class are better because they put a kindly construction upon the faults and infirmities of others less known to them, as they necessarily are, than their own. this is the reason why they are severe to themselves and indulgent to others--a line of conduct which generally meets with the approval of their subjects. the latter are the more edified because they see their superiors observing those very laws from which they have dispensed them. it is just so with the laity: they are mostly more anxious about the morals of their clergy than they are about their own. superiors of the fourth and last kind are truly unfaithful servants. they resemble those pharisees who _laid on the shoulders of other men heavy burdens which_ they themselves would not touch with the tip of their finger. our blessed father wished that all these four classes could be merged in a fifth, that of which the watchword should be holy equality according to that precept both of nature and of the gospel: "do to others as you would be done by; treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself, and treat yourself as you know you ought to be treated." in fact, since each man is to himself his nearest neighbour, we all recognise the injustice of demanding in the life of others what we do not practise in our own. to command others to do what we do not ourselves do is to be like urias, who carried his own condemnation and death-warrant in his bosom. one day, in his presence, i was praising a certain superior for his extreme goodness, gentleness, patience, and condescension, which attracted all hearts to him, just as flies are attracted to a honeycomb. he answered, "goodness is not good when it puts up with evil; on the contrary, it is bad when it allows evils to go on which it can, and should, prevent. gentleness in such a case is not gentleness, but weakness and cowardice. patience in such a case is not patience, but absolute stupidity. "when we suffer evil which we could prevent, we do not merely tolerate but become accomplices in wrong-doing. i am of opinion that subjects are made good by bad, i mean, by harsh and disagreeable superiors. the severity of a mother is more wholesome for a child than the petting of an indulgent nurse, and the firmness of a father is always more useful to his children than their mother's tenderness. the rougher the file the better it smoothes the iron, and the more rust it rubs off; the hotter the iron, the better the surface it gives to the cloth." he related with regard to this subject an anecdote which will both please and profit you. the head of a certain religious order, which was at the time undergoing a vigorous reform, had, with the consent of the provincial chapter, established a novitiate house which was to serve as the one only seminary for the whole province. it was decided that no novice should be clothed until he had been examined by three fathers of the order appointed for that purpose. the first was to enquire into the birth and condition of those who presented themselves for examination, the second into their literary capacity, and the third into their manner of life and vocation. this last, in order to get a firm grip on the pulse of the postulants, and to sound their vocation to the very quick almost always asked them if they would have courage and patience enough to put up with bad superiors, bad in the extreme, cruel, rude, peevish, choleric, melancholy, captious, pitiless, those, in a word, whom they would find it impossible to please or satisfy. some, evading the question, replied that there could be none such in the order, or, at least, would not be suffered to remain in office, seeing that it was governed with so much gentleness and benignity, and that its yoke was so sweet and desirable. the examiner, who did not like evasive and ambiguous replies of this sort, determined to get an answer that should be straight-forward and to the point. taking a much sterner tone, he represented a superior to them as a sort of slave-driver: a man who would govern his subjects by blows and stripes, and who yet would expect them to drink this chalice of bitterness as if offered to their lips by the hand of god. some of the postulants fearing the test, became pale or crimson with agitation, and either answered nothing, showing by their silence that they could not swallow the pill, or, if they answered at all, declared that they could not believe he was speaking seriously, and that they were not galley-slaves. these he dismissed at once as unfit to be received into the order. others, however, full of courage and constancy, still answered, that they were prepared for any ill-treatment, and that nothing could deter them from carrying out their god-inspiring resolution. that no creature, however cruel and however unfeeling, could separate them from the love of jesus christ, nor from his service. these the examining father received with open arms into the bosom of the order. you may judge from this how skilful was this master of novices in hewing, hammering, and cutting the stones he was endeavouring to fit for the spiritual edifice of the order. our blessed father himself, in spite of all the sweetness and gentleness of his natural disposition, did not fail to follow this plan to a certain extent, representing to all who came to him, desiring to enter into religion, the interior and spiritual crosses which they must resolve to carry all their life long, not the least heavy of which, and at the same time not the least useful in helping them to make great advance in perfection would perhaps be the severity of superiors. upon unlearned superiors. a certain community having had their superior taken from them on account of their complaints of the severity of his rule, and having a new one set over them in his place, came to blessed francis to pour out their grievances on the subject of their recently appointed head. they declared that he was an ignorant man. "what is to be done with you?" cried our blessed father, "you remind me of the frogs to whom jupiter could not give a king who was to their taste. we ought certainly to wish to have good and capable superiors, but still whatever they may be we must put up with them." one of the complainers was so wanting in discretion as to say that their one-eyed horse had been changed into a blind one. blessed francis suffered this jest to pass, merely frowning slightly, but his modest silence only unchained the tongue of another scoffer who presumed to say that an ass had been given to them instead of a horse. then blessed francis spoke, and, rebuking this last speech, added in a tone of gentle remonstrance, that the first remark, though far from being respectful, was more endurable because it was a proverb and implied that a superior had been given to them who was less capable than his predecessor, and that this was expressed in figurative terms, as david speaks of himself in relation to almighty god in one of the psalms when he says: _i am become as a beast before thee._[ ] "the second sarcasm, however," he added, "has nothing figurative in it, and is absolutely and grossly insulting. we must never speak of our superiors in such a manner, however worthless they may be. remember that god would have us obey even the vicious and froward,[ ] and he that _resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of god_." then taking up the defence of this much-abused superior, "do you imagine," he said, "that it is not within the power of god to exalt in a moment one who is poor in spirit by bestowing on him the gift of intelligence? is not he the god of knowledge? is it not he who imparts it to men? are not all the faithful taught of god? "the science of the saints is the science of salvation, and this is a knowledge more frequently given to those who are destitute of the knowledge which puffs up. in what condition think you was saul when god raised him to the throne of israel? "he was keeping his father's asses. on what did jesus christ ride triumphant on palm sunday? was it not upon an ass?" again, in his eleventh conference, he says: "if balaam was well instructed by an ass, we may with greater reason believe that god, who gave you this superior, will enable him to teach you according to his will, though it may not be according to your own." he wound up his remarks on the subject of the new superior by saying: "i understand that this good man is most gentle and kind, and that if he does not know much he does none the less well, so that his example makes up for any deficiency in his teaching. it is far better to have a superior who does the good which he fails in teaching, than one who tells us what we ought to do, but does not himself practise it." [footnote : peter ii. .] [footnote : rom. xiii. .] upon the founding of convents. you know, my sisters, with what circumspection and prudence our blessed father moved in the matter of foundations. during the last thirteen years of his life, in which he established your congregation, he only accepted twelve convents and refused three times as many, saying, as was his wont, "few and good." he was always very particular about the superiors to whom he committed the charge of monastic houses, knowing the immense importance of such choice and its influence upon all the members of a religious family. he was fond of comparing a convent to a beehive, and in one of his conferences applies this comparison to your own order as follows:--"your congregation," he says, "is like a bee-hive which has already sent forth various swarms: but with this difference, that when bees go forth to settle in another hive and to begin a new household each swarm chooses a particular queen under whom they live and dwell apart. "you, my dear souls, though you may go into a new hive, that is, begin a new house of your order, have always only one and the same king, our crucified lord, under whose authority you will live secure and safe wherever you may be. do not fear that anything will be wanting to you, for, as long as you do not choose any other king he will ever be with you; only take great care to grow in love and fidelity to his divine goodness, keeping as close to him as possible. thus all will be well with you. learn from him all that you will have to do; do nothing without his counsel, for he is the faithful friend who will guide you and govern you and take care of you, as with all my heart i beseech him to do."[ ] very often i urged him to consent to certain foundations which it was proposed to make, but he always gave me some good reason for refusing. it was not without trouble and difficulty that we obtained a little colony for belley. he often said to me: "the sisters are as yet but novices in piety, they must be left to grow a little stronger; have patience, for we shall be doing quite enough if the little we do is what pleases our divine master. it is better for them to grow at the roots by virtue rather than in the branches by forming new houses. will they, do you think, be more perfect because they have more convents?" [footnote : conf. .] upon receiving the infirm into communities. regarding the reception of the infirm, he might have exclaimed with st. paul: _who is weak and i am not weak_? blessed francis shared largely in this spirit, so much did he love the infirm, whether of body or of mind. he loved the poor in spirit; poor, that is, whether in earthly goods or in the wisdom of the world, and he used to say that their simplicity was a soil suitable for the planting of all sorts of virtues, that it would yield much fruit in due season. he was of opinion that during the year of novitiate established in all communities preparatory to the embracing of religious life, too much attention was paid to the consideration of infirmities, both spiritual and corporal, just as if convents were not in reality so many hospitals for healing the diseases of body and mind. hence, he added, came the name of _therapeutes_, that is, curers, healers, or operators, formerly given to monks. it is true that there are certain bodily diseases which from the fact of their being infectious necessitate the separation of such as are afflicted with them from the healthy. so also there are spiritual maladies, such as incompatibility of temper and incorrigibility of defects, which may make it proper to refuse those who are thus disqualified for entering religion, just as in former days, persons suffering from these disabilities could be dismissed even after profession. in one of his letters he thus expresses his feeling for the infirm: "i am," he says, "a great partisan of the infirm and am always afraid lest the inconveniences to which they must naturally put the community should excite a spirit of human prudence in our convents and banish the spirit of charity in which our congregation was founded, and which is our safest guide in selecting our sisters. i take, then, the side of your infirm applicant, and provided that she be humble and ready to recognise and appreciate your charity, you must receive the poor girl; it will be a constant opportunity for the sisters to practise the holy virtue of loving-kindness." upon self-pity. gentle and compassionate as his disposition was, full of tenderness, and sympathy for the feeble and the frail, blessed francis was nevertheless strict and severe in his dealings with those whom he knew to be too lenient to themselves, either in temporal or spiritual matters. he who practised so much severity in his own case, assuredly had the right to advise others to do as much, and especially, like him, to refrain from complaining at the inconveniences and sufferings endured in time of sickness. he succeeded in inspiring his daughters of the visitation with his spirit, teaching them that true christian patience, which is neither apathy nor insensibility, nor the dull stupid endurance of the stoics; but a sweet and reasonable submission to the will of god, coupled with cheerful obedience to the physician whom he commands us to honour, and a grateful acceptance of the remedies prescribed for us. upon the government of nuns by religious men. it was never his opinion that nuns should be under the jurisdiction and guidance of other religious, especially of those of their own order. for this he alleged several very weighty reasons, which i have been careful to bear in mind that i may impart them to you at the right time and place. for the present, however, i will content myself with reading you one of his letters, and with afterwards making a little comment upon it. "i observe," he says, "that many influential people are inclined to think that religious houses should be under the authority of the ordinaries, according to the old rule revived lately throughout almost the whole of italy; whilst others would have them to be under superiors of their own order, conformably to a custom introduced about four or five hundred years ago, and almost universally observed in france. for my own part, i confess that i cannot bring myself to adopt the view of those who desire that convents of women should be placed under the guidance of religious men, still less of the fathers of their own order. and in this i feel that i am of the same mind as the holy see, which always, where it can be reasonably brought about, opposes itself to the government of nuns by regulars. "i do not say that such government is not sometimes advantageous, even at the present day, but i do say that it would be far better if in general it were done away with. and this for many reasons. "it seems to me that it is no more difficult for the pope to exempt the nuns of any order from the jurisdiction of the fathers of that same order, than it is for him to exempt monasteries from the jurisdiction of their ordinary, a procedure inspired no doubt by the most excellent motives, and that has been carried out successfully for so many centuries. "the pope has, as a matter of fact, kept our own nuns in france under the rule of the bishops, and it appears to me that these same good nuns do not know what is good for them when they seek to be transferred to the jurisdiction of a religious order, seeing that regular superiors are apt to be a little rigorous in the exercise of their authority, and to deprive those under them of holy liberty of spirit." i would call your attention to the fact mentioned by our blessed father that almost everywhere in italy the nuns are under the guidance and jurisdiction of the bishops. of this i was myself an eye-witness, and i noticed at florence, that out of fifty convents, only four are not under the jurisdiction and direction of the archbishop. i would also remind you that the holy apostolic see has, as far as possible, and for many reasons, revived this ancient form of government of nuns. that these reasons exist it is well to bear in mind, though it may not always be prudent to urge them in public. again, if in former times it was thought advisable to exempt nuns from the guidance and jurisdiction of their ordinaries, or diocesan pastors, at the present day there are far more weighty reasons for replacing them under the authority of the bishops, and for taking from the regulars this exceptional jurisdiction. this is exactly what our blessed father thought about the matter. remember then always that to put convents under the bishops is to bring things back to their first and purest state, for as regards exemption we can assuredly say that _from the beginning it was not so_. it seems, too, to me, that nuns who desire the guidance of monks, especially of fathers of their own order, are true daughters of zebedee; they know not what they ask, nor what they want, nor what they are doing. that we must not be wedded to our own plans. our blessed father used to praise very highly the conduct of blessed john of avila as having been prompted by great strength of mind, and extraordinary forgetfulness of self in that his zeal made him not only love his neighbour as himself but even more than himself. i will give you an instance of this in francis' own words, addressed to theotimus: "the blessed ignatius of loyola, having with such pains set up the company of jesus, which he saw produced many fair fruits, and foresaw many more that would ripen in time to come, had, nevertheless, the nobleness of soul to resolve that, though he should see it dissolved (which would be the bitterest pain which could befall him) within half an hour afterwards, he would be stayed and tranquil in the will of god. john of avila, that holy and learned preacher of andalusia, having a design to form a company of reformed priests for the advancement of god's glory, and having already made good progress in the matter, as soon as he saw the jesuits in the field, thinking they were enough for that time, immediately, with incomparable meekness and humility, renounced his own undertaking. oh, how blessed are such souls, bold and strong in the undertakings god proposes to them, and withal tractable and facile in giving them up when god so disposes. it is a mark of a most perfect indifference to leave off doing a good work when god pleases, and to return, our journey half accomplished when god's will, which is our guide, so ordains."[ ] i may tell you, my sisters, that you have only to change the name of john of avila into that of the blessed francis de sales, and you can apply to an event in his life these very words. i know that he had in his mind a scheme of forming a congregation of priests, not bound by monastic vows, something on the pattern of your order of the visitation in its beginning; but, of course, conformable to the calling of the priesthood. hearing, however, that pierre de berulle, that faithful servant of god, afterwards a cardinal, had established the congregation of the french oratory, now so greatly distinguished for its piety and learning, he abandoned his enterprise, rejoicing that god should have given this holy commission to one less busy than himself, and therefore more capable of ordering all things in this holy society, and thus promoting the glory of god. i have said, that he meant to take the visitation as a model of this projected congregation of priests, intending them to develop, and to prosper side by side. i must add, however, that even before the formation of your congregation he had made an attempt in the same direction by drawing together a little company of hermits on the gloomy but holy mountain of notre dame de voiron, and preparing for them laws and constitutions in the observance of which they have lived with great sanctity ever since. you know also that his zeal was so condescending in its nature, and that he was so little wedded to his own opinions, that, though the visitation had flourished for four or five years with great edification to others as well as to itself, yet as soon as his grace the archbishop of lyons, afterwards cardinal de marquemont, had represented to him that it would better for it to be re-constructed with vows and enclosures like other orders, he consented to change its whole constitution. speaking of great works undertaken for the glory of god, which, owing to the illness or death of their founder or head, sometimes seem in danger of falling to the ground, blessed francis said: "there are some undertakings which god wishes to be begun indeed by us, but completed by others. thus david gathered together materials for the temple which his son solomon built, st. francis, st. dominic, st. ignatius loyola, sighed for the grace of martyrdom, and sought for it by all possible means; yet god would not crown them with it, contenting himself with the offering of their will. "to submit ourselves simply and cheerfully to the will of god in the failure of undertakings which concern his glory is an act of no small resignation." [footnote : book ix. chap. .] his views regarding ecclesiastical dignities. it is certain that two great pontiffs, clement viii. and paul v., held blessed francis in the highest possible esteem. paul v. more than once when speaking to me dwelt upon his merit, and said how suitable and indeed how necessary such a bishop was for a diocese like that of geneva. we know, too, that the same pope often thought of raising him to the dignity of cardinal. our blessed father was himself well aware of this, and mentioned it in letters written to his confidential friends, some of which have since been published. it is probable that the fact that this honour was never conferred upon him was owing to the political difficulties which beset the supreme pontiff in these matters. puzzled at his not receiving the hat, i one day expressed to him my great surprise at the delay. "why," he answered, "can you really think this dignity would in any way conduce to my serving our lord and his church better than i can now do? would rome, which would be the place of my residence, afford me more opportunities for so doing, than this post in which god has placed me? should i have more work there, more enemies to fight against, more souls to direct, more cares, more pious exercises, more visits to make, or more pastoral functions to discharge?" "you would enter," i replied, "into the solicitude of all the churches; and from the direction of one particular church you would be promoted to share in the care of the universal church, becoming, as it were, the co-assessor of the holy see." "nevertheless," he replied, "you see cardinals of our own day, who when they were bishops and had dioceses were distinguished for their piety, quit their residence at rome, which is only theirs by a positive and ecclesiastical law, in order to return to their flocks among which the law of god has fixed their homes, bidding them watch over these flocks and feed and guide the souls entrusted to them." he then told me a memorable circumstance concerning the great cardinal bellarmine of saintly memory. that prelate was promoted to the dignity, unknown to himself and against his will, by clement viii. under the pontificate of paul v., who succeeded leo xi., he was promoted to the archbishopric of capua, again contrary to his own wishes, but by the desire of the pope. he bowed beneath this yoke, but not until he had remonstrated with the holy father, who, in reply, simply commanded him to take upon himself the episcopal charge. immediately after his consecration he prepared to take up his residence at capua. the pope, who desired his services at rome, sent for him, and asked him if he was quite resolved to live in his diocese. the cardinal replied that he was, because unwillingly as he had accepted this charge he had done so with the conviction that his holiness felt he could dispense with his services at rome, nor would otherwise have placed him over the diocese of capua. the pope replied that he would dispense him from residing in his diocese. "holy father," he answered, "that is not what i have been teaching in the schools all my life. i have always held that the residence of bishops in their diocese is commanded by the law of god, and that therefore they cannot be dispensed from observing it." "at least," returned the pope, "give us half the year." "and during those six months," replied bellarmine, "at whose hands will the blood of the lost sheep of my flock be required?" "then, at least, three months," pleaded the pope. the cardinal gave the same answer as he had given about the six, and, in fact, soon took his departure for capua, where he remained in uninterrupted residence for three years, in the course of which time, as a relaxation from the labours of his office, he wrote his beautiful commentary on the psalms. such was the high value set by the holy cardinal upon the residence of a bishop among his flock: and st. charles borromeo, and more recently his worthy successor, cardinal borromeo, have been as uncompromising as bellarmine was. as for our blessed father, he only valued the honours and dignities of the church and of the world in proportion as they afford means for serving god and advancing his glory. this was the golden standard with which he measured the holy city of jerusalem. his promotion to the bishopric of geneva and his refusal of the archbishopric of paris. although in the life of our blessed father his promotion to the bishopric of geneva is described at great length, yet, in my opinion, the subject has been treated very superficially, and no attempt has been made to give a full account of the matter. the truth is that the saint had all his life but one aim in regard to the following out of his holy vocation, namely, to serve god in whatever sacred office he might be called to fill. he had passed through all the various ecclesiastical offices of canon, parish priest, provost, dean of the cathedral church, preacher, confessor, and missionary, when m. de granier, at that time bishop of geneva, inspired by god, desired to make him his successor. in this, as in all other matters, our saint recognised the inspiration, and with a single eye, that saw god only, committed himself entirely to his providence. he did nothing at all either to hinder or to further the design, leaving it all to m. de granier, who obtained the consent of the duke of savoy to propose francis to his holiness. it was, however, a condition that he should at once present himself at rome to be examined in full consistory. he was therefore obliged to undertake the journey thither. this journey, as we know, is fairly well described by the writers of his life. they tell also of his success, and of the approval bestowed upon him by pope clement, who used the inspired words: _drink water out of thine own cistern, and the streams of thine own well. let thy fountains be conveyed abroad, and in the streets divide thy waters._[ ] from so excellent a vocation what but good results could be expected? a good tree cannot bear evil fruit. we know well how worthily blessed francis walked in the vocation to which he had been called, and how the light of his holy life, like the dawn of morning, shone more and more unto the perfect day. in the year , having come to paris with the princes of savoy, he remained there for eight months, during which time it is impossible to give any idea of all that he did for the glory of god and the good of souls. the eyes of all men in this great theatre were turned upon him, as were those of the romans upon cato, when one day he showed himself in their assembly. it was not only by the people of paris that he was thought so much of, but also by their pastor, the cardinal de retz (peter de gondi), a prelate of incomparable gentleness, benignity, liberality, modesty, and every other delightful quality. the sweet attractive grace of blessed francis' manners and conversation produced such an effect upon him that he at once desired to make him his coadjutor, with right of succession. not expecting any opposition from the holy bishop, and having gained the consent of the king, he thought that nothing remained to be done but to carry out the formalities prescribed by the roman congregations. francis, however, with marvellous adroitness, warded off the blow, leaving the great cardinal penetrated with admiration of his virtue if without the satisfaction of gaining his compliance. among the various reasons for this refusal which are to be found in his letters, one or two please me especially. for instance, he said that he did not think he ought to change a poor wife for a rich one; and again, that if he did ever quit his spouse it would not be to take another, but in order not to have one at all, following the apostolic counsel: _art thou bound, to a wife, seek not to be loosed. art thou loosed from a wife, seek not a wife_.[ ] it is true that honours and dignities are but trifles; yet to despise and refuse them is not a trifling thing. it is easy to disdain them from a distance, but difficult to deal with them face to face, and either to quit them when we possess them, or to refuse them when they are offered. _blessed is the rich man that is found without blemish, and that hath not gone after gold nor put his trust in money, nor in treasures. who is he? and we will praise him, for he hath done wonderful things in his life._[ ] such a one, my sisters, believe me, was your father and mine, my preserver and your founder, blessed francis de sales. [footnote : prov. v. , .] [footnote : cor. vii. .] [footnote : eccle. xxxi. , .] a bishop's care for his flock. good digestions assimilate all kinds of food, and convert it into wholesome nourishment, and so in like manner holy souls turn all that they meet with into material for instruction and into help towards their eternal profit. thus, the great st. anthony, saw the creator on every page of the book of nature and in all living creatures. the tiniest flower, growing and blossoming at his feet, raised his thoughts to him who is the flower of the field and the lily of the valley, the blossom springing from the root of jesse. those who are smitten by some passionate human love are so absolutely possessed by it that they think of nothing else, and since their tongue speaks out of the abundance of their heart this is their one subject of conversation, all others being distasteful to them. they write the name of the beloved object on rocks and trees, and wherever they can they leave behind them some carved token or emblem of their affection. just so was it with our blessed father. his delight was to make all subjects of conversation, all incidents that might occur, further in one way or another the glory of god, and kindle his divine love in the hearts of others. on one occasion, when he was visiting that part of his diocese which lies among the lofty and bleak mountains of faucigny, where it is always winter, he heard that a poor cowherd had lost his life by falling over a steep precipice while trying to save one of his herd. from this incident he drew a marvellous lesson upon the care which a bishop ought to take of the flock entrusted to his charge by god, showing that he ought to be ready to sacrifice even life itself for its salvation. he thus relates the incident, and gives his comments on it in one of his letters. "during the past few days i have seen mountains, terrible in their grandeur, covered with ice ten or twelve inches thick; and the inhabitants of the neighbouring valleys told me that a herdsman going out to try and recover a cow which had strayed away fell over a precipice from a height of thirty feet, and was found frozen to death at the bottom. oh, god! i cried, and was the ardour of this poor herdsman in his search for the beast that had strayed, so burning that even the cold of those frozen heights could not chill it? why, then, am i so slothful and lax in the quest after my wandering sheep? this thought filled my heart with grief, yet in no wise melted its frozen surface. i saw in this region many wonderful sights. the valleys were full of happy homesteads, the mountains coated with ice and snow. like the fertile and smiling valleys, the village mothers play their homely part, while a bishop, raised to such a lofty eminence in the church of god, remains ice-bound as the mountains. ah! will there never rise a sun with rays powerful enough to melt this ice which freezes me!" what zeal for souls, what humility, what holy fervour breathe in these words! on the first duty of bishops. "being a bishop," he used to say to me, "you are at the same time a superintendent, sentinel, and overseer in the house of god, for this is what the word bishop means. it is then your part to watch over and guard your whole diocese, making continual supplications, crying aloud day and night like a watchman on the walls, as the prophet bids you do, knowing that you have to render an account to the great father of the family of all the souls committed to your care. "but especially you ought to watch over two classes of people who are the heads of all the others, namely, the parish priests and the fathers of families, for they are the source of most of the good and of most of the evil which is to be found in parishes or households. "from the instruction and good example given by parish priests, who are the shepherds of the flock, proceeds all the advance of that flock in knowledge and virtue. they are like the rods of which jacob made use to give the colours he wanted to the fleeces of the lambs. teaching does much, but example does incomparably more. it is the same with fathers and mothers of families: on their words, but still more on their conduct, depends all the welfare of their households. "as bishop you are the master-builder, the superintendent. it is your duty then to watch over the leaders of your flock and over those who, like saul, are a head taller than the rest. through them healing and blessing flows down upon others, even as aaron's ointment descended from his head to the very hem of his garment. "this is why you ought continually to exhort and instruct, in season and out of season, for you are the parish priest of all parish priests, and the father of all fathers of families." upon the pastoral charge. on one occasion i was complaining to him of the difficulties which i met with in the discharge; of my episcopal duties. he replied that on entering the service of god we must prepare ourselves for temptation, since no one could follow jesus christ or be of the number of his true disciples except by bearing his cross, nor could anyone enter heaven except by the path and through the gate of suffering. "remember," he said, "that our first father even in the state of innocence was put into the earthly paradise to work in it and to keep it. do you imagine that he was banished from it in order to do nothing? consider how god condemned him and all his posterity to labour, and to till an ungrateful earth which produced of itself nothing but thorns and thistles. there is much more toil and difficulty in weeding and cultivating souls than any earthly soil, rough, stony, and barren though it may be. the art of arts is the direction of souls, it is of no use to undertake it unless we have made up our minds to innumerable labours and disappointments. "the son of god being a sign of contradiction, can we wonder if his work is exposed to the same; and if he had so much difficulty in winning souls, is it likely that his coadjutors and those who labour with him will have less?" then fearing to depress me by the enumeration of so many difficulties, he went on to cheer me with the example of the prince of pastors, the bishop of our souls, the author and finisher of our faith, who preferred shame and toil to joy, that he might further the work of oar salvation. he added that of the apostles, and other pastors of the church, reminding me that if we think much of the honour of being their successors we must, with the inheritance, accept its burdens, nor shelter ourselves by, in legal phrase, _disclaiming liability for debts beyond the assets_ inherited. otherwise, he said, we should be like that kinsman of ruth who wished to have the inheritance of the first husband, but not to marry the widow and raise up to him an heir. he generally wound up his remarks with some reminder of that love which makes all that is bitter to be sweet: sometimes quoting to me those words of st. augustine, "where we love, there is no labour, or if there is any we love the labour itself, for he who labours in loving, loves to labour for the beloved object." upon the care of souls. a priest once complained to blessed francis of the thorns besetting his path in life, of the difficulties of his holy calling, of the anxieties inseparable from it, but chiefly of the intractableness of stiff-necked christians, who refuse to submit to the easy yoke of jesus christ, and to do what their duty requires. the bishop replied that their obstinacy was not so much to be wondered at as the weakness of their pastors who were so easily discouraged and impatient, just because they saw that the seed sown by their labours did not forthwith produce the plentiful harvest they desired. "the peasant is not blamed for failing to reap an abundant harvest, but only for not carefully cultivating his field, and for not doing all that is necessary to make his land productive. discouragement is a mark of excessive love of self and of zeal unaccompanied by knowledge. "the best lesson for those who have the care of souls, is that which the apostle gives to all in the person of one: _preach the word: be instant in season and out of season: reprove, entreat, rebuke in all patience and doctrine._[ ] "in this text the word _patience_ is the key to the whole mystery, for patience has its perfect work when it is accompanied by charity, which is patient, kind, and is the virtue by which we possess our souls in peace." the charge of souls means having to bear with the weak, for the strong are able to go on by themselves in their progress towards what is good. our holy bishop explained this by two beautiful similitudes: "the plumage of birds is heavy, and yet without this load they could neither raise themselves from the ground nor hover in the air. the burden borne by holy souls is like a load of cinnamon, which, by its perfume invigorates him who carries it. so souls which are weak serve to make their pastors, who bear the burden of them, rise on wings towards heaven, and on earth to run in the way of god's commandments." the other comparison is this: "notice," he said, "a shepherd driving a flock of sheep: if one of them breaks a leg the shepherd at once takes it on his shoulders to carry it back to the fold, and this single one is certainly a heavier load than all the rest together, who go along of themselves. in like manner souls which of themselves advance in the way of god afford little occasion for their pastors to exercise care and vigilance. it is of the faulty and intractable they have chiefly to think, st. bernard says that the care of souls is not a care of the strong, but of the infirm, for if any one helps thee more than he is helped by thee, know that thou art not his father but his equal." even the prophets complain of men of obstinate and rebellious hearts. to work among them is to go down to the sea in ships and to do our business in great waters, for these waters are god's people with whom we have to deal. [footnote : tim. iv. .] upon learning and piety. by rights, the more learned a man becomes the more pious should he be. this does not, however, always happen, and if we must choose between the two, there is no doubt that it is better to be uneducated but pious, rather than to be learned without being religious-minded. blessed francis remarked one day when we were speaking of a parish priest whose holy life was highly praised, but with whose defects as a teacher great fault was found: "it is quite true that knowledge and piety are, as it were, the two eyes of a priest; still, as a man can, by dispensation, receive holy orders even though he has only one eye, so also it is quite possible for a parish priest to be a most faithful servant in his ministry by simply leading a zealous, exemplary, and well-regulated life. the function of teaching may be discharged by others, who, as st. paul says, are instructors but not fathers.[ ] but no one can be a pattern to others except by giving good example, and this cannot be done by proxy." besides, the gospel tells us that we are to pluck out the eye which offends. it is better to enter heaven with one eye, than to be cast into hell-fire with two.[ ] "there is, indeed," he continued, "a degree of ignorance so gross as to be inexcusable and to render him who is plunged into it in very truth a blind leader of the blind. when, however, a man is in good repute for his piety he surely has within him that true light which leads him to jesus christ and enables him to show light to others. it is as though he said to them, like gideon, _do as i do_, or with st. paul, _be ye followers of me, as i also am of christ_.[ ] such a one does not walk in darkness and those who follow him are sure to reach the haven. though he has not talents of learning and erudition such as would make him shine in the pulpit, yet he has enough if he can, as the apostle says, _exhort in sound doctrine and convince the gainsayers_.[ ] remark," he added, "how god taught balaam by the mouth of his ass." thus, his charity dexterously covered the defects of his neighbour, and by this lesson he taught us to value an ounce of piety more than many pounds of empty learning. [footnote : cor. iv. .] [footnote : matt. xviii. .] [footnote : cor. iv. .] [footnote : tit. i. .] advice to bishop camus as to resigning his see. when i was consulting him once as to whether or not i should follow the bent of my own inclination in the matter of retiring into a private and solitary life, he, wishing to ascertain by what spirit i was led, answered me in the beautiful words of st. augustine: _otium sanctum diligit charitas veritatis, et negotium justum suscipit veritas charitatis_.[ ] charity, the holy love of eternal truth, draws us into retirement, that we may in that calm leisure contemplate things divine; but when our hearts are filled with true charity we are none the less urged to undertake good works in order to advance the glory of god by serving our neighbour. although he esteemed mary's part--called in the gospel "the better part"--much more highly than martha's, yet it was his opinion that martha's, undertaken purely for the love of god, was more suitable to this present life, and that mary's had more in common with that of a blessed eternity. he only made an exception as regards some special and extraordinary vocations, some irresistible and most powerful attractions, acting upon the soul, and in the case of those who do not possess the talents requisite for serving as martha served, and have only those suitable for a purely contemplative life. also those who, having expended, all their physical strength in the service of the church, withdraw into solitude towards the close of their life, there to prepare for that last journey which is ordained for all flesh. for this reason he repulsed and silenced me--not indeed harshly, for his incomparable sweetness was incompatible with harshness--but firmly and decidedly whenever i spoke to him of quitting my post and of resigning the helm into the hand of some more skilful pilot. he called my desire to do so a temptation, and in the end closed the discussion so peremptorily that, during his lifetime, i never ventured to revive it with anyone. he dealt in almost exactly the same manner with that virtuous soul[ ] the corner-stone of the spiritual edifice of the congregation of the visitation which he founded, for he kept her in the world for more than seven years, bringing up and educating the children whom god had given her and affording spiritual help to her father and father-in-law. he kept her back, i say, for this long period, before permitting her to retire into the solitude of the cloister; so exact was he in himself following, and in leading those who were under his direction to follow, the holy light of faith rather than the false and lurid glimmers of their natural inclinations. on a previous occasion a certain bishop whom i knew well asked him whether in his opinion it would be allowable for him to give up his bishopric with its heavy burdens and retire into private life, bringing forward as an example st. gregory of nazianzen, surnamed the theologian, the oracle of his time, who gave up the charge of three bishoprics, sozima, nazianzen, and the patriarchate of constantinople, that he might go and end his days in rural life, on his paternal estate of arianzen. our blessed father replied that we must presume that these great saints never did anything without being moved to do it by the spirit of god, and that we must not judge of their actions by outward appearances. he added that st. gregory in quitting constantinople was only yielding to pressure and violence, as is proved by the manner in which he said his last mass in public, and which brought tears into the eyes of all who heard him. this same bishop replying that the greatness of his own charge terrified him, and that he was overpowered by the thought of having to answer for so many souls: "alas!" said blessed francis, "what would you say, or do, if you had such a burden as mine on your shoulders? and yet that must not lessen my confidence in the mercy of god." the bishop still complaining and declaring that he was like a candle which consumes itself in order to give light to others, and that he was so much taken up with the service of his neighbour that he had scarcely any leisure to think of himself and to look after the welfare of his own soul, our blessed father replied: "well, considering that the eternal welfare of your neighbour is a part, and so large a part, of your own, are you not securing the latter by attending to the former? and how, indeed, could you possibly work out your own salvation except by furthering that of others, seeing that you have been called to do so precisely in this manner?" the bishop still objecting and saying that he was like a whetstone which is worn out by the mere sharpening of blades, and that while trying to lead others to holiness he ran the risk of losing his own soul, our holy prelate rejoined: "read the history of the church and the lives of the saints, and you will find more saints among bishops than in any other order or avocation, there being no other position in the church of god which furnishes such abundant means of sanctification and perfection. for remember that the best means of making progress in perfection is the teaching others both by word and example. bishops are by their very office compelled to do this and to strive with all their heart and soul to be a pattern and model to their flocks. the whole life of a christian on earth is a warfare, and should be one unceasing progress towards the goal of perfection. were you to do as you propose it would be in a manner to look behind you, and to imitate the children of ephraim, who turned back when they should have faced the enemy. you were going on so well, who is it who is holding you back? stay in the ship in which god has placed you to make the voyage of life; the passage is so short that it is not worth while changing the boat. for, indeed, if you feel giddy in a large vessel, how much more so will you in a slight skiff tossed by every motion of the waves! a lower condition of life, though less busy and apparently more tranquil, is none the less equally subject to temptation." this reasoning so convinced the bishop[ ] that he remained faithful to his post in the army of holy church. [footnote : de civit. dei. lib. . cap .] [footnote : st. jane frances de chantal.] [footnote : this bishop was evidently m. camus himself. [ed.]] the joyous spirit of blessed francis. so light-hearted and gay was he, so truly did his happy face express the serenity and peace of his soul that it was almost impossible to remain for any time in his company without catching something of this joyous spirit. i feel sure that only those of dull and gloomy temperament can take exception to what i am going to relate in order to illustrate our blessed father's delightful gift of pleasantry in conversation. on one occasion when i was paying a visit to him at annecy two young girls, sisters, and both most virtuous and most devout, were professed in one of the convents, he performing the ceremony, and i, by his desire, giving the exhortation. while preaching, although i said nothing to my mind very heart-stirring, i noticed that a venerable priest who was present was so much affected as to attract the attention of everyone. after the ceremony, when we were breakfasting with the holy bishop, the priest being also at table, i asked blessed francis what had been the cause of such emotion. he replied that it was not to be wondered at seeing that this good priest had lost his aureola, and had been reduced from the high rank of a martyr to the lowly one of a confessor! he went on to explain that the priest had been married, but that on the death of his wife, who was a most saintly woman, he had become a priest, and that all the children of that happy marriage had been so piously brought up that every one of them had devoted himself or herself to the service of the altar, the young girls just professed being of the number. the tears shed by the priest were therefore of joy, not of sorrow, for he saw his most ardent desire fulfilled, and that his daughters were now the brides of the lamb. "but," i cried, "what did you mean by saying that a man married to such a wife as that was a martyr? that may be the case when a man has a bad wife, but it cannot be true in his case." our blessed father's manner changed at once from gaiety to seriousness. "take care," he said to me in a low voice, "that the same thing does not happen to you; i will tell you how, by-and-by, in private." when we were alone afterwards i reminded him of his promise. "take care," he said again with some severity of aspect, "lest if you yield to the temptation which is now assailing you something worse does not befall you." he was alluding to my desire to give up the burden of my bishopric and to retire into more private life. "your wife," he went on to say, meaning the church, whose ring when he consecrated me he had put on my finger, "is far more holy, far more able to make you holy than was that good man's faithful wife, whose memory is blessed. it is true that the many spiritual children whom she lays in your arms are a cause of so much anxiety that your whole life is a species of martyrdom, but remember that in this most bitter bitterness you will find peace for your soul, the peace of god which is beyond all thought or imagination. if you quit your place in order to seek repose, possibly god will permit your pretended tranquillity to be disturbed by as many vexations as the good brother leone's, who, amid all his household cares in the monastery, was often visited by heavenly consolations. of these he was deprived when, by permission extorted from his superior, he had retired into his cell in order, as he said, to give himself up more absolutely to contemplation. know (oh! how deeply these words are engraven on my memory) that god hates the peace of those whom he had destined for war. "he is the god of armies and of battles, as well as of peace, and he compares the sulamite, the peaceful soul, to an army drawn up in battle array and in that formation terrible to its enemies." i may add that our blessed father's predictions were perfectly verified, and after his death when the very things he had spoken of happened to me i remembered his words with tears. as i write i call to mind another instance of his delightful manner which you will like to hear. young as i was when consecrated a bishop, it was his desire that i should discharge all the duties of my holy office without leaving out any single one of them, although i was inclined to make one exception, that of hearing confessions. i considered myself too young for this most responsible work, and wanting in that prudence and wisdom which are born of experience. our blessed father, however, thought differently in the matter, and i, holding this judgment in so much higher esteem than my own, gave way, bent my neck under the yokes and took my place in the confessional. there i was besieged by penitents, who scarcely allowed me any time for rest or refreshment. one day, worn out with this labour, i wrote to st. francis, saying, among other things, that intending to make a confessor he had really made a martyr. in answering my letter he said that he knew well that the vehemence of my spirit suffered the pangs of a woman in travail, but then i must take courage and remember that it is written, _a woman when she is in labour hath sorrow because her hour is come; but when she hath brought forth the child she remembereth no more the anguish for joy that a man is born into the world_.[ ] [footnote : john xvi. .] upon daily mass. his advice to a young priest.[ ] to a priest whom i know well, and whom our blessed father loved much in our lord, he gave most excellent advice, and in a very kindly manner, conveyed it to him by means of an ingenious artifice. the priest was young, and owing to his extreme youth, although he was a parish priest, he dreaded saying mass often, contenting himself with doing so on sundays and holidays. our blessed father, wishing to lead him to say his mass every day, devised this plan. he presented him with a little box covered with crimson satin, embroidered in gold and silver and studded with pearls and garnets. before he actually put it into his hands, however, he said to him, "i have a favour to ask of you which i am sure you will not refuse me, since it only concerns the glory of god, which i know you have so much at heart." "i am at your command," replied the priest. "oh, no," said the bishop, "i am not speaking to you as one who commands, but as one who requests, and i make this request in the name and for the love of god, which is our common watchword." after that, what could the priest possibly refuse him? his silence testified his readiness to obey, better than any words could have done. blessed francis then opening the box showed him that it was quite full of unconsecrated hosts, and said, "you are a priest, god has called you to that vocation, and also to the pastoral office in his church. would it be the right thing if an artisan, a magistrate, or a doctor only worked at his profession one or two days in the week? you have the power to say holy mass every day. why do you not avail yourself of it? "consider that the action of saying mass is the loftiest, the most august, of all the functions of religion, the one which renders more glory to god and more solace to the living and the dead than any other. "i conjure you, then, by the glory of him in whom we live and move and have our being, to approach the altar every day, and never, except under extreme necessity, to fail to do so. "there is nothing, thank god, to prevent your doing this. i know your soul as well as a soul can be known, and of this you are yourself quite aware, you who have so frankly unfolded to me the inmost recesses of your conscience. far from seeing any impediment, i see that everything invites you to do what i ask, and that you may so use the daily and supersubstantial bread i make you this present, entreating you not to forget at the holy altar him who makes you this prayer on the part of god himself." the young priest was somewhat surprised, and without attempting to evade the implied rebuke contented himself with submitting to the judgment of the holy bishop his secret unworthiness, his youth, his unmortified passions, his fear of misusing so divine a mystery by not living as they should live who each day offer it up. "all this excusing yourself, replied our blessed father, is only so much self-accusing as would appear if i chose to examine your reasons in detail and weigh them in the scales of the sanctuary. but without entering into any discussion of them let it suffice that you refer the matter to my judgment. i tell you then, and in this i think that i have the spirit of god, that all the reasons which you bring forward to dispense yourself from so profitable an exercise of piety are really those which oblige you to practise it. this holy exercise will ripen your youth, moderate your passions, weaken your temptations, strengthen your weakness, illuminate your path, and the very act of practising it will teach you to do so with greater perfection. moreover, if the sense of your unworthiness would make you abstain from it out of humility, as happened to st. bonaventure, and if your own unfitness makes the custom of daily celebrating productive in your soul of less fruit than it should, consider that you are a public person, and that your flock and your church have need of your daily mass. more than that, you ought to be stimulated and spurred on by the thought that every day on which you refrain from celebrating you deprive the exterior glory of god of increase, the angels of their delight, and the blessed of a most special happiness." the young priest deferred to this counsel, saying "_fiat, fiat_," and from that time for a space of thirty years has never failed to say mass daily, even when on long journeys through france, italy, spain, germany, and in heretical countries. he never failed, i repeat, even under conditions which seemed to make the saying of mass impossible. such power have remonstrances when tempered with kindness and prudence. [footnote : possibly m. camus himself. [ed.]] a priest saying mass should be considerate of others. he was told that i was very lengthy in my preparation for saying holy mass, and that this was a cause of inconvenience to many who either wished to be present at it or to speak to me afterwards. i was accustomed, by his orders, to say daily mass at a fixed hour, and not in the private chapel of the bishop's house, unless i happened to be ill, but in a large chapel adjoining the cathedral church, where synods, ordinations, and similar pastoral functions were held. the bell rang for this mass always at a few minutes before the appointed hour, but those who knew the length of my preparation in the sacristy did not hurry to come to it, and those who did not know lost patience, and in winter time often got chilled to the bone. our blessed father, wishing to correct this fault in me, waited quietly till the right moment came for doing so. he was paying me one of his annual visits at belley, when it chanced that one morning he was detained very late in his room writing some letters which he had to send off without loss of time. when eleven o'clock drew near, his servants, knowing that he never failed to say mass unless hindered by illness or some real impediment, came to remind him that he had not yet done so. the altar in the private chapel had been prepared for him. he came out of his room, wearing as usual his rochet and mosetta, and after saluting those who had come to see him and to hear his mass, said a short prayer at the foot of the altar, then vested and celebrated the holy sacrifice. mass ended, he knelt down again, and, after another short prayer, joined us with a face of angelic serenity. having greeted each of us affectionately, he entered into conversation with us, until we were called, as we soon were, to table. i, who watched his actions most closely and ever found them regular and harmonious as a stave of music, was amazed at the brevity of this preparation and thanksgiving. in the evening, therefore, when we were alone together, i said, using the filial privilege which i knew was mine, "father, it seemed to me this morning that your preparation for mass and your thanksgiving were very hasty and short." he turned suddenly, and, embracing me, exclaimed, "oh, how delighted i am that you are so straightforward in telling me home truths! for three or four days i have been wanting to do the same thing to you, but did not know how to begin! now, tell me what do you say as to that lengthiness of yours which inconveniences everybody? all complain, and quite openly, though possibly these complaints have not yet reached your ears, so few dare speak the truth to bishops. doubtless it is because no one loves you as i do that i have been asked to speak about this. my commission is quite authentic, though i do not show you the signatures. a little of your superfluity handed over to me would do us both good, by making you go more quickly and, me more slowly. "do you think," he continued, "that the people who are so anxious to assist at your mass have any sympathy with your long preparation before-hand in the sacristy? still less those who are waiting to speak to you after mass, with your interminable thanksgiving. "many of these people come from a distance, and have business engagements in the town." "but, father," i said, "how ought we to make our preparation? scripture says, _before prayer prepare thy soul, and be not as a man that tempteth god_.[ ] how much more, then, must we prepare with all care for the stupendous act of celebrating mass, before which, in the words of the preface, the powers of heaven tremble? how can one play on a lute without tuning it?" "why do you not make this preparation earlier, in your morning exercise, which i know, or at least i think, you never neglect?" "i rise at four o'clock in the summer, sometimes sooner," i replied, "and i do not go to the altar till about nine or ten o'clock." "and do you suppose," he returned, "that the interval from four to nine is very great to him, in _whose sight a thousand years are as yesterday?_"[ ] this passage, so well applied, was like a sudden illumination to me. "and what about the thanksgiving?" i said. "wait till your evening exercise to make it," he answered; "you make your examination of conscience, surely so great an act will have its weight; and is not thanksgiving one of the points of self-examination? both these acts can be made more at leisure and more calmly in the morning and evening: no one will be inconvenienced by them, and they will interfere with none of your ordinary duties." "but," i objected, "will it not be a cause of disedification to others to see me so quick over things? _god should not be adored hurriedly_." "we may hurry as much as we like," he replied; "god goes faster than we do. he is as the lightning which comes forth from the east and the next moment flashes in the west. all things are present to him; with him there is neither past nor future. how can we escape from his spirit?" i acquiesced, and since then all has gone well in this matter. [footnote : eccle. xviii. .] [footnote : psalm lxxxix. .] blessed francis encourages the bishop of belley. owing to the fact that the see of belley had been vacant for four years, a dispensation was obtained from the bishop enabling me, at the age of twenty-five, to be consecrated bishop, and at the same time to be put in possession of that see to which the king, henry iv., had already appointed me. blessed francis himself consecrated me, in my own cathedral church of belley, august th, . after a while scruples began to disturb my mind on account of this consecration, seemingly so premature. i had, as it were, been made a captain when i had scarcely enlisted as a soldier. i carried my troubles to the director of my conscience, this blessed father who consoled and cheered me by suggesting many excellent reasons for this unusual state of things. the necessities of the diocese, the testimony to my character of so many persons of dignity and piety, the judgment of henry the great, whose memory he held in high honour, and, last of all, and above all, the command of his holiness. he concluded by urging me not to look back, but rather to stretch forward to the things which were before me, following the advice of st. paul. "you have come to the vineyard," he went on to say, "in the first hour of your day. beware lest you labour there so slothfully, that those who enter at the eleventh hour outstrip you both in the work and in reward." one day i said jestingly to him: "father, virtuous and exemplary as you are considered to be, you have committed one fault in your life, that of having consecrated me too early." he answered me with a laugh which opened a heaven of joy to me. "it is certainly true," he said, "that i have committed that sin, but i am much afraid god will never forgive me for it, for up to the present moment i have never been able to repent of it. i conjure you by the bowels of our common master to live in such a manner that you may never give me cause for regret in this matter and rather, often to stir up in yourself the grace which was bestowed upon you from on high by the imposition of my hands. i have, you must know, been called to the consecration of other bishops, but only as assistant. i have never consecrated any one but you: you are my only one, my apprenticeship work. "take courage. god will help us. "_he is our light and our salvation, whom shall we fear? he is the protector of our life, of whom shall we be afraid?_" upon a compassionate mind. although his soul was one of the strongest and most well-balanced possible, yet it was capable of the tenderest and most compassionate feelings for the sorrows of others. he did not repine over the miseries and infirmities of human nature, he only desired that all souls should be strengthened by grace. to a lady who was heart-broken at the death of a sister whom she passionately loved, he wrote: "i will not say to you, do not weep, for, on the contrary, it is just and reasonable that you should weep a little--but only a little--my dear daughter, as a proof of the sincere affection which you bore her, following the example of our dear master, who shed a few tears over his friend lazarus, but not many, as do those whose thoughts, being bounded by the moments of this miserable life, forget that we, too, are on our way to eternity, in which if we live well in this life we shall be reunited to our beloved dead, nor ever be parted from them again. we cannot prevent our poor hearts from being affected by the changes of this life, and by the loss of those who have been our pleasant companions in it. still never must we be false to our solemn promise to unite our will inseparably to the will of god." again, let me remind you how tenderly he expresses himself on the sorrowful occasions of the death of his dearest relatives and friends. "indeed," he says, "at times like these i myself weep much. then my heart, hard as a stone with regard to heavenly things, breaks and pours forth rivers of tears. but god be praised! they are always gentle tears, and, speaking to you as to my own dear daughter, i never shed them without a loving grateful thought of the providence of god. for, since our saviour loved death and gave his death to be the object of our love, i cannot feel any bitterness, or grudge against it, whether it be that of my sisters or of anyone else, provided it be in union with the holy death of my saviour." and in another place he says: "i must say just one word in confidence to you. there is not a man living who has a heart more tender and more open to friendship than mine, or who feels more keenly than i do the pain of separation from those i love; nevertheless. i hold so cheap this poor earthly life which we lead that i never turn back to god with a more ardent affection than when he has dealt me some blow of the kind or permitted one to be dealt me." upon doing one's duty, without respect of persons. after i had preached several advents and lents in various towns of my diocese of belley, he thought it well that i should do so in my own native city, paris. well knowing, as he did, the various views and judgments of the great world which rules there, he wished to teach me to care very little what people said about me, and he impressed the lesson upon me by relating to me the following story of an aged priest and the college clock. a good father being incapacitated by infirmities even more than by age from fulfilling the duty of teaching binding on his order, and yet being anxious to have some little useful employment, was entrusted by his superior with the winding and regulating the college clock. very soon, however, he came to complain of the difficulty and almost impossibility of his work; not, he said, that it was at all beyond his strength, but that it was quite beyond him to satisfy everyone. when the clock was a little slow, he said, the young men who had difficult and troublesome work to do indoors, complained, declaring that the town clocks were much faster, and to please them he would put it on a little. as soon as this was done complaints burst forth from those whose work lay outside the college, in visiting the sick and prisoners, or providing for the needs of the household in the city. they came back declaring that the town clocks were much slower, and reproaching me for having put theirs on. the superior settled the matter by telling the good father to let the clock take its own course, but always to use soft words to those who might complain, and to assure each one of them that he would do his best to keep the clock right if possible. "so let it be with you," concluded our blessed father. "you are going to be exposed to the criticism of many; if you attend to all that they say of you, your work, like penelope's, will never be done, but every day you will have to begin it over again. "even some of your friends will in perfect good faith give you suggestions on matters which seem to them important, but which in reality are not so at all. "one will tell you that you speak too fast, another that you gesticulate too much, a third that you speak too slowly, and don't move enough--one will want quotations, another will dislike them; one will prefer doctrinal, another moral lessons; some one thing, some another. "they will be like drones who do nothing but disturb the working bees, and who, though they can sting, yet make no honey." "well! what is to be done in all this?" "why, you must always answer gently, promising to try and correct yourself of your faults whatever they may be, for there is nothing which pleases these counsellors so much as to see that their suggestions are accepted as judicious, and, at least, worthy of consideration. in the meantime go your own way, follow the best of your own character, pay no heed to such criticisms, which are often contradictory one of the other. "keep god before your eyes, abandon yourself to the guidance of the spirit of grace, and say often with the apostle, 'if i yet pleased men i should not be the servant of christ,' who said of himself that he was not of this world. neither, indeed, were his apostles, for the friendship of the world is enmity with god. "it is no small matter for a steersman in the midst of a storm to keep the rudder straight. of little consequence ought it to be to us that we are judged by men. god is our only true judge, and it is he who sees the secrets of our hearts, and all that is hidden in darkness." the honour due to virtue. honour is like thyme which the pagans thought ought only to be burnt on the altar of virtue. in ancient rome the temple of honour could only be entered through the temple of virtue. the virtue of blessed francis de sales was so generally recognized by both catholics and protestants that he may be truly said to have been universally reverenced. a remarkable instance of this occurred at grenoble, the chief town of dauphiné, in the year in which he went there to preach during advent and lent. monsieur de lesdigiuères, the king's viceroy at grenoble, and marshal of france, was not yet converted to the catholic faith. he, however, received the bishop with affectionate warmth, and paid him extraordinary honours. he frequently invited him to his table, and often visited him in his house, sometimes even being present at his sermons, for he really valued the teaching of the holy bishop, and thought most highly of his virtue. the protestants of grenoble took fright at this, more particularly because of the long, private interviews which took place between the magistrate and the holy bishop. wherever he went the king's representative spoke of blessed francis in the highest terms, and invariably made a point of giving him his title, bishop of geneva. in short, he paid him such deference as excited universal astonishment. in vain did the huguenot clergy storm and rage, in vain did they threaten to excommunicate anyone having dealings with the bishop. they could not prevent the majority of their congregations from pressing every day to hear the saint's sermons, which created a great sensation amongst them. the huguenot preachers, far from gaining fresh adherents, saw their flock steadily dwindling away. at last, in despair, the consistory determined to send a deputation to remonstrate with m. de lesdigiuères on the warm welcome he was giving the holy bishop, and on his own behaviour in scandalizing the whole protestant party by attending blessed francis' sermons. the deputation, formed of the elders and most notable men of the sect, reached the marshal's house early in the morning, so that he was not even dressed when their request for an interview was brought to him. being a man who would not be dictated to, he sent down word to the huguenots that if they came to visit him as friends, or to communicate any matter of business to him, he would receive them gladly, but if they meant to remonstrate with him, in the name of the consistory or ministers, on the politeness he was showing to the bishop of geneva, they might rest assured that they would go out through the window faster than they had come in by the door! this message was enough. the deputation broke up at once; but with how many lamentations over this unexpected reception, given by one whom they had reckoned upon as the chief stay and prop of their sect. their next plan was to send one of the principal noblemen of the province, a protestant like themselves, upon the same errand as before. he, however, fared no better than the deputation. tell those gentlemen (said m. de lesdigiuères) that i am old enough to know the rules of politeness. up to the age of thirty i was myself a roman catholic. i know how roman catholics treat their bishops, and with what respect these bishops are treated by kings and princes. they hold a rank altogether different from that of our ministers, who, even the highest among them, are only parish priests, since they themselves deny the very existence of the order of bishop, however good a foundation for it there may seem to be in the teaching of holy scripture. as for me, my belief is that they will in the end be sorry they have given up this distinction of rank. "tell m. b. (he was a minister of low birth, had formerly been m. de lesdigiuères' servant, and owed to him his actual position in the so-called reformed church of grenoble) that when i see among huguenot ministers, sons and brothers of sovereign princes, as i do among roman catholic bishops, archbishops, and cardinals, i will perhaps change my mind as to how to treat them socially. "as regards the bishop of geneva, i can only say that if i were in his place and were, as he is, sovereign prince of this city, i would see that i was properly obeyed, and that my authority was duly recognised. i know what are his rights and titles better than b ... or any of his colleagues can possibly do; it is for me to give them a lesson on the subject, and for them, if they are wise, to listen. it is not for young, uneducated men to presume to show a man of my age and rank how to behave himself." after this the viceroy redoubled his attentions to the holy bishop, to whom he paid every honour in his power. on the other hand, he himself received such good impressions of our religion from what he saw of the bishop that they greatly facilitated his conversion, which took place after he had been promoted to the rank of constable. he died an excellent catholic, and most happily. upon memory and judgment. on one occasion blessed francis was complaining to me of the shortness of his memory. i tried to console him by reminding him that even if it were true, there was no lack in him of judgment, for in that he always excelled. in reply, he said that it was certainly unusual to find a good memory and excellent judgment united, although the two qualities might be possessed together by some in a moderate degree. he added that there were of course exceptions to the rule, but such exceptions were mostly of rare and extraordinary merit. he gave as an instance one of his most intimate friends, the great anthony favre, first president of savoy, and one of the most celebrated lawyers of his time, who united in his own person remarkable keenness of judgment with a marvellous memory. "in truth," he went on to say, "these two qualities are so different in their nature, that it is not difficult for one to push the other out. one is the outcome of vivacity and alertness, the other is not unfrequently characteristic of the slow and leaden-footed." after some more conversation with me on this subject, in which i deplored my want of judgment, he concluded with these words: "it is a common thing for people to complain of their defective memory, and even of the malice and worthlessness of their will, but nobody ever deplores his poverty of spirit, i.e., of judgment. in spite of the beatitude, everyone rejects such a thought as a doing an injustice to themselves. well, courage! advancing years will bring you plenty of judgment: it is one of the fruits of experience and old age. "but as for memory, its failure is one of the undoubted defects of old people. that is why i have little hope of the improvement of my own; but provided i have enough to remember god that is all i want.[ ] _i remembered, o lord, thy judgments of old: and i was comforted._" [footnote : psalm cxviii. .] a priest should not aim at imitating in his sermons any particular preacher. i esteemed him so highly, and not without reason, that all his ways delighted me. among others, i thought that i should like to imitate his style of preaching. can it be said that i chose a bad model or was wanting in taste? do not, however, imagine for a moment that i have ever aimed at reproducing his lofty and deep thoughts and teaching, the eloquent sweetness of his language, the marvellous power which swayed the hearts of his audience. no, i have always felt that to be beyond my powers, and i have only tried to mould my action, gestures, and intonation after the pattern set by him. now, as it happened, that owing to his constitution and temperament his speech was always slow and deliberate, not to say prosy, and my own quite the opposite, i became so strangely changed that my dear people at belley (where the above incident occurred) almost failed to recognise me. they thought a changeling had been foisted upon them in the place of their own bishop, whose vehement action and passionate words they dearly loved, even though sometimes they had found his discourses hard to follow. in fact, i had ceased to be myself; i was now nothing more than a wretched copy with nothing in it really recalling the original. our blessed father heard of this, and being eager to apply a remedy chose his opportunity, and one day, when we were talking about sermons, quietly remarked that he was told i had taken it into my head to imitate the bishop of geneva in my preaching. i replied that it was so, and asked if i had chosen a bad model, and if he did not preach better than i did. "ah," he replied, "this is a chance for attacking his reputation! but, no, he does not preach so badly, only the worst of it is that they tell me you imitate him so badly that his style is not recognisable: that you have spoiled the bishop of belley yet have not at all succeeded in reproducing the bishop of geneva. you had better, like the artist who was forced to put the name of his subject under every portrait he painted, give out that you are only copying me." "well, be it so," i replied, "in good time you will see that little by little from being a pupil i have become a master, and in the end my copies will be taken for originals." "jesting apart," he continued, "you are spoiling yourself, ruining your preaching, and pulling down a splendid building to re-fashion it into one which sins against the rules of nature and art. you must remember, too, that if at your age, like a piece of cloth, you have taken a wrong fold, it will not be easy to smooth it out." "ah! if manners could be changed, what would i not give for such as yours? i do what i can to stir myself up, i do not spare the spur, but the more i urge myself on, the less i advance. i have difficulty in getting my words out, and still more in pronouncing them. i am heavier than a block, i can neither excite my own emotions, nor those of others. you have more fire in the tip of your fingers than i have in my whole body. where you fly like a bird, i crawl like a tortoise. and now they tell me that you, who are naturally so rapid, so lively, so powerful in your preaching, are weighing your words, counting your periods, drooping your wings, dragging yourself on, and making your audience as tired as yourself. is this the beautiful noemi of bygone days? the city of perfect loveliness, the joy of the whole earth?" why should i dwell more on his reproof? sufficient to say that he cured me of my error, and i returned to my former style of preaching, god grant that it may be for his glory! upon short sermons. he highly approved of brevity in preaching, and used to say that the chief fault of the preachers of the day was lengthiness. i ventured to ask how that could be a fault, and how he could speak of abundance as if it were famine? he answered: "when the vine is thick in leaves it always bears less fruit, multiplicity of words does not produce great results. you will find that a powerful and spirited horse will always start off promptly, and as promptly pull up. a poor post hack, on the contrary, will go on several paces after his rider has reined him in. why is that? because he is weak. so it is with the mind and intellect. he who is strong leaves off speaking when he pleases, because he has great control over himself, and readiness of judgment. a weak-minded man speaks much, but loses himself in his own thoughts, nor thinks of finishing what he has to say. look at all the homilies and sermons of the ancient fathers and observe how short they were, yet how much more efficacious than our lengthy ones! wise st. francis of assisi, in his rule, prescribes that the preachers of his order shall preach the gospel with brevity, and gives an excellent reason: 'remembering,' he says, 'that: _a short word shall the lord make upon the earth_.'[ ] the more you say, the less your hearers will retain. the less you say, the more they will profit. believe me in this, for i speak from experience. by overloading the memory of a hearer we destroy it, just as lamps are put out when they are filled too full of oil, and plants are spoilt by being too abundantly watered. when a discourse is too long, by the time the end is reached, the middle is forgotten, and by the time the middle is reached the beginning has been lost. moderately good preachers are accepted, provided they are brief, and the best become tiresome when they are too lengthy. there is no more disagreeable quality in a preacher than prolixity." our blessed father sometimes surprised me by saying that we ought to be pleased if, when going up into the pulpit to preach, we saw before us a small and scattered audience. "thirty years of experience," he said, "have made me speak thus: i have always seen greater results from the sermons which i have preached to small congregations than from those which i have delivered in crowded churches. an occurrence which i am going to relate will justify what i say. "when i was provost, or rather dean, of my church, my predecessor in this diocese, sent me, in company with some other priests, to instruct in the faith the inhabitants of the three bailiwicks of the chablais, namely, thonon, ternier, and gaillard. the towns being full at that time of huguenots, we had no access to them, and could only say mass and give instruction in some scattered and rather distant chapels. "one sunday, when the weather was very bad, there were only seven persons at my mass, and these few suggested to some one to tell me that i ought not to take the trouble of preaching after mass, as it was the custom then to do, the number of hearers being so small. i replied that neither did a large audience encourage me, nor a scanty one discourage me; provided only that i could edify one single person, that would be enough for me. "i went up; therefore, into the pulpit, and i remember that the subject of my sermon was praying to the saints, i treated it very simply and catechetically, not at all controversially, as you know that is neither my style nor is the doing so to my taste. i said nothing pathetic, and put nothing very forcibly, yet one of my small audience began to weep bitterly, sobbing and giving vent to audible sighs. i thought that he was ill, and begged him not to put any constraint upon himself, as i was quite ready to break off my sermon, and to give him any help he needed. he replied that he was perfectly well in body, and he begged me to go on speaking boldly, for so i should be administering the needful healing to the wound. "the sermon, which was very short, being ended, he hurried up to me, and throwing himself at my feet cried out: 'reverend sir, you have given me life, you have saved my soul to-day. oh, blessed the hour in which i came here and listened to your words! this hour will be worth a whole eternity to me.' "and then, being asked to do so, he related openly before the little congregation, that, having conferred with some ministers on this very same subject of praying to the saints, which they made out to be sheer idolatry, he had decided on the following thursday to return to their ranks (he was a recent convert to catholicism), and to abjure the catholic religion. but, he added, that the sermon which he had just heard had instructed him so well, and had so fully dispersed all his doubts, that he took back with his whole heart the promise he had given them, and vowed new obedience to the roman church. "i cannot tell you what an impression this great example, taking place in so small a congregation, made throughout the country, or how docile and responsive to the words of life and of truth it made all hearts. i could allege other similar instances, some even more remarkable." for myself i now prefer small congregations, and am never so well pleased as when i see only a little group of people listening to my preaching. seneca once said to his friend lucillus that they themselves formed a theatre wide enough for the communication of their philosophy, and, speaking of those who came to hear his teaching, he says: _satis sunt pauci, satis est alter, satis est unus. a few are enough--two are enough--nay, one is enough._ why should not a christian philosopher be content with what was enough for this stoic? [footnote : rom. ix. .] upon preaching and preachers. on the subject of preaching, blessed francis had very definite and weighty thoughts. he considered that it was not sufficient for a preacher to teach the ways of god to the unrighteous, and by converting the wicked, to build up by his words the walls of jerusalem, that is, of holy church, while making known to god's people the ways of divine providence. he wanted more than this, and said that every sermon ought to have some special plan, with always for its end the giving glory to god and the converting and instructing of those who were to hear it. sometimes this would be the setting forth of a mystery, sometimes the clearing up of some point of faith, sometimes the denouncing of a particular vice, sometimes the endeavouring to plant some virtue in the hearts of the hearers. "no one," he said, "can sufficiently lay to heart the importance of having a definite aim in preaching; for want of it many carefully studied sermons are without fruit. some preachers are content to explain their text with all the painstaking and mental effort that they can bring to bear upon the subject. others give themselves up to elaborate and exhaustive research and excite the admiration of their hearers, either by their scientific reasonings, their eloquence, the studied grace of their gestures, or by their perfect diction. others add to all this beautiful and useful teaching, but so that it only slips in here and there, as it were, by chance, and is not expressly dwelt upon. but when we have only one aim, and when all our reasonings and all our movements tend towards it and gather round it, as the radii of a circle round the unity of its centre, then the impression made is infinitely more powerful. such speaking has the force of a mighty river which leaves its mark upon the hardest of the stones it flows over. "drones visit every flower, yet gather no honey from any. the working bee does otherwise: it settles down upon each flower just as long as is necessary for it to suck in enough sweetness to make its one honeycomb. so those who follow my method will preach profitable sermons, and will deserve to be accounted faithful dispensers of the divine mysteries; prudent administrators of the word of life and of eternal life." when our blessed father heard a certain preacher praised up to the skies, he asked in what virtues he excelled; whether in humility, mortification, gentleness, courage, devotion or what? when told that he was said to preach very well, he replied: "that is speaking, not acting: the former is far easier than the latter. there are many who speak and yet act not, and who destroy by their bad example what they build up with their tongue. a man whose tongue is longer than his arm, is he not a monstrosity?" on one occasion, of some one who had delighted all his hearers by a sermon he had preached, it was said: "to-day he literally did wonders." the saint replied: "if he did that he must be one of those absolutely blameless men of whom scripture says 'they have not sought after gold, nor hoped for treasures of gold and silver.'" another time he was told that this same preacher had on a particular day surpassed himself. "ah!" he said, "what new act of self-renunciation has he made? what injury has he borne? for it is only after overcoming ourselves in this way that we surpass ourselves." "do you wish to know," he continued, "how i test the excellence and value of a preacher? it is by assuring myself that those who have been listening to him come away striking their breasts and saying: 'i will, do better'; not by their saying: 'oh how well he spoke, what beautiful things he said!' for to say beautiful things in fluent and well-chosen words shows indeed the learning and eloquence of a man; but the conversion of sinners and their departing from their evil ways is the sure sign that god has spoken by the mouth of the preacher, that he possesses the true power of speech, which is inspired by the science of the saints, and that he proclaims worthily in the name of almighty god that perfect law which is the salvation of souls. "the true fruit of preaching is the destruction of sin and the establishment of the kingdom of justice upon earth.[ ] by this justice, of which the prophet speaks, is meant justification and sanctification. for this, god sends his preachers, as jesus christ sent his apostles, that they may bring forth fruit, and that this fruit may remain,[ ] and by consequence that they may labour for a meat which perishes not, but which endures unto life everlasting."[ ] when i was in residence in my diocese i never failed to preach on every possible day in advent and lent, besides doing so on all sundays and holidays. some good people who set themselves up as judges in such matters, full of worldly prudence said that i was making myself too common, and bringing the holy function of preaching into contempt. this came to the ears of our blessed father, and he, despising such poor earthly wisdom, observed, that to blame a husbandman or vinedresser for cultivating his land too well was really to praise him. speaking to me on the subject, and fearing that all that had been said might discourage me, he related to me what follows: "i had," he said, the best father in the world, but as he had spent a great part of his life at court and in the camp, he knew the maxims that hold in those conditions of life far better than he did the principles of holy living. "while i was provost," he continued, "i preached on all possible occasions, whether in the chablais, where i was busy for many years uprooting heresy, or, on my return, in the cathedral, in parish churches, and even in the chapels of the most obscure confraternities. while at annecy i never refused any invitation whencesoever it came to preach. one day my good father took me aside and said to me: 'provost, you preach too often. even on week days i am always hearing the bell ringing for sermons, and when i ask who is preaching i invariably get the same answer: "the provost, the provost." in my time, it was not so; sermons were rare, but then they _were_ sermons! they were learned and well studied, more greek and latin was quoted in one of them than in ten of yours; people were delighted and edified, they crowded to hear them, just as they would have crowded to gather up manna. now, you make preaching so common that no one thinks much of it, and you yourself are held in far less esteem.' "you see my good father spoke according to his lights and quite sincerely. you may be sure he was not wishing me ill, but he was guided by the maxims of the world in which he had been brought up. "yet what folly in the sight of god are all the principles of human wisdom! if we pleased men we should not be the servants of jesus christ, he himself, the model of all preachers, did not use all this circumspection, neither did the apostles who followed in his footsteps. _preach the word: be instant in season out of season._[ ] "believe me, we can never preach enough, especially in this border-land of heresy, heresy which is only kept alive by sermons, and which will never be destroyed except by that very breath of god which is holy preaching. "if you will take my advice, therefore, you will shut your eyes against the counsels of your worldly-wise monitors and listen rather to st. paul, who says to you: _but be thou vigilant, labour in all things, do the work of an evangelist, fulfil thy ministry._[ ] "moreover, when the apostle continues, _be sober_, he refers to temperance in eating and drinking, not to sobriety or restraint in the discharge of pastoral duties. blessed is the pastor who shall be found watching and feeding his flock! i tell you that the divine master will set him over all his goods. and when the prince of pastors shall come he will receive from his hand a crown of glory which can never fade." [footnote : dan. ix .] [footnote : john xv. .] [footnote : id. vi. .] [footnote : tim. iv. , .] [footnote : tim. iv. .] blessed francis and the bishop of belley's sermon. one day i was to preach at the visitation convent at annecy, the first established convent of the order, and i knew that our blessed father, as well as a great congregation, would be present. i had, to tell the truth, taken extra pains in the consideration of my subject, and intended to do my very best. i had chosen for text a passage in the canticle of canticles, and this i turned and twisted into every possible form, applying it to the visitation vocation which i extolled far too extravagantly to please the good bishop. when he and i were alone together afterwards, he told me that, though my hearers had been delighted with me, and could not say enough in praise of my sermon, there was one solitary exception, one individual who was not pleased with it. on my expressing surprise and much curiosity to know whom i could have hurt or distressed by my words, he answered quietly that i saw the person now before me. i looked around--there was no one present but himself. "alas!" i cried, "this is indeed a wet blanket thrown upon my success. i had rather have had your approbation than that of a whole province! however, god be praised! i have fallen into the hands of a surgeon who wounds only to heal. "what more have you to say, for i know you do not intend to spare me?" "i love you too much," he replied, "either to spare or to flatter you, and had you loved our sisters in the same way, you would not have wasted words in puffing them up in place of edifying them, and in praising their vocation, of which they have already quite a sufficiently high opinion. "you would have dealt out to them more salutary doctrine, in proportion as it would have been more humiliating. always remember that the whole object of preaching is to root out sin, and to plant justice in its stead." on my replying to this that those whom i addressed were already delivered from the hands of their enemies, the world, the flesh, and the devil, and were serving god securely in holiness and justice, "then," he said, "since they are standing, you should teach them to take heed lest they fall, and to work out their salvation with fear and trembling. "it is right, indeed, for you to encourage them to persevere in their holy undertaking, but you must do so without exposing them to the danger of presumption and vanity. enough said; i know that for the future you will be careful in this matter." the next day he sent me to preach in a convent of poor clares, an order renowned for the exemplary life of its members and for their extraordinary austerities. i took good care to avoid the rock on which i had struck the day before, and against which he had warned me. there was as large a congregation as before, but i confined myself to plain and simple language, without a thought of studied rhetoric. i did not praise the austerities of the good nuns, nor did i labour to please any of my hearers, their edification was my sole object. on our return to the house, our blessed father said, embracing me tenderly, that though most of those present were dissatisfied, and compared my sermon most unfavourably with that of the preceding day, yet, that he, on the contrary, who had then found fault with me, was now perfectly contented and pleased, and that he believed that god was pleased also. "as for your past faults," he continued, "i give you a plenary indulgence for them all. "if you continue to preach as you have just done, whatever the world may say, you will be doing much service for the master of the vineyard, and will become a fitting servant of his testament." one day i was preaching before him at annecy in the church which he used as his cathedral. he was surrounded by all his canons, who, with the whole chapter, attended him to the bench where he was in the habit of sitting to hear sermons. this particular one of mine pleased him as regarded its matter and delivery, but i suffered an allusion to escape me referring to his own name of sales, and implying, or rather affirming, that he was the salt (_sal es_) with which the whole mass of the people was seasoned. this praise was so distasteful to him that, on our return from the church, he took me to task for it, in a tone and with a manner as severe as was possible to his gentle nature. "you were going on so well," he said. "what could have induced you to play these pranks? do you know that you spoilt your sermon by them? truly, i am a fine sort of salt, fit only to be thrown into the street and trampled under foot by the people. for certainly you must have said what you did say in order to put me to shame--you have found out the right way to do that--but, at least, spare your own friends." i tried to excuse myself, alleging that what the bishop of saluces once said to him had suddenly come into my heads and that, quite without premeditation, the very same words escaped my lips, "but," he replied, "in the pulpit such things must not escape our lips. i am quite aware that this time they really did escape you, but you must not allow it to happen again." i may here explain, for your benefit, what i meant by this reference to a saying of the bishop of saluces. that holy prelate, who died in the odour of sanctity, and who was a disciple of sr. philip neri, was an intimate friend of our blessed father's. on one occasion, when the latter was passing through saluces on his way to the shrine of our lady of montdeay, the good bishop received him with every mark of respect, and begged him to preach in his cathedral. after the sermon, he said to him, "my lord, truly _tu sal es; at ego, neque sal, neque lux_." that is to say, "you are a true salt (_sal es_), and i am neither salt nor light," alluding to the word saluces (_sal lux_), his diocese.[ ] [footnote : note.--another version says that it was st. francis who answered: "on the contrary, _tu sal et lux_." see "vies de s. f. de sales." by his nephew, charles auguste de sales and hamon. also the life of blessed juvenal ancina, the said bishop of saluces. [ed.]] upon controversy. the gentleness of his disposition made blessed francis averse to disputing, either in private or public, in matters of religion. rather, he loved to hold informal and kindly conferences with any who had wandered from the right way; and by this means he brought back countless souls into the catholic church. his usual method of proceeding was this. he first of all listened readily to all that his opponents had to say about their religion, not showing any sign of weariness or contempt, however tired he might be of the subject. by this means he sought to incline them to give him in his turn some little attention. when, if only out of mere civility, he was given in his turn an opportunity of speaking, he did not lose a moment of the precious time, but at once took up the subject treated by the heretic, or perhaps another which he considered more useful, and deduced from it briefly, clearly, and very simply the truth of the catholic belief, and this without any air of contending, without a word which breathed of controversy, but neither more nor less than as if dealing in a catechetical instruction with an article of the faith. if interrupted by outcries and contemptuous expressions, he bore the annoyance with incredible patience, and, without showing himself disturbed in the least, continued his discourse as soon as ever an opportunity was given to him. "you would never believe," he said, "how beautiful the truths of our holy faith appear to those who consider them calmly. we smother them when we try to dress them up, and we hide them when we aim at rendering them too conspicuous. faith is an infused, not a natural, knowledge; it is not a human science, but a divine light, by means of which we see things which, in the natural order, art invisible to us. if we try to teach it as human sciences are taught, by ocular demonstrations and by natural evidence, we deceive ourselves; faith is not to be found where human reason tries only to support itself by the experience of the senses. "all the external proofs which can be brought to bear upon our opponents are weak, unless the holy spirit is at work in their soul's, teaching them to recognise the ways of god. all that has to be done is to propose to them simply the truths of our faith. to propose these truths is to compel men to accept them, unless, indeed, they resist the holy spirit, either through dullness of understanding, or through uncircumcision of the heart. the attaching over much importance to the light of natural reason is a quenching of the spirit of god. faith is not an acquired, but an infused virtue; it must be treated with accordingly, and in instructing heretics we must beware of taking to ourselves any part of the glory which belongs to god alone. "one of the greatest misfortunes of heretics is that their ministers in their discourses travesty our faith, representing it as something quite different from what it really is. for example, they pretend that we have no regard for holy scripture; that we worship the pope as god; that we regard the saints as divinities; that we hold the blessed virgin as being more than jesus christ; that we pay divine worship to images and pictures; that we believe souls in purgatory to be suffering the selfsame agony and despair as those in hell; that we deprive the laity of participation in the blood of jesus christ; that we adore bread in the eucharist; that we despise the merits of jesus christ, attributing our salvation solely to the merit of our good works; that auricular confession is mental torture; and so on, endeavouring by calumnies of this sort to discredit our religion and to render the very thought of it odious to those who are so thoroughly misinformed as to its nature. when, on the contrary, they are made acquainted with our real belief on any of these points, the scales fall from their eyes, and they see that the fascination and cajolery of their preachers has hidden from them the truth as to god's goodness and the beauty of god's truth, and has put darkness before them in the place of light. "it is true that at first they may shrug their shoulders, and laugh us to scorn; but when they have left us, and, being alone, reflect a little on what we have told them, you will see them flutter back like decoyed birds, saying to us, 'we should like to hear you speak again about those things which you brought before us the other day.' then they fall, some on the right hand, others on the left, and truth, victorious on all sides, brings them by different paths to know it as it really is." he gave me many instances of conversions he had himself made in this manner during his five years' mission in the chablais. he gave them to show how useful this mode of proceeding was, and how far more helpful to souls than mere controversy can be. the same subject continued. blessed francis did not approve of controversial sermons,[ ] "the christian pulpit," he used to say, "is a place for improving of morals, not for wrangling about them, for instructing the faithful in the truth of their belief, rather than for convincing of their error those who have separated themselves from the church. an experience of thirty years in the work of evangelising makes me speak thus. we made some trial of the controversial method, when god through us led back the chablais to the catholic faith, but when i attempted to throw my treating of controversial subjects in the pulpit into the form of a discussion, it was never successful. in place of reclaiming our separated brethren, this method scares them away; when they see that we are of set purpose attacking them, they instantly put themselves on their guard; when we bring the lamp too close to their eyes, they start back from the light. nor have i ever observed that any of my fellow labourers in this work of the lord were more successful in following out this plan, of fencing, as i may more justly call it, even though they engaged in it with the utmost enthusiasm, and in a place where the congregation all sang hymns together, and each one in his turn acted the preacher, each saying exactly what he liked, and no one taking any kind of official lead among them. "but, in truth, this fencing was what st. paul calls beating the air.[ ] i do not mean that we must not prove catholic truths, and refute the contrary errors; for the weapons of the spiritual armoury and of the word of god are powerful to destroy all false teaching which rears itself up against the truth, and to condemn disobedience to god; but we must not slash with our words as desperate fencers do, but rather manage them dexterously, as does a surgeon when using his lancet--he probes skilfully, so as to wound the patient as little as possible." and, indeed, blessed francis' way of dealing with this branch of theology, bristling with thorns as it does at every point, was so sweet and pleasant as to make it, as it were, blossom into roses. i could relate many instances of the success of his preaching, without employing controversy, in bringing back wanderers from the fold, equally with other sinners, into the church. he accomplished this by simply stating great truths, and bringing them home to his hearers. one of the most remarkable instances, perhaps, is that of the protestant lady, who hearing him preach on the last judgment at paris in the year , having been attracted more by curiosity than by any good motive to listen to the sermon, there received that first flash of light which afterwards guided her into the bosom of the true church, into which later she was followed by all the members of her noble family, one that has since given us many celebrated divines and preachers. this incident, however, with many more of the same kind, is fully related in the life of our blessed father. so successful was he with protestants that cardinal du perron used to say that if it were only a question of confounding the heretics, he thought he had found out the secret, but to convert them he felt obliged to send for the bishop of geneva. [footnote : note.--it is more correct to say that st. francis preferred moral sermons to controversy.] [footnote : cor. ix. .] upon reason and reasoning. he used to say that reason never deceives, but reasoning often does. when a person went to him with some complaint, or about some troublesome business, he would always listen most patiently and attentively to any reasons which were put before him, and, being full of prudence and good judgment, he could always discern between what had any bearing on the matter and what was foreign to it. when, therefore, people began obstinately to defend their opinions by reasons, which, plausible though they might appear, really carried no weight sufficient to secure a judgment, he would sometimes say very gently, "yes, i know quite well that these are your reasons, but do you know that all reasons are not reasonable?" someone on one occasion having retorted that he might as well assert that heat was not warm, he replied seriously, "reason and reasoning are two different things: reasoning is only the path leading to reason." thus he would endeavour to bring the person who had strayed away from truth back to it. truth and reason can never be separated, because they are one and the same thing. upon quoting holy scripture. st. charles borromeo never read the scriptures except on his knees, just as if he were listening to god speaking on mount sinai in thunder and lightning. blessed francis also would not allow the bible to be treated with anything but the most extreme reverence, whether in public speaking, in writing, or in private reading. he was especially averse to that habit which some preachers have of plunging into the mystical meaning of a passage, whether allegorical or figurative, before they have explained its literal sense. "to do this," he said, "is to build the roof of a house before laying the foundation. holy scripture must be treated with more reverence and more consistency--it is not material to be cut according to our fancy, and made into ornamental garments such as fashion suggests." upon political diplomacy. on one occasion i expressed my surprise to our blessed father that his serene highness charles emanuel, duke of savoy, who was one of the most excellent princes and foremost politicians of his age, should never have employed him in his affairs, especially in those which regarded france, where they did not prosper. as may be supposed, i explained the reason of my surprise, insisting that his gentleness, patience, skill, and probity were certain to bring about the desired result. he listened in silence, and then answered with a seriousness and earnestness which put me to shame, "you say too much, you exaggerate: you imagine that others esteem me as you do, you who are always looking at me through a magnifying glass. however, let us put that aside. as regards our prince, my feeling is very different from yours, for in this very matter i consider that he shows the excellence of his judgment. "i will tell you why i speak and think this. in the first place, i have not all that skill and prudence in the management of affairs with which you credit me. is it likely i should have? the mere words, human prudence, business, politics, terrify me. that is not all. to speak frankly, i know nothing of the art of lying, dissimulating, or pretence, which latter is the chief instrument and the mainspring of political manoeuvring; the art of arts in all matters of human prudence and of civil administration. "not for all the provinces of savoy, of france, nay, not for the whole empire, would i connive at deceit. i deal with others frankly, in good faith, and very simply; the words of my lips are the outcome of the thoughts of my heart. i cannot carry two faces under one hood; i hate duplicity with a mortal hatred, knowing that god holds the deceitful man in abomination. there are very few who, knowing me, do not at least discern this much of my character. they therefore judge very wisely that i am by no means fit for an office in which you have to speak peace to your neighbour whilst you are plotting mischief against him in your heart. moreover, i have always followed, as a heavenly, supreme, and divine maxim, those great words of the apostle: _no man being a soldier to god entangleth himself with secular business that he may please him to whom he hath engaged himself._"[ ] [footnote : tim. ii, .] upon ambition. st. francis was truly like aaron called to the pastoral charge by god alone, without his having used artifices or other means to procure himself such honour. this plainly appears from his life written by so many worthy persons. his bishopric was, indeed, no sinecure, being a most onerous burden. he says of it himself in one of his letters: "the affairs of this diocese are not streams, they are torrents which cannot be forded." alluding to the words of the prophet: _and, it was a torrent which i could not pass over_.[ ] towards the close of his life, when madame christina of france, the king's sister,[ ] married his serene highness the prince of piedmont, heir to the duke of savoy, she wished to have blessed francis in some official position close to her person, and, to effect this, proposed to make him her grand almoner. certain prelates who had been themselves hoping to obtain this office, seeing their design thus frustrated, murmured bitterly, bursting forth into angry invectives against the saint, as if by cabals, and intrigue, according to the custom of the world, he had succeeded in gaining the post for himself. st. francis, however, was merely amused by what he called the buzzing of flies, and wrote to one in whom he could confide: "her highness and the prince of piedmont wish me to become the princess's grand almoner, but you will believe me readily enough, i am sure, when i tell you that i neither, directly nor indirectly, have shown any wish to obtain this office. no, truly, my dearest mother, i have no ambition save that of being able to employ the remainder of my days usefully in the service and to the honour of our lord. indeed, i hold courts in sovereign contempt, because they are centres of the power of this world, which i abhor each day more and more--itself, its spirit, its maxims, and all its follies." [footnote : ezech. xlvii. .] [footnote : louis xiii.] upon courts and courtiers. blessed francis did not hold the opinion of many that the courts of princes are places the very atmosphere of which is so tainted as to infect all who frequent them, and to be invariably prejudicial to the health and holiness of the soul. those who describe a court in terms of this sort are usually very ignorant on the subject. they speak of what they have never seen nor heard about from competent witnesses. a soul which has received the grace of god, and preserves it, can work out its salvation anywhere, nor is there any harmful intercourse so disease-laden that it cannot be overcome by this heavenly antidote, "david, and after him st. louis," says our holy bishop, "in the press of the perils, toils, and travails which they endured, as well in peace as in war, did not cease to sing in truth: '_what have i in heaven, and, besides thee, what do i desire upon earth?_'"[ ] "st. bernard lost none of the ground which he desired to gain in this holy love by passing much time in the courts and armies of great princes where he laboured to guide matters of state to the advancement of god's glory. he changed his habitation, but he changed not his heart, nor did his heart change its love, nor his love its object; in fine, to speak his own language, changes were made round about him, but not in him. "his employments were different, yet he was indifferent to all employment, and different from them all, his soul not taking its colour from his affairs and conversations, as the chameleon does from the places where it is, but remaining ever wholly united to god, ever white in purity, ever red with charity, and ever full of humility. "i am not ignorant, theotimus, of that wise man's counsel, he ever flies the court and legal strife who seeks to sow the seeds of holy life: rarely do camps effect the soul's increase, virtue and faith are daughters unto peace. "and the israelites had good reason to excuse themselves to the babylonians, who urged them to sing the sacred canticles of sion: _how shall we sing the song of the lord in a strange land?_[ ] but do not forget that those poor people were not only among the babylonians, but were also their captives, and whoever is intent only on winning the favours of princes, dignities, military honours, alas! he is lost, he cannot sing the hymn of heavenly love. but he who is at court, in the army, at the bar, only because it is his duty, god helps him, and heavenly sweetness is an _epithem_ on his heart, to preserve him from the plague which rages round about him. "there are some kinds of fish, such as salmon, and the like, which, instead of losing their flavour, become better and more agreeable to the taste when they forsake the salt water of the sea for the sweet water of rivers. "roses smell sweeter when planted near garlic, and in like manner there are souls which grow more fervent in places where libertinism and irreligion seem to drag all virtue at their chariot wheels."[ ] our blessed father's piety was of this sort, for, knowing that he who is consecrated to god should not entangle himself in the intrigues of the world.[ ] he speaks thus to one in whom he confided: "i must confess that, as regards business, especially that of a worldly nature, i feel myself more than ever to be nothing but a poor priest, having, thank god, learnt at court to be more simple and less worldly." truly, we may say here with the wise man: _who is he and we will praise him? for he hath done wonderful things in his life._[ ] [footnote : psalm lxxii. .] [footnote : psalm cxxxvi. .] [footnote : _love of god_. book xii. c. .] [footnote : tim. ii. .] [footnote : eccles. xxxi. .] upon the carnival. his sad time each year was the carnival, those days of disorder and licence which, like a torrent, carry away into excesses of one sort or another even the staunchest and most fervent in their piety. he felt, indeed, like job of old, who offered sacrifices and prayers, and afflicted both body and soul with fasts and mortifications, while his children were passing their time in revellings and banquetings. as our blessed father was all things to all men, and weak with the weak, so he also burned with the scandalised; and who would not be scandalised to see the pagan festival of the bacchanalia celebrated among christians? for this very reason, as we know, the name of god is blasphemed by many, and the catholic religion unjustly blamed, as if it permitted what it cannot prevent, as if it commanded what it tolerates with reluctance, as if it ordered what it detests and declaims against by the mouth of its preachers. perhaps you would like to hear the words in which our blessed father pours forth his lamentations over this period of the year, so full of disorder and confusion. "i must tell you," he says, "that now i have come to my sorrowful time. from the epiphany even to lent my heart is full of strange sensations. miserable and detestable as i am, i am weighed down with grief to see the loss of so much devotion, i mean the falling off of so many souls. these two last sundays i have found our communions diminished by one-half. that has grieved me very much, for even if those who made them do not give way to sin, why, and for what, do they now omit them? for nothing at all--out of mere vanity, it is that which grieves me." an instance of his compassion for animals. the church inculcates on the clergy perfect gentleness and kindness. this is why they may never take any part in anything involving bloodshed. his having shed the blood of a fellow man, even when required by the interests of justice, is considered a canonical irregularity, and deprives a priest of the right to celebrate holy mass. blessed francis was remarkable for his gentleness and tender-heartedness towards all creatures. i will give you a little instance of this. one day he was at my house, when a nobleman of distinction called upon us. this gentleman was at the head of a hunting party, and seeing in my orchard a roebuck which had been given to me and which was peacefully feeding, he proposed, as he said, to amuse our blessed father by setting his dogs upon the poor animal, and to confine the hunt to my orchard. the good bishop's remonstrances were in vain. but though he refused to go to the orchard, he could not avoid being a witness, however unwillingly, of what took place, as his room overlooked the ground. great numbers of people came to enjoy the spectacle; the horns were blown, the dogs barked, while the poor roebuck, as if it knew who would fain have been its deliverer, bounding towards the window near which the bishop was seated, seemed, like a suppliant, to be imploring his help. blessed francis drew back, and begged as earnestly that the hunt might be given up as if he had been asking pardon for a criminal. he did not see the end, for the animal was at once brought to bay and despatched. they wanted him to see it when dead, but he did not deign so much as to look at it, and when the venison was served at table, he most unwillingly partook of the dish. "alas," he exclaimed, "what hellish pleasure! this is just how infuriated demons pursue poor souls by temptations to sin, so as to precipitate them into the abyss of everlasting death, yet of that no one thinks." upon hunting. blessed francis was sometimes taxed with over much good nature and gentleness, and was told that this was the cause of many disorders which would not have occurred had he been more wholesomely severe. he, however, answered calmly and sweetly that he had always in his mind the words of the great st. anselm, the glory of our alps, among which he was born. that saint, he observed, was in the habit of saying that if he had to be punished either for being too indulgent or being over-rigorous, he would far rather it should be for the former. he gave as his reason that judgment with mercy would be meted out to the merciful, and that god would always have more pity on the pitiful than on the rigorous. he went on to recall that most sound maxim: sovereign right is only sovereign injustice, and remarked that in holy scripture those pastors who were over-severe were invariably blamed. our saint used always to say that sugar never yet spoilt any sauce, but that too much salt or vinegar often did. his speaking of st. anselm's gentleness reminds me of the story told of the same saint by blessed francis in his philothea. "one day," he says, "as he, st. anselm, was travelling, a hare, being closely run by the hounds which pursued it, took refuge between his horse's feet, and the dogs remained yelping around unable to molest their prey in this its strange sanctuary. his followers were highly entertained at so novel a spectacle, but saint anselm groaned and wept. 'even thus,' said he, 'do the enemies of the soul pursue it and drive it into all manner of sins, until at the last they can kill and devour it, and whilst the terrified soul seeks for some refuge and help, its enemies mock and laugh if it finds none.'"[ ] our blessed father, following the example of the holy archbishop, was invariably kind and gentle, even with the brute creation. he not only himself never did them harm, but he prevented, as far as he could, any being done to them by others, for he believed that those who thus inflict pain on innocent creatures often, even at the risk of their own lives, display a cruel and malevolent kind of courage. he went so far as to regard it as a venial sin to injure creatures for the sole pleasure of harming them where no advantage of any sort would accrue to ourselves; his reason being that we in this way deprive them of the joy to be found in mere existence bestowed upon them by god. "what, then," he was asked, "do you say to the chase, and to the killing of animals for the food of man?" "as regards the food of man," he replied, "the very words you use justify the act, and it is that end which justifies the chase." from this we may conclude that the mere pleasure of the chase was not sufficient, in his opinion, to render lawful the indulging in it. although he blamed the superstition of the turks, who think that they acquire merit in the sight of god by lavishing kindness on senseless brutes, even the most savage and cruel, such as wolves and lions, still he used to say that this pity had a good natural source, and that those who were so compassionate to animals were likely to be no otherwise to men, nature teaching us not to despise our own flesh. in spite of these feelings, he was very far from falling into those mistakes which casuists enumerate as the result of excess in gentleness and kindness. the various writers of the life of blessed francis tell us how it was commonly remarked that all animals by natural instinct seemed to recognise his tender, compassionate feelings for them, and that when hunted and pursued, they at once took refuge with him, witness the pigeons, which at different times when he was saying the divine office, flew for safety and shelter into his very hands. [footnote : _devout life_. part ii. c. .] upon the fear of ghosts. fear is a natural passion, which, like all the others, is in itself neither bad nor good, but bad when it is excessive and disquieting, good when it is subordinate to reason. there are some who, because naturally timid and apprehensive, would never dare to speak in public. others are so afraid of thunder and lightning that they faint in a storm. others are afraid of noises at night, and have a horror of darkness and solitude. others, again, have so great a fear of ghosts and apparitions that they dare not sleep alone in a room. i have been told, on good authority, that one of our bravest and most distinguished generals, who went to battle as gaily and confidently as he would go to a marriage, declared that he could never suffer his valet, after settling him for the night, to leave his sleeping apartment, it being quite impossible for him to sleep when left alone at night. our blessed father writes in the following consoling manner to a pious person who suffered from the weakness of being afraid of ghosts: "i am told," he says, "that you are afraid of spirits. the sovereign spirit of our god is everywhere, and without his will or permission no other spirit dare stir. those who fear this divine spirit ought not to fear any other. you are beneath his wings, like a little chicken under those of its mother; what do you fear? in my youth i, too, was a prey to these imaginations, and in order to get the better of them i forced myself when quite a child to go alone into places which my fancy had peopled with fantastic terrors. i went alone, i say, but my heart was armed with confidence in god. now i am grown so strong in this confidence that darkness and the solitude of the night are delightful to me, since in solitude i realise better the all-embracing presence of god. the good angels are there round about us like a company of soldiers on guard. _the truth of god_, says the psalmist, _shall compass thee with a shield; thou shall not be afraid of the terror of night_.[ ] "this feeling of safety you will acquire little by little, in proportion as the grace of god grows in you: for grace engenders confidence, and confidence is never confounded." see how, with this timid, fearful soul, he makes himself weak and infirm. if i may be permitted to add to this great example my own poor and worthless experience, i would say that when i was young i was greatly afflicted with this weakness. it was indeed, perhaps, the chief impediment to my entering the order of st. bruno, which is, in my opinion, the holiest, as it certainly is the most retired and the most steadfast of all the religious orders. i, however, lost this infirmity as soon as i had received the imposition of hands from the blessed francis de sales, and i may add that almighty god permitted me to succeed, in the episcopal chair, three saints of that order which i revered so much, namely, saints artauld, audace, and anthelme.[ ] [footnote : psalm xi. .] [footnote : six carthusians occupied the see of belley: ponce de balmay, st. anthelme, raynauld, st. arthaut, bernard, and bd. boniface of savoy. (_trésor de chronologie, chez palmé, paris, _). audace, first bp. of belley, was not canonised, nor was he a carthusian.] his portrait. i have known great servants of god who would not on any account allow their portraits to be painted, imagining that their doing so must involve some degree of vanity and dangerous self-complacency. our blessed father was not of this opinion, but, making himself all things to all men that he might win all to jesus christ, he made no objection to having his portrait taken when asked to do so. he gave as his reason that since we are obliged by the law of holy charity to communicate to our neighbour the representation of our mind, imparting to him without dissimulation or jealousy what we have learnt concerning the science of salvation, so we ought to be still less niggardly in pleasing our friends by placing before their eyes the picture of our outward self which they so earnestly desire to have. if we see, not only without annoyance, but even with pleasure, our books, which are the portraits of our minds, in the hands of our fellow men, why grudge them the picture of our countenance, if it contribute anything to their satisfaction. on this subject he expresses himself as follows in one of his letters: "here, then, is the picture of the earthly man, for i am unwilling to refuse you anything which you desire. "i am told that my portrait has never been really well painted. that, i think, matters very little, _surely man passeth as an image. yea, and he is disquieted in vain._[ ] "i borrowed it in order to send it to you, for i have not myself got my own portrait. ah! if the image of my creator were imprinted in all its splendour on my soul, how gladly would i let you see it! "_o jesu, tuo lumine, luo redemptos sanguine, sana, refove, perfice, tibi conformes, effice. amen._" thus did he turn every subject into an occasion of elevating the soul to god. [footnote : psalm xxxviii. ] upon blessed francis' true charity. since charity was the animating motive of all that our holy bishop thought, said, or did, and since it was in truth his very spirit, we cannot better close these reminiscences of that saintly spirit than by quoting the words of the prince of the apostles: _before all things have a constant charity among yourselves, for charity covers a multitude of sins. let every one behave himself according to the dispensation of grace. 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 administers, that in all things god may be honoured through jesus christ, to whom is glory and empire for ever and ever. amen._[ ] [footnote : peter iv. , , .] the end. food for the lambs; or, helps for young christians. by chas. e. orr, author of "christian conduct," "the gospel day," etc. * * * * * "feed my lambs."--_bible_. * * * * * reprinted preface. there is much more i should like to write, but i do not think a large book is accepted by the general reader as readily as a smaller one. so lest this grows to too great a size, i have concluded to close it with what i now have written. the selections i have made from other writers are "spiritual declension," "seek first the kingdom of god," "stirring the eagle's nest," "the little foxes," "on dress," "victory," and the poems "the solitary way," "sometime," and the closing. i pray that the sayings of this little volume will animate many a soul to a higher, nobler, holier life. although it is written to young christians, it may do some good to older saints. i hope it will. i commit it to the public with no other motive than to do good. chas. e. orr. federalsburg, md., sept. , . contents introduction mortality feeding the lambs who are christ's lambs food for the lambs on fruit bearing a gazing-stock the will god our guide _the word our guide_ _the spirit's impressions_ _god's providences_ fragrance seek first the kingdom prayer meditation reverie (poem) a theater rest of the soul happiness of life (poem) the hidden life consciousness of god's presence reflection becoming love of home victory the first love the little foxes spiritual declension diligence lowliness on dress the elixir of life rules for every-day life a holy life a solitary way (poem) stirring the eagle's nest some things you should not do purity means for growth lay hold of eternal life crucifixion of self love not the world have a care (poem) affinities the guardian angel fledging the wings some time (poem) the precious ointment the tree of life eternity nearer to thee (poem) conclusion closing exhortation introduction. out upon the sea of human life sails many a bark. but, alas! how few are sailing tranquil waters. ascend with me to some solitary height and let us take a view of the innumerable human crafts as they sail out upon life's broad ocean. many are being tossed to and fro upon the angry billows. hope is almost gone. as they look forward into the distance all is dark and uncertain. in the early days of their voyage all was peaceful. they looked out over the broad expanse and saw only calm, contented waters, and hope beamed bright. they fancied themselves anchoring, in a ripe old age, in a beautiful haven of rest somewhere behind the setting sun. but they sailed only in the strength of human art. storms unexpected arose, and winds adverse beat upon them. the high, wild, angry billows threaten their destruction, and they despair of ever entering their fancied golden port. above the blackness of the raging storm there is extended a delivering hand, but they see it not. their eyes are not upward; they are upon the turbulent waves. oh, how sad! how pellucid would have been the waters and how serene in glory their voyage, if they had embarked in the strength of him who at their request would have said to the angry waves, "peace, be still," and all would have been at rest. yonder in the distance we see gay, glittering crafts sailing about in a state of unrest. some are sailing out upon the sea of worldly pleasure in search of happiness. see them rush wildly about. yonder they seem to see bright, golden waters and hope that true pleasures are to be found there. but, alas! just beneath the surface all is dark and murky and bitter. some are sailing out upon the highways of worldly fame and honor, others upon the wild stream of worldly riches, all searching for rest and finding none. see the surging, tossing mass of human barks and hear their wail of disappointment as the sweet, golden waters turn to bitter wormwood and gall. the rainbow-colored bubbles, from their hoped-for fountain of joy, burst upon the air, leaving them empty-handed and restless-hearted. above the wild din of their clamor speaks a soft, tender voice, saying, "come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and i will give you rest." but their ears are not turned to catch sounds from above; they hear only the siren song of an enchanting goddess--the world. down toward the setting sun we see many shattered vessels going down in a wild vortex. the waters are closing over them. they found that human strength was inadequate to life's voyage. they, having weathered many a storm, hoped to gain the peaceful harbor. but, alas! they are overcome at last, and, lamenting the day they ever set sail, they go down without hope. from the ethereal heights of inspiration i hear a chiding voice saying, "o had ye hearkened unto me, then had your peace been as a river, and your righteousness as the waves of the sea." you, my dear young christian reader, have just embarked upon life's untried ocean. you have laid hold upon one who is mighty to save and strong to deliver. underneath you are the everlasting arms. push out, then, boldly into the broad expanse, fearing nothing. you can escape the perils of the deep, only by making god your refuge. anchor your faith in him and see to it that your faith never breaks anchor. the billows may threaten, the storms may rage; but by faith you can beat them back, and sail out on unruffled seas. god pity the one who attempts life's voyage without the aid, cheer, and comfort that heaven gives. make the word of god your compass, and obedience the rudder that steers your little bark in all the ways god's commandments point you; and make faith the mighty cable, and you will be towed safely past the dangerous rocks and reefs and threatening billows into the peaceful haven of eternal rest. across the deep and wide unknown the bark of life sails on: who thinks to trust to human art shall perish mid the storm. the other shore far distant lies, wild billows intervene, and dangers little known arise to try the strength of men. man lays his purpose and his plan, he fixes sail to-day; but winds adverse sweep o'er the main and turn him from his way. man's wisdom can not know the end, nor future courses see: whoever sails in human strength sails mid uncertainty. man has a strong inveterate foe, so subtle in his art; he tries the strength of human craft and finds the weakest part. by human strength man can not sail o'er ocean's troubled breast: god's hand alone can e'er prevail and bring him into rest. mortality. in plant, animal, and spiritual life mortality is greatest in infancy. the plant in the first few days of its existence is very tender and delicate. it will succumb to the winds if they be slightly too cool, or to the sun's rays if they be too warm. the smallest insect feeding upon one of its tiny roots will cause it to die. after it has formed more roots and they have gone deeper into the earth and the plant becomes stronger and coarser it is far less liable to destruction. the chilly winds may blow or the sun's rays may pour upon it; it now has the power of resistance, and so lives on. the same is true of animal life. mortality is far greatest among children in the first few hours of life, and lessens as they grow older. only a slight current of cold air upon the newly born infant is likely to cause its death. the new life is not yet able to resist opposing elements, so it must be carefully guarded. as it grows stronger and becomes capable of adapting itself to the elements of the outside world it can with comparative safety be brought into contact with them. what is true in the plant and the animal world is also true in the spiritual world. you who have but recently been born of the spirit are not as able to resist the cold winds of persecution or the heat of fiery trials as those who have been deepening and widening in the grace of god. guard carefully the new-born life of christ in your soul. seek an establishing grace in sanctification, and you will be strong in the lord and fully able to cope with the dark powers of sin, satan, and the world, and triumph over all in jesus' name. in the days of your infancy we offer you our help in this little volume, and assure you a frequent remembrance in fervent prayer. feeding the lambs. some years ago when attending to the work to which the lord had called me in one of the sunny southern states it was my happy privilege to enjoy for a few days the kind hospitality of a generous christian farmer. one balmy afternoon while walking over the pleasant fields of his large farm, with my heart in sweet communion with god, i came upon the most beautiful flock of sheep it had ever been my privilege to behold. they were quietly grazing in a rich green pasture, near by which silently flowed a deep, broad river. to me it was a fair reminder of the "still waters" the good shepherd gave promise to lead his sheep beside, and the "green pastures" he promised to make them to "lie down in." from beholding this beautiful fleecy flock i learned a lesson which i hope never to forget. the principal cause of their well-developed frame and handsome appearance was, they were _well cared for when they were lambs_. since then i have often remembered, and felt the import of, the command the savior so tenderly gave his shepherds--"feed my lambs." over and over has it in all its strength and beauty been breathed anew by the spirit in my soul, animating me to greater assiduity in caring for the precious lambs of his fold. and, thus, i shall prove my love to him by doing all i can in caring for his lambs. lambs need something more than feed; they must be sheltered from the cold wind and cruel storm. feed them ever so well, but if you expose them to the wintry storm, they will die. in john : the word _feed_ is translated from the same greek term as is the word _feed_ in the th verse; but in the th verse the word _feed_ is translated from an entirely different greek term. in this verse the greek does not mean simply to feed, but to protect, to shelter, to tend. the shepherd's duty is not only to feed the lambs, but also to guard them from the wolves that are seeking to devour them. who are christ's lambs. it is those who are young in christian experience whom the savior calls lambs. the shepherds that are to feed them are his ministers. a lamb is one of the most meek, tender, and tractable of all the young animals, and very fittingly represents one who has received the meek and tender spirit of christ. christianity in its nature is meek and mild. it converts the wolf into a lamb and the leopard into a kid. young christians are, therefore, beautifully spoken of as lambs, whose nature is mild and gentle. christ's lambs are those who have received into their hearts his lamb-like spirit. they are those whose hearts and souls have been touched and thrilled with the mildness and tenderness of divine life; those in whom the "hidden man of the heart" is robed in righteousness and adorned with "a meek and quiet spirit," which is precious before god. you might robe a wolf with a lamb's skin, but it would still be a wolf. a person may profess to be a christian: but unless he has a change of heart and affection; unless he has been made meek and gentle by the spirit of the lord coming into his heart, he is only a wolf, after all, and not of the savior's fold. jesus speaks of some who put on "sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves." by "wolves" he means men and women with wicked hearts. they profess to be christians; but in their hearts are envy, pride, hatred, jealousy, love of self, and love of the world. they may appear quite lamb-like in public life, but in their hearts no change has been wrought by the transforming power of god's grace. to be "jesus' little lamb" is not only to have a profession of christianity, but to have the heart cleansed by the blood of jesus from envy, pride, malice, love of the world, etc., and filled with meekness, gentleness, and love. a good old prophet in olden time, looking forward to when jesus should come to save people from their sins and speak peace to troubled hearts, said, "he shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom." when you were wandering in the deserts and mountains of sin, jesus, the true shepherd, came seeking for you, and now that you have given yourself to his loving care, always confide in him and yield to his guidance. ever keep your hand in his and follow where he leads, and your life will be full of joy and terminate at last where there will be pleasures forevermore. food for the lambs. of course, it is very important to know what foods are most conducive to the growth of lambs. the apostle to whom jesus gave the command "feed my lambs" has said to those lambs, "as new-born babes desire the sincere milk of the word that they may grow thereby." pet. : . milk is the aliment which the nature of the newly born infant demands. the infant instinctively receives it with a readiness. it is the natural and most proper food. it is the food above all others for the sustaining of life and the promotion of growth. so the glorious doctrines of the gospel are the natural and most proper food for the christian. the newly created life in the regenerated soul instinctively turns to the word of god for nourishment. it is the natural food for the new life. nothing else can be substituted for it and growth go on unhindered. without this food the christian will die. "man shall not live by bread alone," says the great shepherd, "but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of god." [illustration: "he shall gather the lambs with his arms and carry them in his bosom."] the christian has a twofold life: he has both physical life and spiritual life. as bread sustains physical life, so the word of god sustains spiritual life. i beseech you most earnestly, my dear young christian reader, to ever remember that you can no more live a spiritual life independently of the word of god than you can live a physical life independently of bread. if growth in grace is worth anything to you, and eternal blessedness in the sweet fields of heaven of any value, keep this ever in mind and act accordingly. as with the physical being, so it is with the spiritual. there must be appetite, eating, digestion, and assimilation, that the word of god may impart life. remember, it is the sincere milk of the word that you need that you may grow thereby. sincere is from the latin _sincerus_, which is derived from _sine_, meaning without, and _cera_, meaning wax; honey separated from the wax. milk to which has been added chalked water may yet have much the appearance of milk, but it has lost its nourishment. so the word of god with the slightest adulteration will not meet the demands for spiritual growth. the word of god, without modification or exaggeration, without taking from or adding to, is the only wholesome food for your soul, and may you "eat in plenty" and "grow up as calves of the stall." on fruit bearing. the following beautiful language is found in isa. : : "for the lord shall comfort zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like eden, and her desert like the garden of the lord; joy and gladness shall he found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody." zion is a metaphor signifying the church of god. it is, therefore, the church which the lord will comfort and whose wilderness will be made an eden. but what is the church of god? this is a very important question; one which all people should fully understand, and one which is very easily answered. you will learn at once by reading eph. : , and col. : , that the church is the body of christ, and in cor. : we are plainly told that christians are the body of christ; they are, therefore, the church of god. dear reader, if you are a christian, you have been born of the spirit; you have passed from death unto life; you have been translated from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light; you have been created anew; you are, therefore, a member of the body of christ, and all such members make up the church of god. the children of israel were the church of god in the old dispensation, and he dwelt in a tabernacle or temple they built for him. in this more glorious gospel dispensation those who have been born of the spirit and made pure in heart are the church of god. in this holy-spirit dispensation we do not build temples for the lord to dwell in; for "know ye not that ye are the temple of god, and that the spirit of god dwelleth in you?" cor. : . "what? know ye not that your body is the temple of the holy ghost which is in you, which ye have of god, and ye are not your own?" cor. : . in this blessed gospel day christians are the "habitation of god through the spirit." if you are a christian, god dwells in your heart; your body is his glorious temple. this is a most stupendous thought, but it is true. in your soul is the sweet heavenly manna, the budding rod, and the ark of the covenant overshadowed by the cherubim of glory. when god created man he placed him in a garden which he had planted eastward in eden. in this garden god made to grow every tree that was pleasant to the sight and good for food; also, the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil were in this garden, and a river to water it. it is said that god "walked in the garden in the cool of the day." that was in the day of literal things. we are now in the day of spiritual things, when our bodies have become the temple of god through the spirit, and our hearts his lovely garden. it is in this garden he dwells; it is there he walks. see cor. : . when the south winds blow and the spices flow out he comes into his garden to eat his pleasant fruits; he gathers the myrrh and the spices, he eats honey and drinks wine and milk. see cant. : and : . this is sweet language, and is expressive of the purity of the christian heart, where god dwells, and where he walks in the gentleness of his spirit, delighting himself in the tender christian graces that are budding and blooming all along the peaceful avenues of the soul. like as the gentle south wind blows upon the flowers of the garden and scatters the fragrance; so the spirit of god fans the heavenly graces implanted in the heart, and a fragrance flows out of the christian life, awaking admiration in the minds of all who come into its presence. the trees that were pleasant to the sight and good for food in the literal garden of eden symbolize the graces of the regenerated heart, which are lovely to behold, which feed the souls of those who look upon your noble christian walk, and which become a "tree of life" to the desert hearts of men. in the garden of the lord blooms the rose of sharon and the lily-of-the-valley. these are beautiful emblems of the christ-life in the christian soul. the river which flowed through eden's literal garden represents the deep, broad river of peace which flows in the heart which has tasted of redeeming love. a young heart filled with the mild, meek spirit of christ, and a young life laden in rich profusion with kind words, generous deeds, and gentle, modest ways, is the most beautiful object that ever graced this mundane sphere. angels look down and marvel, and throughout all heaven is awakened songs of joy and praise. it is your privilege to be filled with jesus now; to be clothed in white and walk in purity. it is also your privilege as you journey down life's way to grow more kindly; to be more and more like jesus; for the sweet graces of heaven to bloom more beautifully in your heart and life; and the beauty of your young christian life to give way to more beauteous ripened age. if you attend to all christian duties and live in prayer and devotion to god, your soul will become more and more weighted down with the riches of heaven, and, looking out through the casement, your soul will hail with joy the convoy that has come to bear it to its home of eternal rest. the savior in speaking of himself said, "i am the vine," and in speaking of christians he said, "ye are the branches," and speaking of god he said, "my father is the husbandman." this very clearly and strikingly illustrates the duty of a christian, and the position he occupies. christians sustain the same relation to christ that the branches do to the vine. as the branch receives life through the vine and bears fruit, so the christian receives life through christ and bears fruit. the object of fruit bearing is the glory of god. you should be desirous of bearing as great an abundance of fruit as possible, and do all you can to increase your fruitfulness, since "herein is god glorified, that you bear much fruit." the apostle paul in speaking of christians said, "ye are god's husbandry," cor. : . if you will examine the greek text you will find that a more proper rendering would be, "ye are god's field." greek scholars tell us that the greet term from which husbandry is translated in our common version signifies a cultivated field. it answers to the hebrew word _sadeh_, which means a field sown and under cultivation. from this you will be enabled to yet more fully understand the true position you occupy under god. you are his fertile field, where he has under cultivation the precious fruits of the kingdom of heaven. the husbandman has rooted up every plant that he has not planted, and sown there the seeds of righteousness. not only are your hearts the "garden of the lord" where blooms the "rose of sharon" and the "lily-of-the-valley" in all the sweetness of their fragrance and beauty, but they are also the lord's fertile field, where the amiable christian graces are to bud, bloom, and bear fruit. your duty as a christian is to bear fruit for god, that he may be glorified. every fruit-bearing branch, therefore, he purges, that it may bring forth more fruit. the successful farmer carefully removes all the foreign growth out of his field, and then cultivates his plants, that he may reap the greatest possible harvest. delicious fruits are brought from the tropical clime to this land of ours, and they awaken in our hearts an admiration for that delightsome country. we long to travel through those sunny lands. you are god's fertile field. in your life has been placed the beautiful fruits of the heavenly land. as this world looks upon your life and beholds these fruits admiration will be awakened in their hearts for the fruitful fields of heaven. they will be influenced by your life to seek the kingdom of god and its riches, that they may taste of its fruits now and forever. if you will walk with god and live devoted to him, those precious fruits of the spirit will become more plentiful and beautiful in your life as you journey down the way, making you a greater blessing to the hearts of others. to this end you must live. a gazing-stock. in heb. : it is said that christians are a gazing-stock. the world is looking upon your life. you have taken upon you the profession of christianity. if you live a pure and holy life, god will be honored; others gazing at you will see that christ lives in you, and many will give to god the glory. you must be willing to be gazed at by the world. you must let your light shine. your holy life will be a savor of life or a savor of death unto those before whom you live. so do not think you are living to no purpose. some one is looking on every day, and if you will walk uprightly, it will tell for god. what a privilege you have of living a life that god will use to the salvation of some and to the condemnation of others! you must be interested in living a pure, clean life, and live your very best each day, so that you will not be ashamed before god to be a gazing-stock for the world. the will. among the different faculties which god gave to man in his creation is one called the _will_. it is because you have this faculty that you become a responsible being. before the first man and woman in the garden of eden god placed two laws--one was the law of obedience, and the other, the law of disobedience. these were subject to their choice. they could will to obey god and live forever, or will to disobey and die. before all men are placed two ways--one is called the way of life, and the other, the way of death. these are subject to their choice. therefore, the will is called that faculty of the soul by which we choose or refuse things. the will is capable of cultivation. by the exercise of your will you can refuse to do wrong things, and thus strengthen your will-power. men have attained extraordinary heights of morality by the exercise of the will in right-doing and refusing to do wrong. this is noble and beautiful, but there is something more noble still and more beautiful. the moral man wills to do right because it is right, while the christian wills to do right because it is the will of god and pleases him. although man can not by the exercise of his will-power in right-doing evolve into a christian, the will plays an important part in the formation of christian character. it is true, the will is most usually led by the affections of the heart; therefore the writer of proverbs said, "out of the heart are the issues of life." the heart must, however, get consent of the will before its desires are fulfilled. here is a truth of vast importance to the christian. many people's wills have become so in bondage to the impure affections and desires of their depraved hearts that they have no will to do right and shun the wrong. the desires of the heart sway their scepter of power over the will, and it acts to the granting the heart its wishes. this is a sad picture. a human being created to be free, but now a wretched slave. when he wills to do good evil is present with him; the good he would do, he does not do; and the evil he would not do, that is what he does. o miserable man! a person who has rejected the mercy of god and has yielded to the inclinations of an unholy heart until he has no power to accept the offers of mercy and shun the ways of sin, is an object of the greatest pity. to him there is no hope of escaping the damnation of hell. there is a time in the life of every rational young man and woman when they can accept the blessed offers of salvation which god extends through his son, if they will. god gives the holy spirit to operate upon the depraved heart, making it to feel something of the realities of a savior's love and goodness, and something of the awfulness of sin. the holy spirit does not take hold upon the will and compel it to serve god, or force it into right action. he just takes hold upon the heart, suppressing its love for sin, and awakening desires for a better life, thus removing the unrighteous scepter the heart swayed over the will, giving the will freedom and power to accept or reject the mercies of god. while the impure affections and unholy desires of a depraved heart are being restrained by the power of the holy spirit, before the will is set the way of life and the way of death, each subject to choice. now is the time for whosoever will to come and drink of the water of life freely, and whosoever will now call upon the name of the lord shall be saved. not only does the will act an important part in securing the salvation of the soul through the offered mercies of god, but it is the purpose of god that the will act an important part all along the christian way. after the christian enters through the "strait gate" and steps out upon the "narrow way" that leads to eternal golden glories, he is not carried forward in a "chariot of fire" through the journey of life and crowned at the end with eternal blessedness irrespective of his will. often it is true that the soul is carried blessedly onward in the way of life on the wings of joy, without any apparent exercise of the will; but how often good seems to have deserted or forsaken us, joy has hid her smiling face, and good feelings have departed, and we are left to serve god and attend to our christian duties from choice of will. god wants our life service to be a willing service. it is necessary, therefore, that he apparently forsake us and permit dark powers to engage us. it is that our wills may be exercised. the psalmist says, "i _will_ go the way of thy commandment; i _will_ keep thy testimonies," and let us all say amen. the blessings and joys the lord bestows upon us are the rewards of willing service, for which things you should be very thankful; but never let them influence you in your conduct toward god. there have been those, who, in the hour of seeming desertion, refusing to use their will-power, have turned back to the world. this is faint-heartedness and cowardice, ignobleness and unmanliness. every faculty of the body or soul that is unused or unexercised will weaken and die. the muscles if unused will grow weak, the mind if unused will weaken, and the will if unexercised will lose its power. should god always keep us soaring aloft on the wings of peace and joy and blessings, without the exercise of the will, this important faculty would degenerate into weakness and slavery. o may my young readers arise in the strength of their manhood and womanhood and use, in choosing and doing the right, the will god has given them. the tempter may come, yea, will come, and endeavor to get some of the affections of the heart set upon the world; but you must reject all such temptations, and by the force of your will set your affections on things above. god does never will for us, but he gives us power to will if we will but use the power he gives us. you are exhorted by the scriptures to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." the "crown of life" lies at the end of the christian race. when we step over the boundary between time and eternity our salvation is then eternally secured. praises be to god! it is for this crown of amaranthine glory, or blessed eternal salvation, that we are to watch and labor with fear and trembling. o may you be very careful! be watchful, lest something should hinder you in your christian race, and you miss at last the blessedness of heaven. guard the affections of your heart with the strictest vigilance. i said above that god would always give us power to will, if we would but make use of that power. for proof of this i shall refer you to phil. : , which in our common version is rendered thus: "for it is god which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." the meaning of this text is not so readily comprehended by this version as it is by some others. by conybeare and howson it is translated in these words: "it is god who works in you both will and deed." upon examination of the different translations we find the meaning of this text to be this: "it is god that gives us power _to will_ and _to do_ his good pleasure." in the verse preceding this one the apostle tells us to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling," and then he adds for our encouragement, "god will work in you the power _to will_ and _to do_ that which will secure your eternal salvation." never say, "i can't." here is something which will prove very valuable to you in your christian life if you can only get to fully comprehend it: you can do nothing; your will is powerless without god and his grace, and god can do nothing in you without the consent of your will. god does everything, and we do everything: we are to purify our hearts, and yet it is god who purifies our hearts; we are to make us a new heart, and yet it is god who gives us a new heart; we are commanded to work out our salvation, and god gives us power to do it. god furnishes the power; we are to do. do not think that god will act for you. he will give you power to act, but he will not do the act for you. do not, therefore, say, "i can't." you can do "all things" through christ, who strengthens you. you can serve god in a way acceptable to him; you can keep your mind stayed on him; you can pray; you can resist the devil and temptation and be an overcomer; you can endure unto the end--you can do "all things" by the grace and power of god, and he will always give you power to do his pleasure. do not serve and praise god only when he gives you blessings and joy, but serve him and praise him when the way is dark. have a fixed decision of the will to serve god no matter what the feelings may be. be thankful to god for the will-power he has given you, and use it manfully, nobly in his service. do not cower and tremble before temptation. you are to "fear and tremble" before god, but never before trials, temptations, sin, nor the devil. god will cause you to triumph by giving you power to will. be steadfast, be faithful, fix your will unswervingly to serve god, and in due season you shall reap if you faint not. god our guide. this is a dark world of sin, error, and uncertainties. it is weak and transitory. man, god's chief and highest work in the things of creation, is weak, ignorant, and can of himself do absolutely nothing. though he may have a most scholarly mind, he can not peer with any degree of certainty one hour into the future. who knows what the morrow may have in store? life may run about the same as to-day, or fortune may come, or misfortune. man may plan for the future, but the plan may never be carried into effect. it is not in man to direct his way. there is one, however, that knows all future things and shapes the destiny of man. we are invited to commit our way unto him. he has promised to guide us with his eye. life lies before us like an unknown sea, none know how many days' journey it is across, nor how much sunshine and shadow there may be on the way. with the unknown expanse before me, and i, in my ignorant finiteness, not knowing which way to take, rejoice exceedingly in my heart to be permitted to commit my way unto him who makes the clouds his chariots, and rides upon the wings of the wind, and stills the wave. he knows the best way and will direct in tender care my every step. he guides me with his eye, and leads me by his own right hand beside the still waters and into green pastures. why are there so many anxious hearts, so much unrest, so many discontentments and fears? it is because man is attempting to direct his own way. he feels his weakness, and fears; he knows his ignorance, and becomes anxious. how blessed to walk out upon life's way trusting in god and casting every care upon him! the waves may sometimes dash around our feet, but we are looking up unto him who shall guide us continually. the secret of a happy and successful life is to let god lead us. when we get in a hurry and pass on ahead of the lord, devising, contriving, planning over our work and way, then come fears and failures. many christians find it difficult to know the will of god and understand his leadings. many hearts are longing to know god's will and way. you may always know. do not hurry, only wait, pray and trust, and god will plainly and unmistakably teach you his way and give you a sweet consciousness in your soul of his guidance. sometimes it may require long waiting. i have for months been almost daily praying and sometimes rising a great while before day to seek god beneath the stars to know his will in a certain matter. sometimes it seems i must act, but god whispers in sweet stillness, "only wait." the word our guide. in many affairs of life we need no guidance other than the word of god. "thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." psa. : . much reading of the scripture will impart wisdom and knowledge, and be a help to us in directing the affairs of life. you may have a difficult matter to settle with your neighbor. open your bible and read: "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." quite likely this will enable you to settle the matter in perfect satisfaction to all. some one may have done you much harm, now what must you do? open your book of guidance and read: "dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves ... vengeance is mine; i will repay, saith the lord." thus, much of life's duties and affairs can be determined and decided by the word of god. the spirit's impressions. the holy spirit is given us for a guide. with respect to our conduct and our duty, we often feel the impressions of the spirit. the word of god tells us to give of our goods as the lord has prospered us, but the spirit may often impress us as to where to give. we feel impressed by the spirit to give, we feel impressed to go to a certain place, we feel impressed to pray for such a one, we feel impressed to fast and pray, etc. many a precious soul that once was full of joy and fatness is to-day in unrest and leanness because these impressions have been resisted. but are there not impressions given by an evil spirit? most certainly, and these impressions have led many an honest soul into the wildest of fanaticism. thank god, by living very humble, with all our motives very pure, and by acquaintance with the word of god, we may know the voice of the spirit of god and that of the evil spirit i have known people to receive and obey impressions to fast and pray that were given by satan. god's word and god's spirit favor fasting and praying, but both are bounded by sound judgment; and in such matters we should not follow a spirit beyond what common sense would approve. it is blessed and beautiful to be led by the spirit of god. if its impressions are not resisted, but encouraged by cheerful obedience, they will lead us into a blessed felicity with god and a deep acquaintance with him. an evil spirit's whisperings can be very easily detected by one who has much communion with the lord. recently while standing on a steamer's deck it was whispered to me that the steamer was an ill-fated vessel, and that i never should see home again. at first i did not know but that it was the voice of god, but soon i felt attempts being made to cast over me a tormenting fear; this aroused my suspicion that it was not god speaking, and to be convinced i allowed the spirit to talk on. for a while it tried to torment me with fears that i should never see the dear ones at home again, and then said, "you may as well cast yourself overboard into the deep." ah! now i knew the satanic spirit and i rebuked it in jesus' name. i reached my home in safety. praise the lord! try the spirits by the word; satan will soon expose himself. god's providences. in the sure guidance of god we have his word and his spirit and also his providences. again, we would say, oh, how blessed to await the providences of god! his providences are always in favor of the righteous. "all things work together for good to them that love god." how many can look back through their lives and see how the providences of god have directed their ways. they may have planned, but god's providence overthrew and brought better things to pass. trust in the providences of god, commit your way unto him, patiently wait, and he will guide you into the way that is best. never get in a hurry, but wait on the lord, and he will always make the way plain before you. i have learned never to take a step until i know it is ordered of god. in the providence of god, joseph was sold to a company of ishmaelites and cast into prison and thus brought to be ruler over all egypt. in the providences of god, kish's asses went astray and saul being sent in search of them was led to the prophet samuel, who anointed him king over israel. you may meet with losses, all things may seem decidedly against you; but be patient, trust in the providence of god, and in time you will see his kind favor. if you value your happiness and success in life, wait on god. if you do not know which way to go or what thing to do, wait until you do know. god will surely guide you; he will open the way clear and plain before you. when he has given you full assurance, then go forward in all security. mountains may rise before you, but he will pluck them up and cast them into the sea. rivers and seas may lie across your path, but he will divide the waters and let you pass through. live humbly and only for the glory of god. trust in him with all the strength of your soul. see that all motives are as pure as heaven. prayerfully seek a knowledge of god's will, patiently wait on him, cheerfully and promptly obey when his will is known, and he will lead you in the path of security, strewing the way with blessings and glory, and make your life one golden gleam of light across this dark world to lead others to the lamb. fragrance. every saintly life on earth, is a sweet fragrance unto god, and every sinful life is a stench in his nostrils. as the rose scents the evening air, so a pure life scatters a sweet christian influence and a knowledge of god throughout the world. the literal translation of cor. : reads thus: "but thanks be to god, who leads me on from place to place in the train of his triumph, to celebrate his victory over the enemies of christ, and by me sends forth the knowledge of him, a stream of fragrant incense, throughout the world." a saintly life diffuses a sweet, heavenly fragrance throughout the world, and brings a knowledge of god and the nature of his salvation to the minds of men. let me exhort you, therefore, to a pure life, a life full of devotion and reverence to god. you can make your life, by god's grace, a constant, flowing stream of fragrant incense, whose sweetness will linger long on the air after you have passed to higher realms. so may it be. seek first the kingdom. "but seek ye first the kingdom of god, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." mat. : . an injunction of much importance is here given. verses to of this chapter show how beautifully it is in the plan of god to care for his own. we are taught to have our trust in god for what we eat, for what we drink, for what we wear--for all the necessities of this life. we are referred to the fowls of the air and the lilies of the field, which take no thought for their life, but live in their happy, independent way, without care or trouble. these god cares for and says we are of more value than they. what a valuable lesson we are to learn from this! but is it really true that we are to have the same degree of freedom from care or anxiety that the fowls or the lilies have? we shall also ask, is it really possible? this lesson surely teaches that we are to have such a trust in our maker, and therefore it must be possible. the apostle paul instructs us in phil. : , "be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto god." and in another place, "i would have you without carefulness." our lives are to be free from worry or anxiety about anything and everything. this feature alone of the divine life, or this principle alone in the economy of god's gracious plan, ought to represent salvation as a thing greatly to be desired. but in the face of this people fail to see anything desirable in it, because by their unbelief they hold such a life to be impracticable. by this kind of unbelief the enemy of souls deprives many of their privileges in christ and hinders the world from seeing the real nature of the salvation experience. how the world is estranged from the principles of righteousness! how it holds light to be darkness and darkness to be light! instead of accounting that there is any reasonableness in such trust in god as is shown in this lesson they would fain be selfishly taking upon themselves the responsibility of maintaining their own existence, and thus every one seek for his own gain. thinking that they thus have an excuse for not devoting their time to god's service and their spiritual welfare, the things of the lord are forgotten and neglected, and their souls consequently are lost. when will individuals learn that they have a spiritual as well as a physical existence, and that the spiritual is the more important of the two? seek first the kingdom. but the fact that we wish to bring out most prominently is that many christian professors, who are supposed to be examples of the christian life, do not comprehend the import of the test "seek ye first the kingdom of god." the mistake is made on the word _first_. they think to obey this scripture by first gaining the profession of salvation, presuming then that the blessings of the kingdom will follow, while they live as selfishly as before and dig deep into the things concerning the unrighteous mammon. in so doing they fail to experience the blessings of the kingdom, and also misrepresent the kingdom to the world. the word _first_ means not only first in time, but first in _importance_; and this idea of _importance_ must ever be held before us, not only when we enter the kingdom, but throughout our whole christian life. we are to hold the kingdom of righteousness _first_ in all our lives. if we hold god first in everything and consider what will be to his glory before we consider our own, we give god a chance to fulfil his word, and his own good pleasure in us will be accomplished. we then place ourselves in the order of his plan where it will be possible for him to do as he has promised. the salvation life means an unselfish life. we are not to seek selfish glory in anything, but seek the glory of god _first_--above everything else. it has been remarked concerning certain ones who were struggling for an earthly existence, that if they would only get saved "all these things" (all earthly necessities) would be added unto them. but it is not those who merely get saved that can claim this promise; it is those who _keep saved_ and carry out the principles of the plan of righteousness. "seek first the kingdom of god and his righteousness" in everything. lose your own individuality in god, consign your all to him, live for his glory in all your life, then "all these things shall be added unto you." prayer. upon this subject and the one following i have written in other works very similarly to this; but since these subjects are so well adapted to a work of this nature i can hardly feel willing to leave them out. if you have read very similar words to these in other productions of mine, i hope the rereading of the subjects will not be time spent to no profit. the value of prayer can hardly be estimated. unless you are willing to take up a life of prayer and keep it until the close, you had just as well not take up the christian profession. without prayer you will die. some one has expressed it thus: "prayer is our life, our soul's triumphant wings, the arm that holds the shield and hand that takes the crown; along the line on which a thousand faithful prayers ascend, surely god doth send ten thousand blessings down." what an honor it is to have audience with the king of glory! he extends the golden scepter to us, and we come hopefully, confidingly, into his presence and tell him all that is in our hearts. it is only because we comprehend something of his great love to us that we venture to come into his presence. who would not consider it a great honor and blessed privilege to be admitted into the courts of the lords and the kings of earth? the greatest honor bestowed upon man is the privilege of coming into the presence of god and conversing with him. alas! how few appreciate the privilege of prayer! how few can properly estimate its true worth! jesus by his example has taught us something of the worth of prayer. his rising a great while before it was day to hold communion with the father, and his spending all night in prayer to him, teach us something of its importance. if it was necessary for jesus to spend so much time in prayer, how much more necessary for us. prayer is the energy and life of the soul. it is the invincible armor which shields the devoted christian from the poisoned missles shot forth from the batteries of hell. it is the mighty weapon in his hand with which he fights life's battles unto victory. he who lives in prayer reigns triumphant. his soul is filled with the peace of heaven. power is given him over sin and the world. by prayer all storm-clouds are driven away, mountains of discouragement are cast into the sea, chasms of difficulties are bridged, hope is given wings, faith increases, and joys abound. hell may rage and threaten, but he who is frequent and fervent in prayer experiences no alarm. by prayer the windows of heaven are opened, and showers of refreshing dews are rained upon the soul. it is as a watered garden, a fertile spot where blooms the unfading rose of sharon and the lily-of-the-valley; where spread the undecaying, unwithering branches of the tree of life. by prayer the soul is nourished and strengthened by the divine life. do you long for deeper joys? for a greater sense of the divine fulness? for a sweeter balm of hope to be shed upon your soul? for a closer walk with god? then live much in prayer. do you desire to feel the holy flame of love burning in all its intensity in your soul? then enkindle it often at the golden altar of prayer. without prayer, the inner being will weaken, famish, and die; the fountain of love dry up; the spring of joy cease to flow; the dews will fail to descend; and your heart will become a parched and dreary desert waste. look upon the character of jesus. behold his lowliness, his meekness, gentleness, and tender compassion. have they any beauty? and would you love to have them grace your own soul? then draw them down from the skies in all their glorious fulness by the fervent prayer of faith. as through the process of assimilation food is transformed into an active, living being; so through the medium of prayer the character of jesus in all its transcendent beauty and glory becomes the character of man. if you desire victory during the day, begin it with prayer. not a few hurried words, but minutes of deep, intimate communion with god. linger at the sacred altar of prayer until you feel particles of glory drop in richness into your soul, scattering sweetness throughout the whole and relating you to the world above. in the early morning hour, when the still, balmy breath of nature plays around, let your soul fly away on the wings of prayer with its message of love and praise to its maker. jesus went out a great while before day to hold communion with god. there is no time better suited for prayer. the world is hushed in slumber. there is less sin being committed, and if the world ever is innocent, it is in the early morning time. we thus get an advantage of the devil and have sweet converse with god before the devil is aware. if you desire to be more deeply and sincerely pious, seek it in prayer. if you desire heights in god's love, depths in his grace, fulness in his joy, richness in his glory, seek it in prayer. did you say you had not time for prayer? what a pity! your happiness and usefulness in life depend upon it; your eternal welfare depends upon it--then, oh, what a pity you have no time for it! but you must find time. you can not afford to listen to satan; there is too much at stake. this is an excuse that many allow satan to make for them. time for rest, time for eating, time for sleeping, time for friends, time for books; but no time for prayer. this is a device of satan to rob souls of the love of god. you must not give him such an advantage of you. in love for your spiritual welfare i beseech you in jesus' name, live much in prayer. go often into your closet, and then, with the loins of your mind girded up, in all earnestness of soul pray until the love of god and the light of heaven fills your being. satan will try to make you listless and indifferent; he will try to make your thoughts to wander; he will tell you of many other things that need to be done that very moment; and many other things will he tell you to deprive you of the blessings of prayer. but you must resist him and go the more earnestly in prayer; and continue to pray until a rapture from the skies sweeps over your soul, making the place of prayer the dearest spot on earth to you. when the shades of night come softly stealing, softly stealing o'er the window sill; when the busy day is slowly ending, slowly ending peacefully and still,-- christian, with thy heart adoring heaven, sweetest glories falling from above, go to god in secret, silent pleading, tell to him the wondrous tale of love. when the morning light is gently dawning, gently dawning in the eastern sky; when the darkness fast away is fleeing, duties of the day are drawing nigh,-- down before the sacred, hallowed altar, christian, bow before thy god in fervent prayer, giving thanks to him for life's sweet blessings, for the day imploring his kind care. to be overcome to-day makes to-morrow's battles harder. if you would be a better christian to-morrow, live your very best to-day. like as the warming rays of the autumn's sun melt the early frost, so the warmth of christian love in our hearts will melt the coldness in the hearts of sinful men. begin the day with prayer: it will fortify you against the tempter's power. the result of neglecting prayer is to be tossed furiously about upon the billows of temptation. time is of too great worth to waste one precious moment. an hour lost is that much of life lost. for all the time spent in idleness, you had just as well not have lived at all. by rightly using each moment you will build up a character that will stand a monument upon the tomb of the dead past. moments misspent are life and character gone, and no imprint is left on the hearts of men to tell that we have lived. how many golden moments are flying away into eternity unladen with any fruit from your life? learn to value time. redeem it because these days are evil. seize upon each passing moment, and send it up to the glorious author of time laden with golden deeds. meditation. the scriptures invite christians on to greater depths in the love of god and greater heights in his joy as they journey on through life. it is the will of god that you grow in grace and become more spiritual each day of your life. that meditation does affect one's spirituality is an undeniable fact. meditating upon god and his law is an excellent means of increasing spiritual life in the soul. vagrant thoughts dull the finer sensibilities of the spiritual being, thereby rendering it less capable of impression by the holy ghost. "keeping in touch with god" is an expression much used in these days by people professing holiness, but what does it imply? we are all at sea when not in touch with him. to be so kept is to have everything in us fully alive to god. every christian grace must be in a perfect state of health and vigorous growth. if there be any dwarfed condition of the spiritual being in any part, it will be less sensible to god's touch. the blind have been known to cultivate the sense of touch in the physical being to the amazing acuteness of being able to distinguish between colors. the sense of touch in the soul can by careful, earnest cultivation be refined to such a degree as to make it susceptible to the slightest impressions of the spirit of god. by an electric cable america is brought in touch with europe. were this to become divided, communication would cease. sin divided the life-giving cable from the presence of god to the souls of men. in jesus the divided cable is taken up and united, and man brought into communion with god. so cultured may become the sensibilities of the inner being, and so thoroughly impregnated by god's enlivening power, that one empty thought causing the slightest ebbing of life's current flow is keenly felt. to keep in perfect touch with god is to live where there is a soul-consciousness that he is pleased with every act of your life, and where there is a clear, definite witnessing of the spirit to your inmost soul that the words of your mouth and the meditations of your heart are acceptable unto him. useless thought makes the soul coarse, and difficult of impression by good influences. pure and holy meditations are an excellent means for the refinement of your moral being. praying to god is talking to him, telling him the desires of the heart; whereas meditating upon god is contemplating his goodness, love, mercy, greatness, and wonderful works. meditation prepares the heart for that deeper communion with god called prayer. whoever gives attention to his meditations, and has learned to fix his mind upon god; to whom "day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge;" to whom "the heavens declare the glory of god," and who hears god's voice in nature and sees the goodness of his hand in all creation,--finds no difficulty in drawing to god in prayer. if you allow your mind to wander vaguely about upon the vanities of the world, you will find prayer a difficult and rather an unpleasant task. learn, therefore, i beseech you, to stay your mind upon the lord, and great will be the peace and quietness of your soul. precious moments spent in idle chit-chat with your companions or indulging vagrant thoughts are time worse than wasted. as your mind acts once, so it is disposed to act again. the mind forms habits of thinking. then, how careful you should be to direct it in proper and useful channels. [illustration: thinking of the life beyond.] some people have found it difficult to prevent their thoughts from wandering while they were reading the bible or in secret prayer. the wonderful works of god hardly awaken any admiration within them; they can not elevate the soul into a profound awe before his awful presence, and there is but little conscious depths of inner reverence and devotion to his name. there is a blessed and sure remedy for this serious trouble. carefully watch your meditations. call the oftener upon god in some silent, secret place. select some secluded, hallowed place, where nature is most inspiring for meditation. isaac, the son of abraham, went into the field at eventide to meditate. the evening is a time well suited to draw the soul out into deep, intimate communion with god. the the setting of the sun is a reminder of life's setting sun. you will be brought face to face with the fact that you must some day stand before him who created all things. your meditations will become serious. oh, may you adore the creator, and learn to admire his wondrous works! go forth in the starry evening, when nature is most inviting, and through her let your soul adore the almighty, and let all within you be awed to solemn stillness at his footfall. idle, careless thoughts generate a stupidity that will rob you of joy. the sensibilities of your inner nature will become deadened, and you can no more hear the solemn footsteps of the lord, nor the whispers of his voice. meditating upon pure and holy things and seeing god in all, will elevate the soul to a plane all radiant with light and love, and put a meekness and modesty in your life and a sweet gentleness in every expression that will seem to make you akin to angels. are you concerned about the peace of your soul? is a happy life worth anything to you? do you have any desire to become more like jesus? do you want to do all you can for him? do you want to dwell in heaven with him forever? then let your meditation be upon him, and your soul sipping at the fountain of heaven's love as the flower drinks up the dew. i can not be too earnest in my exhortation to you in this matter. i know how important it is. i want to see you prosper and your soul increase in god; therefore i exhort you to meditate upon his law day and night. reverie. down beside the rippling river 'neath-the weeping willow-tree, viewing nature sweet and lovely, wond'ring what must heaven be. list'ning to the merry songsters in the near-by leafy world; such sweet music seems to bear me nearer to the gates of gold. breezes murm'ring through the branches, waters rippling o'er the stone, what, oh, what must be the anthem ringing round the great white throne? songs of birds and streamlet rippling, meadow, flowers, and leafy tree, make of earth a land of beauty-- what indeed must heaven be? if you love scenes of great grandeur, and to hear sweet music ring, come, oh! come with me to heaven, to the land where christ is king. a theater. a theater is a place where plays are performed before spectators. people go to such a place to witness the acts of men. the apostle paul says, "we are made a spectacle unto the world." cor. : . in the margin it reads "theater" instead of "spectacle." in conybeare and howson's translation this text reads thus: "to be gazed at in a theater by the world." you as a christian are here in this world on exhibition for god. he is the character you are to represent in life's great play. you must live in such a way as to do justice to his name. this world is looking on. god has written the entire play in his book. you have a life-time to play it in. if you will live in humble obedience to all the word of god, you will act your part well and faithfully represent his true character. rest of the soul. "come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and i will give you rest. take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for i am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." mat. : , . wonderful words of love and hope! never did a sweeter nor richer invitation than this reach mortal ears. a whole world of humankind groaning under a burden, tossing in unrest, laboring under pain, sighing with sorrow, roaming in discontent, filled with fear, sinking in despair. but one appears upon the scene and says, "come unto me, and i will give you rest." oh, may the humble followers of the lowly nazarene echo and reecho this invitation of love among the haunts of men as long as time shall last! amid a world of sin and trouble, a soul at rest; how blessed! you remember the day you came to him. your sins with all the burden of guilt were taken away and you found rest. later you dedicated yourself fully and forever to the lord and entered into the fulness of his rest. canaan's fair land is the soul's sweet home of rest. what heaven will be we can not know now. doubtless scenes and experiences will arise of such a nature as to greatly enhance the felicity of our hearts; but the revelation of heaven upon a sanctified soul and "the enjoyment of heavenly bliss e'en in a world like this" can never be told. storms will arise and threaten you; but if the cable of faith remains unbroken and the anchor of hope unshaken, your little bark can sail on sweetly at rest. doubts are very destructive to soul-rest; therefore they must be dispelled at their first approach. by faith your soul can be kept in the precious realization of heavenly enjoyments; you can have sweet walks with god and tastes of his love all along your journey of life. by living in the vale of humble submission to god, fully and freely yielded to his control, upon your soul the sweets of heaven's graces will be distilled like the gentle siftings of the evening dew upon the flower, transporting you to wondrous felicity in god all along your pilgrim way. behold the fowls of the air: they sow not, neither do they reap; yet kings have not more healthful fare, nor rest in calmer, sweeter sleep. they have no barns nor hoarded grain, yet all day long a soft, sweet strain they warble forth from forest tree; ever happy and ever free, teaching a lesson dear to me. so free from care, o sylvan band; fed by a heavenly father's hand. your freedom, o ye fowls of heaven, new courage to my soul hath given; i no more can doubt or sorrow: god will care for me to-morrow. behold the lilies how they grow: they toil not neither do they spin; yet kings in all their pomp and show are not arrayed like one of them; smiling and free in breezes sway, yet clothed by heavenly hand are they. meek lilies of the quiet fields, your growth instruction to me yields. the one who clothes the lily fair and gives it tender, earnest care-- will he not hear my fervent prayer? the one who notes the sparrow's fall-- does he not love his creatures all? if he so clothes each tuft and tree and gives the birds such liberty, will he not clothe and care for me? i no more can doubt or sorrow: god will care for me to-morrow. a merry heart is a continual feast. it is the will of god that you be always happy. if you are not contented with such things as you have, you would not be contented had you ever so much. those who are always contented and happy are a most gracious contribution from god to a discontented world. this sin-darkened world is dotted here and there by beautiful christian lives, which are to the world's weary wastes what the oasis is to the parched desert. the christian has the blessed privilege of proving to a covetous, discontented world that man can by the grace of god he contented under the most adverse circumstances. oftentimes people conclude that they would be happy if their surrounding circumstances were different. true happiness consists not so much in the environments, as in the dispositions of the heart. after a day of labor, what a pleasure it is to meet at home the warmth of hearts we love! after a life of toil, what will be the pleasure of meeting all the loved in heaven? i am told that the language of the algonquin indians of north america contained no word from which to translate the word _love_. when the english missionaries translated the bible into that language they were obliged to coin a word for love. what must be a language without love? and what must be the heart! the christian out upon life's sea can, by faith, hope, and love, weather the wildest storm that ever the winds of adversity blew. hope is the anchor fastened to the eternal word of god; faith is the cable attached to the anchor hope. [illustration: my pathway of life is now paved with peace, the flowers e'er bloom bright and gay; a halo of light is shed around me as i walk the beautiful way.] happiness of life. down, down in the depths of infinite love, filled with all the fulness of god, joy's cup ev'ry moment filled from above, as adown life's pathway i trod. no sin sways its scepter over my soul, god's righteousness fills ev'ry part, his fulness of glory keeping the whole, and i love him with all my heart. sing not to me of the pleasures of earth, i have found a much happier way; the joys of the lord, of far greater worth, are filling my life ev'ry day. sorrow and sighing have flown away, from trouble and care i am free, the peace of god over my heart holds sway; i am as happy as i can be. you are tempted, you say, and sorely tried; of that i have nothing to say, the victory is mine whate'er may betide; i'm happy each hour of the day. my pathway of life is now paved with peace, the flow'rs ever bloom bright and gay; a halo of light is shed around me as i walk the beautiful way. the hidden life. you have experienced a resurrection. you once were dead in sin; now you are alive unto god. you have been translated from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. you are a new creation; you have a new life. though you have existence in this world, yet the world does not discover your true life. with christ it is hid in god. the world knows nothing of you except as they see you in the life you live in the flesh. you have a higher life to which they are as insensible as the inanimate stone is to the life of the bird. you are one of god's "hidden ones," and a stranger on the earth, because you are unknown. you are not found in the halls of worldly pleasure, but instead are to be found by the bedside of the sick, reading the bible, praying, or speaking words of cheer and comfort, and the world wonders how you can enjoy yourself in such a way. you have a joy that is unknown to them, because you have a life that is hidden from them. that life of yours which is hid with christ in god finds no enjoyment in the pleasures of the world. when adversity comes the world does not understand how it is that you can rejoice; and when circumstances are very unfavorable, how you can be happy is a mystery to them. it is because you do not live in the things of the world, but in a much higher realm. if your life is hid with christ in god, your heart's longings will be for the things above; all your affections will be on things above. those who live upon earth are seeking the things of earth; but those who live above in god seek the things which are above. nothing of earth has any charms for them. christ has won their hearts. they love him intensely. they live in him. they are sojourning here upon earth for a time, but their hearts are with christ in heaven. their home, their love, their treasures, their hopes, their thoughts, their life,--all are there, and they are seeking with eagerness for more of that sweet, precious life which is from above. they walk here almost like one in a dream, as concerning this world; they know but little of earth, but much of heaven. this earth is not my home, i live above, where peace and joys abound-- sweet land of love. my life is hid in god with christ the son, though here on earth i am by earth unknown. i dwell in worlds above, by thought and prayer-- oh, blest eternal home! my heart is there. consciousness of god's presence. happy and blessed is the soul that is conscious of god's sweet indwelling presence. being conscious of god's presence is what the psalmist meant when he said, "o taste and see that the lord is good." "tasting god" is an expression incomprehensible to the unregenerate. those who have tasted him comprehend the meaning of this expression better than they can tell it. when a bit of sugar is placed upon the tongue there is experienced a sweetness in the sense of taste. when the soul tastes of god there is experienced a sweetness in the spiritual being. the sweetness of god's presence in the soul is as much more glorious than the sweetness of sugar to the taste as spiritual and heavenly things are above literal and earthly things. god and his word are inseparable, or the word is god; therefore when the psalmist says, "how sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth," it is in reality tasting the sweetness of god. the awakened soul thirsts for this sweetness of the divine presence. nothing else can satisfy it. the wealth and pleasure of the world do not contain a sweetness sufficient to satisfy the heart of man. it is only god that can fill the hungry soul with goodness. the divine life sheds peace and light and rest in the soul. man receives the divine presence into his spiritual being when he is quickened by the spirit. in the word of god it is termed "passing from death unto life," and "being born again." in sanctification when a revolution is effected in the nature of man and he becomes a partaker of the divine nature, it is then he is conscious of the fulness of the divine presence and is at rest. glory be to god! to possess the divine presence in its fulness is not the end of the christian race. there are certain conditions for man to meet in order to possess this glorious inheritance, and there are certain conditions for him to meet in order to retain it. not only is man able, in the economy of grace, to retain the sweet consciousness of the divine presence in the soul, but in his hands are placed instruments that enable him to cultivate and deepen this consciousness and thus add glory to glory and cause his way to shine more and more unto the perfect day. oh, how many christians would enjoy more of heaven's glory in their souls, if by careful cultivation they would increase the sense of the divine presence! dear pilgrim, have you reached the land of "eternal weights of glory" or the regions where "joy is unspeakable"? to cultivate or deepen the sense of the divine presence requires an almost constant effort. right at this point is where perhaps more christians have failed to do what was required of them than at any other; and consequently experience less joy and power than formerly. there are many things employed by satan to weaken this consciousness of god. looseness of thought, moments of idleness, or yieldings to self, serve to weaken the reverential feeling in our hearts toward him. a little attention to the world, a little thought for the morrow, a little anxiety, a little too much talking,--these things destroy the consciousness of the divine presence in the soul, and rob us of spiritual power and rest. living before god in prayer, holy and pure thoughts, the entertaining of right feelings toward god and man, acts of benevolence and self-sacrifice for the benefit of others, develop and fashion the soul more and more into the beauty of the divine life. it is the privilege of the saint so to walk in the presence of god and live in holy communion with him as to draw god's glory and life into his own, and give him a feature very distinguishing for ordinary natural man. if we wish to be like jesus and enjoy the sweet consciousness of his presence, we must live with him in prayer. as we improve the health and strength of our physical being by proper food and exercise, so we improve the strength and beauty of our spiritual being by proper meditation and prayer. reflection. how often when walking down the country lane in the twilight of a summer's evening you have looked upon the round, full moon and exclaimed, "what a tender, beautiful light! how soft and mellow is the glow!" but you must remember the light is not its own. of itself it is a cold, dark body. the great luminary that so recently sank behind the western hills is the real light. it pours its brilliant rays upon the moon and the moon reflects the sun's light upon your pathway. the moon, therefore, is only a reflector. you stand before a mirror and behold your face and form imaged in the glass. the glass acts as a reflector, reproducing the objects that are placed before it and shine upon it. the unregenerate heart is dark and reflects no light; but god can take it and cleanse, purge, and polish it, and make it capable of reflecting the virtues of heaven's grace. cor. : is rendered thus by conybeare and howson: "so now we see darkly, by a mirror; but then face to face." while here in this life we can not see the real and true glories of the eternal world; but we can see some of its beauties and glories mirrored in the face of nature and the bible. the starry worlds above us, the verdant hills, the swaying forests, the waving grain, the fleeting cloud, the blooming flower, dimly shadow forth the glory that awaits our expectant souls in that bright world where angels dwell. the greek text of cor. : is beautifully rendered in these words by the above mentioned translators: "with face unveiled we behold in a mirror the brightness of our lord's glory, are ourselves transformed into the same likeness; and the glory which shines upon us is reflected by us, even as it proceeds from the lord, the spirit." these words are full of grandeur to my soul. their wondrous beauty and sublimity can not fail to awaken admiration in every spirit-quickened and purity-loving heart. you will see, christian reader, the position you occupy as a follower of the lamb of god. you are a reflector; you have no light of yourself. god shines his glory upon you and you reflect it to the world, and thus you become the light of the world. in one translation "character" is used instead of "glory." god's character is shined into your soul, and you are to reflect it to the world. there is another clause in the above quotation too full of riches and too well adapted to this work to pass by unnoticed. it is this: "we behold in a mirror the brightness of our lord's glory, are ourselves transformed into the same likeness." we do not grow into salvation, neither do we grow into sanctification; but after we receive this glorious experience there is still a continual transforming into a more perfect likeness of christ. while in the museum of art in one of our large cities last spring i saw an artist reproducing on canvas a painting which hung upon the wall. i looked upon the painting on the wall and upon the reproduction before the artist. so far as i could see the reproduction was in exact imitation of the original; but the eye of the artist could see farther than mine. he kept on applying the brush, giving a slight touch here and a slight touch there, and soon i discovered that the features stood out in more perfect imitation. so let us stand before the original and let the holy spirit work in us that which is pleasing to god, and we shall be continually transformed into a more perfect likeness of god. this must be your daily life. attend strictly to every christian duty, be obedient to the word and spirit of god, and you will become more and more like him and your soul will be rich in grace. becoming. one translation has rendered phil. : in these beautiful words: "let your manner of life be becoming the gospel of christ." we speak of anything being becoming when it gives a good appearance. an article of clothing becomes you when it gives you a better or less awkward appearance. so your life is to be becoming to the gospel of christ. you are to live so that your life will make the gospel of christ more beautiful to the hearts of men. you can do this only by living just as the bible reads. all the precious truths of the bible are to read in your life just as they do in the bible, and thus your life will give a better appearance to god's word and make it more real and interesting to the unsaved. love of home. [illustration: a happy home.] there are but few sweeter words in the english language than the word _home_. i have thought the three sweetest words are _mother, home_, and _heaven_. home is the dearest place in all the world to the christian heart. to have a fond love for home is not at all injurious to christian character. those who have but little love for home will never succeed well in the christian life. it may sometimes occur that some of the home members are so disagreeable that the christian for peace' sake will quit the home roof; but he still loves home. sometimes young people think that to enjoy life they must get out from under parental rule and roof. we have an instance of this nature recorded in the bible. how soon we learn of the prodigal's longing for the comforts of home. how often he thought of his father's house, that place so dear to him now. the love of home is a high mark of integrity. show me one who has no love for home, and i will show you one who has but little true manhood or womanhood. the bible command to young christians is to be "chaste, keepers at home." when our duty and service to god demand our absence from home we submit and go in the strength of his grace, but lose not our love for home, and return in joy at father's will. you can nowhere find more of heaven upon earth than in a christian home. look at the picture: a father with the holy bible, the mother and children listening in reverence to the heavenly message. where, i say, can you find more of heaven? such a scene is most sweet and sacred. methinks the angels bend low to catch the chants of praise that arise from those devoted hearts to the gates of heaven. "such a picture," you may say, "is very beautiful and inspiring to look upon, but where is the reality?" thank god, such a home can be real in life, and it is your duty as a christian to help make it so. god is pleased with such a home. it is much to his praise. since such homes are so rare they are all the more glorifying to god, and we should strive the more earnestly to have them real. in your home is the place to shine for god. it is the place to shed forth the radiant beams of christian light from your grace-ladened soul. if you hope to prosper in the divine life, be your best at home. do not think you can be careless at home and then shine in the splendor of christian virtue when before the public. your life at home leaves its mark upon you. shine in christian beauty at home, and you will shine in beauty in public; but attempt away from home to be more than you are at home, and you will miserably fail. a few years ago while in one of our large eastern cities laboring for jesus and souls for whom he died i wrote a few lines to the dear ones at home, which perhaps will not be out of place to insert here. when the light of day is dying and the shades of night steal on, voices to my mem'ry whisper of the dear loved ones at home. ere the chandelier is lighted, ere the day's last ray is gone, o'er me comes a fond remembrance of the dear loved ones at home. far above in arch of heaven lamps are lighted one by one, but i only see the bright eyes of the dear loved ones at home. far away beyond the region where i see those shining stars, somewhere in the land of angels, dwells a little boy of ours. years ago one wintry evening heaven's gate was opened wide, and an angel swift descended, with a sickle at his side. paused he at our boy's low trundle in the evening twilight hour, caught away his happy spirit to its home beyond the stars. how my heart adores the giver of all good o'er land and sea, but i praise him more than ever for the dear ones left to me. as i think of her he gave me in my happy youthful time, how he bound our hearts together at love's pure and sacred shrine; as i think of her this moment, given me by love divine, seems i almost feel the pressure of her gentle hand in mine. in the arms of night i'm folded, soon in dreamland i shall roam; then i'll go and see the dear ones-- see the dear loved ones at home. victory. when you are forgotten or neglected, or purposely set at naught, and you smile inwardly, glorying in the insult or the oversight, because thereby counted worthy to suffer with christ--that is victory. when your good is evil spoken of, when your wishes are crossed, your taste offended, your advice disregarded, your opinions ridiculed, and you take it all in patient, loving silence--that is victory. when you are content with any food, any raiment, any climate, any society, any solitude, any interruption by the will of god--that is victory. when you can lovingly and patiently bear with any disorder, any irregularity, any unpunctuality, or any annoyance--that is victory. when you can stand face to face with waste, folly, extravagance, spiritual insensibility, and endure it all as jesus endured it--that is victory. when you never care to refer to yourself in conversation or to record your own good works, or to itch after commendation, when you can truly love to be unknown--that is victory. when, like paul, you can throw all your suffering on jesus, thus converting it into a means of knowing his overcoming grace, and can say from a surrendered heart, "most gladly," therefore, do "i take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for christ's sake"--that is victory. cor. : - . when death and life are both alike to you through christ, and to do his perfect will, you delight not more in one than the other--that is victory, for, through him, you may become able to say, "christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death." phil. : . "death is swallowed up in victory." cor. : . the perfect victory is to "put on the lord jesus christ" and thus to triumph over one's self. rom. : . "in all things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." rom. : . the first love. you may wonder why we write so much about love. it is for the very best reason in the world. nothing is so great as love, and no way so excellent. it is difficult to bind people together where love is lacking. a religious people may resolve to live in peace and confidence with one another; but this they will find to be very difficult if there is a deficiency of love. love solves the problem; it removes every difficulty, and is the perfect bond of union. nothing can separate hearts that are full of love. love must be suppressed before division can be admitted. the most earnest exhortations and entreaties and the strongest reprovings fail to get men to attend to every christian duty where love is wanting; but it is not difficult to persuade men to obey god and do all they can to glorify him when they love him with all their hearts. there was much in the life of the angel of the church at ephesus that was praiseworthy; but something was lacking. he had left his first love. but, what is the first love? there is no difference between first love and last love if it be love. pure, genuine love is the same always--first, last, and all the time. the overseers of this church, and doubtless the church in general, had lost the ardor of the love which they had at the first. oh, the warmth, the sweetness, of first love! do you not remember it, dear reader? when you were so clearly and wonderfully born of the spirit of god, how ardent was the love in your heart! it thrilled you with delight. there was a delicious, sweet taste all through your soul. how gladly you would have taken wings and have flown away to the arms of him whom your heart loved. the word of god was to your soul like honeyed dew upon your lips. how delightful it was to labor for jesus! how preciously sweet to make the greatest sacrifices for his sake! and to go away into some secret place and pray was dearer to you than can ever be told. you found the greatest pleasure in attending to every christian duty. i should be glad if i could describe to you just what that first love was in your heart. i can not do this, neither can you; but you know how it felt, and how joyful was your soul. oh, blessed happy day, when your sins were washed away, and love sang its sweetest lay within your soul! now, if you do not have the same ardor; the same warmth; the same sweet relish for prayer, for the word of god, for a meeting; the same thrilling sense of sweetness in your soul; that same precious drawing toward god and toward the brethren; that same delight in laboring for jesus; that same joy and happiness in making sacrifices for him and for your fellow man: if you do not feel those symptoms of love as deeply and as delightfully, and if they are not in you as actively as they were at the first,--you are like the church at ephesus--you have left your first love. in wilson's excellent translation this text reads, "thou hast relaxed thy first love." they had lost the intensity of their first love. it had relaxed, or lost tension, and had become languid. it does not matter to what you testify, or who you are, if you have not the same ardor and deep intensity of love that you had at the first, you have relaxed love. do not deceive yourself. do not make any excuses. there is no necessity of losing this fervency of love. the leaping, thrilling, bounding love can be kept in the full blaze of its intensity in your soul as long as you live. i can never encourage a cessation of love. no matter what the circumstances, we can increase and abound more and more in love. you may have works, you may have labor, you may have patience; so did the church at ephesus; but they had relaxed their first love. see to it, o beloved, that you do not lose the deep fervency of love. keep it burning in all its brightness and warmth; and the works and labor and patience are sure to follow. but do not let your works, and labor, and patience deceive you. see that there is an underlying principle of love in all you do. if your works and labor and patience be devoid of love, there will be a secret desire in your heart to attract attention, and a longing for a bit of praise. but if all is done in purest sincere godly love, the joy you will find in doing is a full and sufficient reward. and, may the lord give you understanding. the little foxes. one little fox is, "_some other time_." if you track him up, you come to his hole--_never._ another little fox is, "_i can't."_ just set on him a plucky little "_i can_," and he will kill him for you. another bad little fox is, "_just a little_" pride, self-will, worldly conformity, etc. that little mischief will strip the whole vine if left go. another malignant little fox is "_i haven't faith."_ he slips into the vineyard through a knot-hole called _self_. you can shut him out by removing the self-plank and filling up with jesus only. another bad little fox is, "_i haven't power."_ be sure and catch him. if you will take the pains to dig him up, you will find his nest some where beyond the end of your present consecration. it will pay you to take him, if you have to "dig deep" and work hard. another devouring little fox is, "_my church_." "salt" and "fire" is the sure and only antidote for such nasty vermin. we will point out one more little fox, and he is able to devour all the fruit of the vineyard and kill the very vines. his species is "_fear_." one good dose of "perfect love" will kill him stone-dead. and a constant application of the blood of christ will prevent this, with all other little or big foxes, yea, and all other animals, ever coming to life again. spiritual declension. a want of interest in the duties of secret devotion is a mark of religious declension. it is well said that prayer is the christian's vital breath. a devout spirit is truly the life and soul of godliness. the soul can not but delight in communion with what it loves with warm affection. the disciple, when his graces are in exercise, does not enter into his closet and shut the door, that he may pray to his father who is in secret, merely because it is a duty which must be done, but because it is a service which he delights to render, a pleasure which he is unwilling to forego. he goes to the mercy-seat as the thirsty hart goes to the refreshing brook. the springs of his strength are there. there he has blessed glimpses of his savior's face, and unnumbered proofs of his affection. but sometimes the professing christian comes to regard the place of secret intercourse with god with very different feelings. he loses, perhaps by a process so gradual that he is scarcely conscious of it for a time, the tenderness of heart, and the elevation and fervor of devout affection that he had been used to feel in meeting god. there is less and less of spirit and more and more of form in his religious exercises. he retires at the accustomed time rather from force of habit than because inclination draws him. he is enclined to curtail his seasons of retirement or to neglect it altogether if a plausible pretext can be found. he reproaches himself, perhaps, but hopes that the evil will cure itself at length. and so he goes on from day to day, and week to week. prayer--if his heartless service deserves the name--affords him no pleasure and adds nothing to his strength. where such a state of things exists it is evident that the pulses of spiritual life are ebbing fast. if the case is yours, dear reader, it ought to fill you with alarm. satan is gaining an advantage of you and seducing you from god. a second sign of spiritual declension is indifference to the usual means of grace. the spiritual life, not less than the natural life, requires appropriate and continual nourishment. for this want god has made ample provision in his word. to the faithful-disciple the scriptures are rich in interest and profit. "o how love i thy law! it is my meditation all the day." to such a soul the preaching of the gospel is a joyful sound; and the place where kindred spirits mingle in social praise and worship is far more attractive than the scenes of worldly pleasure. but, alas! from time to time it happens that some who bear the christian name and who have rejoiced in christian hopes, insensibly lose their relish for the scriptures. if they continue to read them daily, it is no longer with such appreciation of their power and beauty as makes them the bread of life, refreshing and invigorating the soul. their minds are occupied no small portion of the time with thoughts of earthly things. they find it easy to excuse themselves from frequenting the place of social prayer, and even content themselves, perhaps, with an occasional half-day attendance on the more public service of the sanctuary. and when they are in the place of worship they feel listless, destitute of spiritual affection, disposed to notice others or to attend to only mere words and forms. they want, in a great measure, that preparation of the heart, without which the means of grace are powerless and lacking in pleasure or profit to the soul. such indifference is conclusive proof that the soul has departed from god; has grieved the holy spirit and lost the vital power of godliness. if you, reader, are conscious of this indifference, see in it an infallible sign of your backsliding. it declares you have departed from the fountain of living waters and are a wanderer from your god. a third indication of declension in the christian life is a devotion to the world. "love not the world, neither the things that are in the world." covetousness is idolatry. christians are solemnly enjoined to set their affections on things above, and to lay up treasures in heaven. but look at yonder professed disciple. see how inordinately anxious he is about gain. he is giving all his thoughts and time to business. he enlarges his plans and extends his views. he suffers the hours of worldly business to encroach upon the time which should be spent in secret or in family worship or in the social prayer. he forgets that he has no right to do this, and that he can not, without sin, permit the claims of earth to crowd out the claims of god and his own immortal nature. look, too, at his compliance with the tastes and maxims of worldly people. he appears to feel it is not best to be strict in his adhesion to his principles. he doubts if there is any harm in this or that or the other worldly indulgence. he does not see the need of being so strenuous about little things. he is anxious to please everybody and can not bear to thwart the wishes of the worldly-minded. if the world dislikes any of the doctrines or the duties of religion he would have little said about them. in a word, he is all things to all men, in a very different sense from what paul meant. in his sentiments, his associations, his pleasures, his mode of doing business, his conversation, his whole character, there is far too little that evinces strength of holy principle and godliness. o reader, has your case been described? you are then a backslider from the god whom you covenanted to serve. a fourth sign of a state of declension in spirituality is an unwillingness to receive christian counsel or reproof. the spirit of christ is a tender, gentle, docile spirit. when the heart of the disciple is full of holy affection he feels that he is frail and insufficient. he seeks wisdom and strength from above and is thankful for the kind suggestions of those whose experience and opportunities have been greater than his own. if he errs and is admonished by some faithful christian brother, he receives it meekly and with a thankful spirit. "let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness," is the language of his heart. even though reproof in itself be painful, he would not that it should be omitted when he has been in fault, for he dreads nothing so much as doing wrong--as sinning against god and his own soul. but the spirit that departs from god and duty is a self-willed spirit. it is impatient of restraint. it is irritable and captious instead of meek and willing to be taught. it can not brook any crossing of its views, but esteems advice impertinent and meets admonition with resentment. when he exhibits such a temper of mind; when he disregards the opinions and feelings of fellow christians; when he affects independence and prides himself on doing as he pleases; when he keeps out of the reach of christian counsel, and justifies himself when affectionately reproved; when he comes to regard the watchfulness of others over him as an unwelcome and irksome thing; [when he charges you with having a spirit of faultfinding, of having no charity, but that you only discourage and press him down when you try to show him his lack of spiritual life],--it is clear that he exhibits no more the fruits of the holy spirit's influence on his soul. his piety has declined; he no longer lives in intimacy with god and in the atmosphere of heaven. his light is dim. his glory has departed. the last indication of religious declension that we shall now speak of is a careless indifference to the danger arising from temptation. a christian whose piety is warm and vigorous has great tenderness of conscience. he dreads the least approach of evil. even the suggestions of sin to the mind are painful. he therefore prays earnestly and daily, "lead me not into temptation," and carefully avoids placing himself in dangerous circumstances. sometimes, however, you will see professing christians who seem to want this instinctive sense of danger. they often place themselves in circumstances when they might easily have foreseen their strength of principle would be liable to be put to the severest test. they keep company in which it is nearly impossible that their moral feelings should not be defiled. they allow themselves to assort with the idle, the frivolous, with those who are given to foolish talking and jesting; they indulge idle thoughts, repeat amusing stories, read hooks and papers that do not gender to piety, etc. but he who is willing to go as far toward evil as he can with safety, has lost one of the greatest safe-guards of virtue. he who is ready to tamper with temptation is on dangerous ground and in a sad state of declension. o reader, turn ye about, shake loose from the world, draw nigh to god, let the deep breathings waft your soul upward and upward to greater heights in god's joy and love, and this world will only be a dim specter in the distance. diligence. "o for a closer walk with god!" this is the inward pleading of many a precious blood-washed soul. i beg leave to tell you that that fulness of god, that deep and perfect satisfaction of soul, that sweet feeling of deep reverence, that hushed and sacred feeling of awe, that close walk with god, is _obtained_ and _retained_ only by the _utmost_ diligence. slothfulness in the christian life is a sure source of degeneration. too frequently when saints reach "fair canaan's happy land" they think they have nothing now to do but to sing and shout and praise god and go to heaven "on flowery beds of ease." to every newly arrived christian in canaan is given the command, "go forward and possess the land." to do this battles must be fought, giant foes must be defeated, and the greatest diligence must be practised. god promised ancient israel to drive out all the nations of canaan from before them, and that every place whereon the soles of their feet should tread should be theirs, if they would diligently keep all the commandments that the lord commanded them, to love the lord, to walk in his ways, and to cleave unto him. see deut. : - . if we will diligently obey god and go forward at his command he will lead us where the milk and honey flow, and where the pastures are green. our walk with him will be sweet and our souls perfectly satisfied. since the term _diligence_ is so frequently used in scripture and such emphasis placed upon it, it is well worth our time to learn its meaning. we often, among the saints, hear testimonies like these: "i am living up to all the word of god"; or, "all the bible requires of me, i am doing"; "i love god and find delight in doing all his will," etc. such expressions are very full of meaning and may sometimes mean more than the witness comprehends. let me ask you, are you as diligent in every respect as the bible commands you to be? diligence implies an earnest and constant effort to accomplish a desired end--a carefulness, a heedfulness, an industry, a close and fixed attention. many a heart has been robbed of the love of god because it was not kept by diligence. many a beloved saint can look back to a few years ago when his soul was more fully satisfied and his heart abounded more in the love of god, and all because diligence was not given to "keep the heart." in josh. : the commandment is to take diligent heed to love god, to walk in his ways, to keep his commandments, to cleave unto him, and to serve him with all the heart and with all the soul. may the lord help the reader to comprehend the strength of this commandment. o how precious! to take diligent heed to love god, implies a careful avoidance of everything that would have a tendency to suppress his love in our hearts and to eagerly seek all possible means of increasing that love. all company whose spirit and conversation have a tendency to destroy love is avoided as far as possible without violating the command, "be courteous." reading amusing stories; telling amusing, worldly incidents, the happenings of bygone days; fondness for the general news of the day; gossiping; admiration for the pomp and show of the world; careless, idle thoughts; fondness for society,--all serve to extinguish the love of god in our hearts. talking with others about god and his works, reading his word, meditating upon him, praying, attending meetings, doing good to all men, giving of our means to advance his cause,--all these increase the love in our hearts toward him. to be diligent, to serve the lord with all the heart and with all the soul, is to be industrious in doing all we can for him; seeking opportunities of doing good, carefulness in obeying all his commands, testifying to the works of god, and showing forth his praises continually. your soul may long for a closer walk with god, and well that it does; but if you do not keep your heart with all diligence from the world, you will never enjoy the blessed experience. but by giving diligence you can have such a walk with god as to fully satisfy your soul. lowliness. but few traits of christian character are more lovely than lowliness. humility, meekness, and lowliness are terms nearly synonymous, but not wholly so. it is somewhat difficult for the mind to grasp the shades of difference in their meaning. it appears, however, that lowliness is the deepest depth of humility and meekness. meekness is the opposite of impatience, harshness, or irritability, and has for its fruit gentleness and kindness. humility is the opposite of pride, and has for its fruits modesty, unforwardness, etc. lowliness is simply the opposite of highness in self in any respect, and has for its fruits meekness and humility with their fruits. to us this command is given: 'walk worthy of your vocation with all lowliness.' if you have the experience of "all lowliness," you will go on in your vocation without discouragement and disappointment, though you are unnoticed and wholly ignored. and though god promotes others and honors them and they are loved and praised by men, you are glad for them and rejoice. if you have the experience of "all lowliness" in your soul, you will not have the least disposition to lift up self. all you do and say will be in godly sincerity. now look closely. if god heals some one through your prayers, be careful when you tell of the healing that it is to lift up the lord only. if you have composed a song, and sing it to a company who do not know that it is your song, then you tell them the lord gave you the song, what is your motive? do you want them to know how good and great the lord is, and nothing more? or do you want them to know that you are the author? i say, look closely into your motive. if, from the lowliness of your heart, you desire in all you do and say, only to exalt the lord, it will be felt in the depth of your speech, and god will be honored; but if there is the least inclination or feeling to exalt self, it will be felt in the gracelessness of your speech, and god will be dishonored. go humbly on in life attending to the work god has assigned to you, doing it well and in all lowliness of heart before him, and be content. on dress. if you could be as humble when you choose rich apparel (which i flatly deny), yet you could not be as beneficent, as plenteous in good works. therefore every shilling that you needlessly spend on your apparel is in effect _stolen from the poor_! for what end do you want these ornaments? to please god? no!--but to please your own fancy or to gain the admiration and applause of those who are no wiser than yourself. if so, what you wear you are in effect tearing from the back of the naked; and the costly and delicate food you eat, you are snatching from the mouth of the hungry. for mercy, for pity, for christ's sake, for the honor of his gospel, stay your hand! do not throw this money away. do not lay out on nothing, yea worse than nothing, what may clothe your poor, naked, shivering fellow creatures. many years ago, when i was at oxford, on a cold winter's day, a young maid (one of those we keep at school) called on me. i said, "you seem half starved. have you nothing to cover you but that thin gown?" she said, "sir, this is all i have." i put my hand in my pocket, but found no money left, having just paid away all that i had. it struck me, "will thy master say, 'well done, good and faithful steward. thou hast adorned thy wall with the money which might have screened this poor creature from the cold'? o justice! o mercy! are not these pictures the blood of the poor maid? see thy expensive apparel in the same light; thy gown, hat, head-dress!" everything about thee which costs more than christian duty required thee to lay on, is the blood of the poor! oh, be wise for the time to come! be more merciful; more faithful to god and man; more abundantly clad (like men and women professing godliness) _with good works_. it is _stark, staring nonsense_ to say, "oh, i can _afford_ this or that!" if you have regard to common sense, let that silly word never come into your mouth. no man living can _afford_ to throw away any part of that food or raiment into the sea which was lodged with him on purpose to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. and it is far worse than waste to spend any part of it in gay and costly apparel. for this is no less than to turn wholesome food into deadly poison. it is giving so much money to poison both yourself and others as far as your example spreads, with pride, vanity, anger, lust, love of the world, and a thousand "foolish and hurtful desires" which tend to "pierce them through with many sorrows." o god, arise and maintain thy own cause! let not men and devils any longer put out our eyes and lead as blindfolded into the pit of destruction. god demands of his people that they dress modestly as becomes people who profess holiness. the putting on of apparel for adornment and the wearing of jewelry are not consistent with christian modesty. the nude and lewd art of dressing which is becoming so prevalent among professors of christ is an abomination in the sight of god, and a practise which no virtuous man or woman can countenance. if professors would stop and consider the character of women who invent popular fashions of the age they might well blush with shame at their eager attempts to follow the modern styles of dress invented by the wicked leaders of fashion in london and paris, whence the latest styles of this country generally emanate. it is indeed sad to behold the young of to-day making themselves unfit to fulfil the sacred functions of wife and mother by the use of the modern corset, as well as laying a foundation for years of misery, dragged out in this life by diseases brought upon them by catering to the creed of millions who worship at the shrine of fashion. the pride of their hearts, pampered and fed by the foolish practises of the age, blinds them to their obligations to god as a creator and savior; and amid the whirl of earthly vanity they hasten to the awful doom that awaits all who fail to obey the gospel of christ. the word of god gives plain directions to christians as to how they should dress. in olden times god permitted his people to wear some jewelry; that is, there was no law against it; but there came a time when he promised that he would cleanse the hearts of his people from all pride and vanity, and they should find no pleasure in putting on ornamental dress and jewelry, and costly array. in isa. : - we have a clear prophecy of the gospel age, and how god was going to have his people dress modestly in accordance with their profession. we shall quote from the lxx: "thus saith the lord, because the daughters of sion are haughty, and have walked with an outstretched neck, and with winking of the eyes, and motion of the feet: ... therefore the lord will humble the chief daughters of sion, and the lord will expose their form in that day; and the lord will take away the glory of their raiment, the curls and the fringes, and the crescents, and the chains, and the ornaments of their faces, and the array of glorious ornaments, and the armlets, and the bracelets, and the wreathed work, and the finger-rings, and the ornaments for the right hand, and the earrings, and the garments with scarlet borders, and the garments with purple grounds, and the shawls to be worn in the house, and the spartan transparent dresses, and those made of fine linen, and the purple ones, and the scarlet ones, and the fine linen, interwoven with gold and purple, and the light coverings for couches." we shall now quote from the new testament: "in like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works." tim. : , . "likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, if any obey not the word, they also may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives; while they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear, whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of god of great price." pet. : - . the wearing of feathers, artificial flowers, frills, flounces, unnecessary tucks and trimmings, is not in harmony with the gospel standard of modest apparel. queer-shaped hats, such as we see worn by the people who follow the fashions of the world, should be avoided by the saints as they would every other thing unbecoming to a christian; not fashioning themselves according to their former lusts in their ignorance. "but as he which hath called you is holy, so he ye holy in all manner of conversation." pet. : . the all-wise god who gave these commands knows what is for the good of his people, and if we love him, we will obey. when the heart is cleansed from all pride there will be no difficulty in measuring up to the gospel on the matter of modest apparel. we trust all who read this may realize it is truth. the elixir of life. i have seen patent medicines bearing the above title. by the word _elixir_ is meant length of days and happiness. the medical man by labeling his cordial with this title offers to give to all who will take it a long life of happiness. such things have their sad failures; but i will offer to you a prescription, which, if you will carefully follow, will prove an unfailing elixir of life. "for he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: let him eschew evil, and do good; let him seek peace, and ensue it." pet. : , . if the reader will follow these directions strictly, making them practical in every-day life, we can upon the authority god has given insure him a long and happy life. rules for every-day life. "let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt." col. : . "withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it." prov. : . "walk in wisdom toward them that are without." col. : . "do all things without murmurings and disputings." phil. : . "let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth." prov. : . "be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks." prov. : . "eat so much as is sufficient for thee." prov. : . "be not wise in your own conceits." rom. : "abstain from all appearance of evil." thes. : . "see that none render evil for evil unto any man." thes. : . "be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love." rom. : . "be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." rom. : . "be content with such things as ye have." heb. : . "whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." eccl. : . "let all things be done with charity." cor. : . "count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations." jas. : . "keep thyself pure." tim. : . "in everything give thanks." i thes. : . "keep yourselves in the love of god." jude . "praying always with all prayer and supplication in the spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints." eph. : . a holy life. what, in its true sense, is a holy life? it is the life of jesus. his whole manner of life was truly holy. his life is the ideal life. if we would live holy, we must live as he lived. we must walk as he walked. the artist has his ideal before him, and with touches of the brush here and there upon his drawing he forms a picture in an exact image of the ideal. the life of jesus is what we are to imitate. he sets the example of holy living and calls us to the same holy life. "as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation." pet. : . this text has a better rendering in the revised version: "like as he which called you is holy, be ye yourselves also holy in all manner of living." we, as christians, are god's offspring and as such are like him. holiness in the life of jesus is found not only in the greater miracles which he performed, but also in the lesser happenings of his life. the restoring of life to the dead is no more beautifully holy than the laying of his hands upon the heads of children and blessing them. his memorable sermon on the mount no more portrays the loveliness of his character than the conversation with the woman by the wayside well. it is the little things in every-day life, if attended to and kept in the meekness and solemnity of the spirit of christ, that make life truly beautiful and holy. it is not the eloquent sermon that makes a life so sublime; but it is the tender smile, the kind word, the gentle look, that is given to all. it is the patient manner in which all the little trying and provoking things of life are met. you may preach or write ever so forcibly and eloquently, and bring out the sublime truths of the bible in great beauty; but if, in the privacy of your own home, there are little frettings, a little peevishness, a little crossness, a little levity, a little selfishness, a little distrust, your life is not as truly holy as it should be. if you desire god's holy image to be stamped upon your soul, your countenance, and your life, carefully avoid the little sprigs of lightness, the little bits of sloth and indolence, touches of forwardness, rudeness, coarseness, and crossness, and acts of selfishness, etc. pure words belong to a holy life. you should use the very choicest words. words that are wholly free from vulgarity, slang, and the spirit of the world. untidiness, uncleanness, carelessness, and shabbiness are not at all beautiful ornaments in a holy life. but quietness, modesty, and reticence are gems which sparkle in a holy life like diamond sets in a band of gold. give attention to your words, your thoughts, your tone of voice, your feelings, the practise of self-denial, of little acts of benevolence, of promptness, of method and order. these are auxiliaries to holy living. are there not many little things in your home life that you can improve upon? seek god for help and be truly holy. a solitary way. there is a mystery in human hearts, and though we be encircled by a host of those who love us well, and are beloved, to ev'ry one of us, from time to time, there comes a sense of utter loneliness. our dearest friend is "stranger" to our joy, and can not realize our bitterness. "there is not one who really understands, not one to enter into all i feel," such is the cry of each of us in turn. we wander in "a solitary way," no matter what or where our lot may be; each heart, mysterious even to itself, must live its inner life in solitude. and would you know the reason why this is? it is because the lord desires our love. in ev'ry heart he wishes to be first, he therefore keeps the secret key himself, to open all its chambers, and to bless with perfect sympathy and holy peace each solitary soul which comes to him. so when we feel this loneliness it is the voice of jesus saying, "come to me"; and ev'ry time we are "not understood," it is a call to us to come again: for christ alone can satisfy the soul. and those who walk with him from day to day can never have "a solitary way." and when beneath some heavy cross you faint and say, "i can not bear this load alone," you say the truth. christ made it purposely so heavy that you must return to him. the bitter grief, which "no one understands," conveys a secret message from the king, entreating you to come to him again. the "man of sorrows" understands it well, "in all points tempted," he can feel with you; you can not come too often, or too near. the son of god is infinite in grace, his presence satisfies the longing soul; and those who walk with him from day to day can never have "a solitary way." stirring the eagle's nest. "as an eagle stirreth up her nest, that fluttereth over her young, he spread abroad his wings, he took them, he bare them on his pinions." that picture is full of poetry, full of life and truth and beauty. mark it. have you ever seen an eagle stir up her nest? you know what happens. there in the nest, right upon the rocky heights, are the eaglets. the mother eagle comes and, taking hold of them, flings them out of the nest. they were so comfortable there, but she flings them right out of the nest, high above the earth. they begin to fall straightway. they never have been in air before; they have always been in the nest. is not that mother bird cruel? why does she disturb the eaglets? watch her and you will understand. as long as you look upon the struggling eaglets in the air you miss the point. watch the eagle. having stirred up her nest, "she spreadeth abroad her pinions," the pinions that beat the air behind her as she rises superior to it. where are the eaglets? struggling, falling; she is superior; they are falling. then what does she do? "she beareth them on her pinions." she swoops beneath them, catches them on her wings, and bears them up. what is she doing? teaching them to fly. she drops them again, and again they struggle in the air, but this time not so helplessly. they are finding out what she means. she spreads her pinions to show them how to fly, and as they fall again, she catches them again. that is how god deals with you and me. has he been stirring up your nest? has he flung you out until you feel lost in an element that is new and strange? look at him. he is not lost in that element. he spreads out the wings of omnipotence to teach us how to soar. what then? he comes beneath us and catches us on his wings. we thought when he flung us out of the nest it was unkind. no; he was teaching us to fly that we might enter into the spirit of the promise, "they shall mount up with wings as eagles." he would teach us how to use the gifts which he has bestowed on us, and which we can not use as long as we are in the nest. fancy keeping eaglets in the nest! it is contrary to their nature, contrary to the purposes for which they are framed and fitted. there is a purpose in the eagle. what is it! flight upward. there is a purpose in your life, new-born child of god! what is it? flight godward, sunward, heavenward. if you stop in the nest you will never get there. god comes into your life and disturbs you, breaks up your plans, and extinguishes your hopes, the lights that have lured you on. he spoils everything; what for? that he may get you on his wings and teach you the secret forces of your own life, and lead you to the higher development and higher purposes. the government of god is a disturbing element, but, praise his name! it is a progressive element. some things you should not do. do not forget to pray. do not waste any moments in idleness. do not use slang words in your conversation. do not build air-castles. do not think evil nor speak evil of any one. do not lack showing courtesy to all men. do not be rude in manners. do not think yourself to be something more than you are. do not try to make others think you are better than you really are. do not tell the faults of a friend to others. do not wear what the bible condemns. do not dress slovenly. do not work too much. do not work too little. do not talk too much. do not eat too much. do not sleep too much. do not neglect going to meetings. do not neglect giving all you can to the cause of christ. do not neglect reading the bible. do not do to others what you would not like for them to do to you. do not forget to practise much self-denial. do not neglect to be zealously affected in a good cause. do not neglect to admonish your brother. do not seek the praise of men. do not do anything through strife or vain glory. do not be afraid of the devil. do not think your trials are greater than those of others. do not neglect to bear the burdens of others. do not neglect to bear your own burdens. do not fret, worry, nor murmur. do not testify to something you do not live. do not let your thoughts wander idly about. do not neglect to show meekness and kindness to all men. do not compromise with sin to the least degree. do not neglect your salvation. do not weary in well-doing, knowing in due season you shall reap if you _do not faint_. purity. there are but few words in the english language sweeter and more beautiful than the word _purity_. what tender, mellow light beams out from its depths through its crystal clearness! what a halo of glory encircles it! what a sweet melody is contained in the sound, which, as it falls upon the soul, awakens all that is manly, noble, and godly there! purity! who can repeat this word and not feel and hear a sweet rythm reverberating through all the avenues of his spiritual being? "_keep thyself pure."_ is there a soul so deep in slumber, so stupefied by the opiates of sin, as to know no awakening by the sweet melodious chimes that ring out from this heavenly command! dismal, indeed, must be the heart in which no aspirations for a pure, devoted life are awakened by these glorious words. listen, o my soul, to the sweet music, "_keep thyself pure_." tuned by the spirit and sung by the voice of inspiration, in the bright morning of this glorious gospel day, it comes ringing down through the ages and is awakening desires and aspirations for the truest nobility of manhood, the deepest piety, and the highest plane of moral purity to which man can attain through the redeeming grace of god. the command to you, young man, is, "_keep thyself pure_"; and to you, young lady, "_keep thyself pure_"; and to all who are farther down the stream of life and hastening on to the boundless ocean of eternity, "_keep thyself pure."_ if you desire to comprehend something of the true meaning of purity, think of heaven: what purity is in heaven, so it is on earth; what it is in the life of christ, so it is in the life of man. here upon the shores of time we look away, by an eye of faith, and behold the purity of heaven and its inhabitants. we behold the angels and the great white throne, upon which sits the king of glory; but who, of all mankind, will really be eye-witnesses of that fair scene? the lamb, who is the light over there, makes answer, "blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see god." from that golden throne of god and the lamb, the "beloved disciple," from the land of visions, saw flowing a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal; and he heard the lord of heaven and earth saying, "i will give unto him that is athirst of the water of life freely"; and the spirit and the bride repeat the invitation, saying, "whosoever will, let him come and take of the water of life freely." but what is this pure river of water of life? it is the wonderful river of god's saving grace, issuing forth from out his throne and flowing throughout all his kingdom. the son of god extended his father's kingdom to this earth and set the glorious stream of salvation flowing here. this wonderful stream is just as pure and its waters just as sweet in their onward flowing here, as they are when they come sparkling forth from out the throne. if you will come and wash in this crystal stream; if you will drink of its delicious waters,--they will make you as pure as the throne from which they flow. if you will allow them to ripple over your soul, they will cleanse you and make you pure, so that purity in your heart will not be inferior to that purity which encircles the throne of god. glory to his name! the psalmist says, "purge me with hyssop, and i shall be clean: wash me, and i shall be whiter than snow." white is an emblem of purity. when john beheld the multitude of all nations standing before the throne and the lamb, clothed in white robes, he asked whence they came. "these are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the lamb." rev. : . purity of soul and heart and mind and conscience and thought and life is an experience to be attained to and enjoyed in this life. peter says, "seeing ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth." pet. : . jesus says, "blessed are the pure in heart." mat. : . paul says, "i thank god, whom i serve from my forefathers with pure conscience." tim. : . peter says, "i stir up your pure minds." pet. : . paul says, "whatsoever things are pure, ... think on these things." see phil. : , . christ is the standard of purity. "and every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure." john : . purity in all the affections, in all the desires, in all the motives, and in all the thoughts. the heart that is made pure in the light of god reveals nothing contrary to heaven. nothing can be more noble and beautiful upon earth than a pure life. oh, how many unclean and impure thoughts and desires are filling the minds and hearts of men and women in these awful iniquitous days! dear reader, "keep thyself pure." means for growth. you have started out fairly upon the christian way. you have been "born again"; you have been immersed in water, or buried with christ in baptism; you have been baptized with the holy spirit and fire. with such an experience you are admitted to the contest for the "crown of life." now since you are thus started out upon the christian way, it is a fact that you must "grow in grace." there are certain means for you to use that will promote growth. if you neglect these, you will not, you can not, grow. you must live much in prayer; you must read the bible; you must attend meetings that are ordered of god; you must partake of the lord's supper as you have opportunity; you must wash the saints' feet. you will be blest with grace to your soul if you do these things as unto the lord. you must give of your means to god's cause freely and cheerfully; you must diligently follow every good work; and you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge and grace of god. lay hold on eternal life. the "crown of life" lies at the end of the race. some run well for a time, and then because of slight hindrances turn from the way. you must endure unto the end. you must follow the example of the zealous apostle who said, "i reach forth to the things that are before," and, "i press toward the mark for the prize." the prize was the crown of life. he bends forward in the race with all the energy of his soul. down at the end of the race he beholds the crown. sin, satan, nor the world shall not hinder him in securing it. you must be just as much in earnest. you must strive, and that lawfully, lest some one take your crown. some years ago a number of boatmen off the coast of new england raced for a prize in single boats. as they were nearing the end of the race it was discovered by the spectators that a special favorite was a half-boat's length ahead of all its competitors. his friends began to cheer him, and he, animated by their cheers, gave a responsive cheer, and, in doing so, lost a stroke of the oar; a competitor seeing his opportunity bent to his oar with all energy, shot past him and won the prize. the apostle paul warns you against youthful lusts, and tells you to flee from them; to follow peace, righteousness, godliness; to fight the good fight of faith; and to lay hold upon eternal life. we are in days when the love of many is waxing cold because iniquity abounds. you must keep the ardor of love glowing in your heart. allow not the world nor aught else to extinguish the tender flame. everything that has a tendency to suppress love, to cool its ardor, to dilute its sweetness in your soul, to lessen the yearnings of your heart for more of god, to deprive you of the sweet realization of constantly leaning on his breast,--consider all such things your bitter foes and rout them at any cost. run life's race with all the energy of your soul, never relaxing effort until the prize is in full possession. the dying testimony of the apostle paul may be yours. when he had come down to the end of his journey he said as he stood, as it were, one foot upon time and the other in eternity, "the time of my departure is at hand." then taking a last retrospective view of his life, he said, "i have fought a good fight." then taking a look at inward conditions, he said, "i am ready to be offered up." then looking out into the future's prospect, he said, "henceforth there is a crown of righteousness laid up for me." o beloved young saints, run well your race. keep your eyes upon the goal, fight the good fight of faith, be in earnest, live every moment for god, and you can have a dying testimony like the above. crucifixion of self. it requires no little courage, coupled with the grace of god, to go to calvary. there are many christians who will follow jesus so long as it is "hosanna to the king of david," who fail to follow him to calvary. most persons love the sweets of grace, and thus many follow the lord for the loaves and fishes; but when it comes to following him for his own sake, even unto judgment, where our earthliness is revealed, then too often we follow "afar off." many will serve for reward, who refuse to serve for righteousness' sake. satan understood this in the case of job; so he said to the lord, "doth job serve god for naught?" job endured even unto the end, and proved by actual test his devotion to god and not to his gifts. saints are like soldiers--many there be who enlist, but few who fearlessly face death. all like life, though it be a life out of harmony with god. satan said of job, "all that a man hath will he give for his life." so christians' last surrender is their own earthly life. they love the earthly, the dust; and to die to all that is not divine is a price that few will pay. many talk of crucifixion, yea, claim to be crucified, who know hardly the first step away from self. to let self, the flesh, and all evil within perish; to draw the last drop of earthliness from our veins,--is a price but few will pay for all the life of god. god through moses gave to the children of israel a heritage; but never in their greatest conquest did they attain all of that heritage. so with christians: how few ever attain all of that god-life offered them through our lord jesus christ. the israelites made a league with certain of the inhabitants of the land whom they should have destroyed. how many christians spare those enemies within which should die. they may force the death of many, perhaps most of their earthliness; but somewhere there is that with which they will not part. of course, the earthliness may not be manifest as before; "hewers of wood and drawers of water" they become, yet they are there and live there. "i will be found of them when they seek me with their whole heart." wholehearted devotion to god is a rare quality, and only the fewest of the few ever attain it. an idol somewhere, a desire, a wish, a preference, a hope not born of god, but of man or of the flesh, is the separation line. yea, to cease from our labors as god did from his, and thus reach true rest, is a haven but few ever reach. to literally cease, that jehovah may be the beginning and the end, means blood, and thorns, and nails in the hands. yes, it means calvary and the tomb. this is too much for many who go part way with jesus. how few realize that perhaps the most of our religious aspirations are born not of god, but of blood, or of the will of the flesh, or of man; and this is why our efforts are so barren, futile, and earthly. yes, to hide away so that every act, every purpose, every hope, centers in god and points to him and away from man--what a rare spiritual attainment! many who are said to be very spiritual and leaders in the work of god, if robbed of this glory, would cease. to work for the eyes of god alone is not a sufficient reward for very many who have climbed well up the gospel ladder. to know when we are dead in the highest light. self-abnegation can not be discerned so long as we want to live. if we never reach the point where we literally "hate our own life," we shall never know how much there is in us not divine. the flesh is ever the veil that separates between the holy place and the holy of holies. until we have reached that place where we have lost sight of all that is human, and hunger and thirst for all the life of god, christian perfection is an impossible attainment. this little book has been written for your success in the divine life. we have hoped and prayed for your well being in the grace of god; but unless you are dead to self our prayers are but in vain. oh, the beauties and the blessings and the rich glories, and happiness and usefulness for you in life, if you are fully possessed with life of god! be dead indeed to self, and let god live in you to his praise. love not the world. if you value your success in the christian life, keep a wide gulf between you and this world. by the expression _the world_ i mean its amusements, its revelry, its praise, its fashions, its society, its spirit. the present-day amusements or entertainments offered by secret orders and sects and by others are very destructive to spiritual life. unless you are willing to walk alone with jesus and let the blessedness of his companionship suffice for you, you had as well quit the race now. mingle with worldly people, only to tell them of god's love. to love and enjoy the society of the world is to have a heart destitute of grace. therefore keep away from the world. beware of it. it is a bitter foe to grace. it is an enemy to god; and if you befriend it, you make yourself an enemy to god. "whosoever is a friend to the world is an enemy to god," so says the bible. to be a friend to the world is to help it along in any sense--to encourage its spirit; to add to its pleasures, to its levity, its fashion, its foolishness; or to abet it in any way. you go into the world, only for the purpose of saving people from the world, and thus you are the world's enemy; and so you must continue to be, or miss heaven. have a care. the world has many gaudy wings-- have a care! she flits among the flow'rs and sings-- many a snare. beware of the hidden poisonous stings. earth's pleasures are a golden cup-- have a care! she bids you take one little sup-- many a snare. beware of the hidden sting in the cup. earth's riches have a charm most rare-- have a care! she bids you seek a goodly share-- many a snare. beware-- she will sting with many a care. vain worldly fame's a painted flow'r-- have a care! she dwells in an enchanted bow'r-- many a snare. beware-- she'll chide you in an evil hour. the world is but an empty show-- have a care! of true joys a dangerous foe-- many a snare. beware-- her greatest gain's oft deepest woe. affinities. by the term _affinity_ i mean that enamored feeling which arises in the hearts of those of opposite sex for each other. this satan may take advantage of; and in this awful snare many a soul has gone down into the darkness; many a heaven-born and happy soul has received its awful blight, and gone down to an eternity of woe. some one may ask, "is not marriage honorable? and does not god join hearts together in love?" he certainly does; but when he does and all is kept in god's order the parties in love will not suffer any loss of spirituality. courtship can be carried on in the will and order of god, and the parties engaged have a constant growth in grace. but so many times they become silly-headed and allow their love for each other to carry them out of god's order, and consequently they will soon be graceless-hearted. now i speak the truth when i say that by far the greater number of saints who fall in love suffer spiritual loss. this need not be so. in the first place, the love for each other must be genuine; but, though god is calling two together and the love which springs up is in the order of the lord, this does not insure them against spiritual loss. if they are not watchful they will lose their heads, so to speak, and step away beyond the bonds of propriety. there is many a young man and young woman united in marriage these days, even young saints, whom wisdom has not directed. such may succeed in getting through and escaping the damnation of hell, but they will have trouble in the flesh. now, dear young saint, if you desire to be successful in life and gain heaven, if you will keep your senses you can keep clear from all the meshes of unholy affinities. you desire to have a life companion if god selects you one. i can not blame you for this, neither does the bible condemn you; but the utmost caution needs to be exercised. be careful your desire for companionship does not turn your head and render you incapable of knowing or understanding the will of god. whenever you find yourself losing love for god, you had better beware. whenever the object of your affection is getting so upon your heart and mind that you think less of god you are going beyond his ordering. if your last thoughts in the evening and your earliest thoughts in the morning are of the loved one, you are being estranged from god and losing spiritual life. i feel like giving you warning and counsel you to move very cautiously and prayerfully in these matters, lest you make a mistake and suffer a loss that neither time nor eternity will ever make up. young saints must not keep company with the unsaved. those who do, lose spirituality. if you love god and desire to live a spiritual life, wait on god and let him select your life companion. the guardian angel. when you entered the christian race god gave an angel to guard and guide you in the way. you need have no fear of this world. live in god's service and do his will, and this guardian angel will keep you. "the angel of the lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." it was this angel that stood with daniel in the den of lions and with the three hebrew children in the fiery furnace. it was this angel that led the weeping hagar to the well of water when her child was dying of thirst; and that led the righteous lot out of the wicked city of sodom and saved him from its awful burning. when elijah was hunted for his life and sat down to weep and to starve under the juniper-tree, it was this guardian angel that brought him a cake and a cruse of water. it was this good angel that unbolted the prison doors and set peter free. when paul and silas were lying fast in the stocks singing praise to god at midnight, it was the angel of the lord that shook the earth and opened the prison doors. [illustration: life.] you once were lost, but the son of man came to save you. now you are saved; you have entered his fold; you have become one of his "little ones." once lost, but now saved. jesus says to this cruel, mocking world, "take heed that ye cause not one of these _little ones_ to stumble; for their angels do always behold the face of their father which is in heaven." as you journey along the way of life, christian reader, there is an angel of mercy guarding you by day and night. naught in all the world can harm you. 'their angels do always behold the face of god.' by this we understand that your guardian angel has constant access into the presence of god to bear him an intelligence concerning his _little one_ under his charge. glory be to god! if you will but live holy and confide in god, he will guide you safely and triumphantly through this world and bring you in a ripe old age to an eternity of rest. trust not in the world, trust not in man, trust not in yourself; but give up all; give up your life to god and trust in him. you are safe in his care; nothing can harm you. you need not have a fear. what a blessed life to live! how peaceful! how secure! how full of rest! and when the last hour has come those guardian angels will be gathered round waiting for your spirit to come forth from the tomb of clay, and they will waft it in rapture to the god who gave it. fledging the wings. the inspired word of god abounds in evidences of the twofold nature of man's being. man, entire, consists of an outer physical being and an inner spiritual being. the one is for time, the other for eternity. the physical being is the transient home of the spiritual being, and is, therefore, called an earthly house. "for we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of god, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." cor. : . when the earthly house in which the soul is tabernacled comes to dissolution, we (the spiritual beings) pass to our eternal home, a building not made with hands, but builded by the lord of heaven. the passport from the earthly house to the home in the heavens is spoken of by the psalmist as a "flying away." "the days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." psa. : . the physical being is cut down, or comes to dissolution, and we (the souls) fly away, when redeemed by the blood, to our eternal home of rest. since it is spoken of as a flying away, the idea of wings is suggested, from which we derive our subject. the inspired apostle said, "though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day." cor. : . as the outward, physical man, day by day, becomes more feeble, the furrows on the brow grow deeper, the locks more silvery, the steps more tottering, the voice weaker and more husky, the cheeks more sunken, the ear more deaf, the eye more dim, and the heart-beats more slow; the inward man is gathering strength, or fledging his wings, ready for his upward flight to his beautiful mansion in the sky. oh, how often the redeemed soul, full of life, love, and hope, looks out through the fading windows of the crumbling house of clay, to its fair home on the elysian shores eternal, and longs to take its flight! may you, dear reader, and i, as we travel along life's swift journey, so live in prayer and devotion to god, walk in such purity, so feed upon the divine life, that we shall gather strength to our souls day by day and be ready for the hour of our departure. amen. some time some time, when all life's lessons have been learned, and sun and stars forevermore have set, the things which our weak judgments here have spurned, the things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet, will flash before us out of life's dark night, as stars shine most in deeper tints of blue; and we shall see how all god's plans are right, and how what seemed reproof was love most true. and we shall see how, while we frown and sigh, god's plans go on as best for you and me; how when we called, he heeded not our cry, because his wisdom to the end could see. and e'en as prudent parents disallow too much of sweet to craving babyhood; so god, perhaps, is keeping from us now life's sweetest things, because it seemeth good. and if, sometimes, commingled with life's wine, we find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink, be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine pours out the potion for our lips to drink; and if some friend we love is lying low, where human kisses can not reach his face, oh, do not blame the loving father so, but wear your sorrows with obedient grace. and you shall shortly know that lengthened breath is not the sweetest gift god sends his friend, and that, sometimes, the sable pall of death conceals the fairest boon his love can send. if we could push ajar the gates of life, and stand within and all god's workings see, we could interpret all this doubt and strife, and for each mystery could find a key. but not to-day. then be content, poor heart; god's plans like lilies pure and white unfold; we must not tear the close-shut leaves apart, time will unfold the calyces of gold. and if, through patient toil, we reach the land where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest when we shall clearly know and understand, i think that we shall say, "god knew the best!" the precious ointment. in the bible we learn of a woman who took "a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of jesus." this spikenard was very rich in perfume. it was the very best gift she could bring to him whom she loved. this is a very beautiful symbol of the life work of a christian. we, as christian, are a sweet odor unto god in christ jesus. everything you do for jesus scents the air around the throne of god with a sweet fragrance. every prayer your offer in the spirit perfumes the corridors of heaven. i read somewhere of a little girl who told her mamma that god bade all the angels in heaven keep quiet when she prayed; then all the angels hushed their songs until she said amen. amid all the songs and shouts and playing of harps in heaven god hears the prayers of his humble ones on earth. the odor of prayer from the hearts of god's children on earth is as sweet to him as the songs of angels. the things the saints at philippi sent to paul were an odor of a sweet smell to god. cornelius' alms-giving and prayers were kept in heaven as a memorial. so all your gifts and doings and prayers are a rich perfume, which god keeps bottled up in heaven as a memorial of you. your whole life, dear young saint, in all of its giving and doing, its sacrifices and prayers, its humble service and devotion, is to be constantly sending forth a sweet smell to god. this is spoken of in a beautiful figure in s. of sol. : : "while the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof." the king is jesus, who sits at the table of our hearts; the sweet spikenard is our christian lives. in rev. : jesus says, "i will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." the christian's heart is the dining-room; there is a table spread with the graces of the spirit, the fruits of the garden of the lord. there christ and the christian sit down to dine together. while the glory of the one lights up the room, the holy life of the other perfumes it. o god, my soul doth magnify thee for the preciousness of these thoughts. when christ was born wise men came and presented him frankincense and myrrh, and in after-years mary came and poured upon his head the precious ointment of spikenard. these things were literally done, and now when we bring our very best gifts, in the fulness of love, to the lord, we are breaking the alabaster box of sweet ointment and pouring it upon his head. you owe christ the very best of your life; yea, you owe him your life. he must have all the affections of your heart. christ must have the very best of everything out of your life. do not use the dollars for yourself and give him the pennies. do not sip the honey from the flower and give him the leaves. do not eat the fresh bread yourself and give him that which is stale. do not give him the well-worn garment and keep the best robe for yourself. but how can we now give to the lord! "as oft as ye do it unto the least of these ye do it unto me." as you go about your life work as a christian always do what you do as to the lord. when you pray in public talk to jesus the same as if he were there in person, and not to be heard of men. when you give money to the needy do it as if you were giving it to jesus himself, for such it really is. if christ should come to your door and ask for a drink, how eagerly you would get it for him! you must remember that to give a cup of water to one of his little ones is the same as giving it to him. when you visit a sick-chamber and are invited to sing you should sing just as sweetly as if you were singing purposely for the savior, and all your words should be spoken as tenderly as if you were talking to him. [illustration: the tree of life.] jesus has given you the purest love of heaven; he has clothed you with the whitest robe; he gives you the very best heaven affords; and, o beloved, will you not give him the very best life? live with all your soul for jesus; serve him every moment. bring the best of your life, its love, its service, its perfume, and pour them upon the head and feet of jesus. the tree of life. "the fruit of the righteous is a tree of life," says proverbs. how wonderful! how inspiring! the fruit borne by a christian is a savor of life to many. if you live a true christian life all the way through, god will use the fruit you bear to bring another soul to life. your christian life will not be lived in vain. that "beloved disciple" said, "on either side of the river was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month." your life is compared to a river; and if you travel along down its course in the fulness of god's grace, upon its banks will grow the tree of life, of which others may eat and live forever. such thoughts are almost too wonderful for me; they overwhelm my soul. jesus said, "i am the bread of life," and, "he that eateth of this bread shall live forever." this same jesus has come into your life. you are dead, but jesus lives. he lives in you. the fruit you bear will be eaten by others and be life to their souls. o my young reader, will you not be watchful and prayerful and let god live in you and bring forth fruit to his own glory? cultivate the christian graces, and see to it that there is never a withered leaf on your life's tree, but be ever green and full of fruit, scattering a holy influence everywhere. may your life stand out upon the shores of time heavy laden with the fruits of the spirit, of which others may eat long after you are gone to your reward. you can make it so. will you do it? as for me, from the fulness of my soul i answer, i will. eternity. did you ever attempt to look to the end of eternity? have you endeavored to comprehend its duration? alas! it is something beyond the conception of the finite mind. look into it as far as you can and no less of it lies beyond the end of your vision. eternity is something never begun and something that will never end. it is a circle which has no end of beginning and no end of closing. it goes on and on and on until millions upon millions of ages have passed away, and then on and on to other millions upon millions of ages, and then still on, being no less in duration than before. when you have been there ten million years you will be no nearer the end than when you first entered this boundless duration. what a vast and awful thought! eternity! i stand upon the shore of ocean and looking out upon the broad expanse i see nothing but ocean; i see no other shore. i stand and look out upon the ocean of eternity, and see nothing but eternity. i can see out for millions and billions and trillions of years, and yet it is eternity. where shall i spend it? my soul answers, "in heaven through the blood." nearer to thee. nearer to thee, o my savior, nearer i would be each day. as i cross life's stormy ocean never from thee let me stray. nearer, nearer, ever nearer, is the language of my soul as i journey down life's pathway, as i near bright heaven's goal. lead me through this world of sorrow, let my hand in thine e'er be; throw thy arms of love around me, savior, let me walk with thee. when the storm-clouds round me gather in the clefted rock i hide; when the surging billows threaten, fold me closer to thy side. there's a home for me in heaven, by the crystal, silvered sea; some sweet morn the golden portals opened wide will be for me. there in amaranthine glory i will sit at jesus' feet; there i'll sing the sweet old story as i walk the golden street. o my heart, wait on in patience, each day brings me nearer the goal; in some blissful dewy dawning heaven will receive my soul. conclusion. our introduction is upon the subject of life; our conclusion is upon death. to many people the word _death_ is full of horror. thank god, it holds no horror to the pure in heart. death has no sting for those whose souls are in fellowship with god. those who love god hail with joy the hour in which they are to meet him. death to a christian is only his removal from earth to the paradise of god. if some man of wealth were to tell you he had a rich home prepared for you in a distant land, where you could have all your heart could wish, and be happy as long as you lived, if you had confidence in the man, you could say good-by and cheerfully go to your new home. death is nothing more. some may shudder at the thought of the pain in death. how often we hear remarks like this: "this pain is almost like death," or, "it's like taking one's life." have you not stood beside the infant's crib and watched it go peacefully to sleep? where was the pain? death to a christian is only a going to sleep. you have had far more pain in life than you will have in death. there may be pain just prior to death, but none in death. death to a saint is as peaceful as going to sleep. have you not often been in some solitary place and given yourself into the arms of muse? you have fallen to thinking about heaven and the angels and the savior and your crown. you seemed as your soul was wafted upward on the wings of meditation, to lose consciousness of all on earth. such will it be in death. your soul will begin to see the glories of heaven; you will hear the sweet strains of music; you will begin to lose consciousness of earthly things and comprehend more of heaven. then soon you will draw your last breath on the shore of time and sound your first note of praise on the shore of eternity. this is all there is in death. it is precious to fond parents to see their little children, with folded hands, go peacefully to sleep. so to our father in heaven is the death of his saints precious. in fancy i can see many of my young readers, after a well-spent life, gathered in ripe old age on the banks of old time's-river, waiting in bright hope to be summoned over to their rich possessions in the verdant fields of heaven. there is nothing more of death than this to a christian. i pray that the life of many of you will end like this. i believe it will be so. amen. a strange, sweet vision fills my soul, a glimpse of glory and of god; am i not near life's final goal? my feet scarce touch this mortal sod. the zephyrs blow divinely sweet, with fragrance fill the balmy air; are heav'n and earth about to meet? who can this vision bright declare? i hear the notes of seraph song, the rustle of an angel's wing; do signs like these to earth belong? do men and angels meet to sing? life's journey seems about complete; i con it well, yet know not why. my heart with longings is replete, and yet i do not long to die. a holy calm my bosom fills, and silence like the hush of morn; such joy through all my being thrills as swept men's hearts when christ was born. amid the crowds i look around to see who bear love's fragrant flower; i fain would walk on holy ground made sacred by the spirit's power. god has the keeping of my ways, his laws i rev'rence and obey; my prayers seem almost turned to praise, and yet i can not cease to pray. if this is death, i do not dread to lay me down in peace to die-- to be with all the sainted dead, far, far beyond the arching sky. closing exhortation. god has forgiven you all your sins; he has sanctified you wholly. you stand to-day in the way of life; you are fully out upon the christian way. you have on the whole armor of god. you possess the power of god's spirit in your soul, the love of god is in your heart as a burning flame. you are tasting the sweet joys that flow from heaven's throne. in your soul is imprinted the image of jesus. your heart is a garden of opening buds, which emit the sweet fragrance of heaven. but, notwithstanding all this blessedness of experience, i want you to remember you are just starting on the pilgrim's way. i thought of bringing this little work to a close with the preceding letter, but it seems that i am loath to say the last word. i wonder if there is one word more i can say to help you in your christian race. it is impossible for me to express how my heart yearns in love and tenderness for you. god wants to use your life on earth to his glory. he wants you so to shine in the glory and splendor of his grace that you may light others in the way. he wants the opening buds of grace in your soul to burst into full bloom. he wants to lead you higher up the mountain of joy, to the very fount of blessings. he wants to lead you down into the lowly vale where there are greater riches than gold. he wants his image in your heart to stand out in greater beauty and perfection; the features are yet too dim. while in this life your immortal soul is wrapped about with a veil of mortality; but god wants to shine such a radiant light and amaranthine glory into your soul that the veil of mortality will not be able wholly to obscure it. it will shine out through the material part and glow in transparent beauty upon the surface. if you will follow where he leads, he will lead you on from virtue to deeper, truer virtue; he will lead you on to fountains of sweeter joy. it may be through the vale of sorrow; but never fear nor distrust, and you will find your joy rising higher in the cup. if you will follow, he will lead you from peace on to broader, deeper rivers of peace. it may be through angry billows and past rough rocks; but if you trust him and follow on, he will bring you to yet calmer and more peaceful waters. if you will stay in his presence, he will impart unto you his own lovely character, and you will grow up into a holier life, into sweeter fellowship with god, into richer beauty and greater usefulness. he will sometimes call you where the flowers are blooming and sweet fragrance fills the air, where the birds sing sweetly and the zephyrs blow gently; he will lead you along the rippling streams, and delight your soul with the music of the wave; he will lead you through the shady glens and leafy bowers,--until your soul will sing, "is not this the land of beulah?" but he may sometimes lead you through the desert, or over the rugged mountain, or across the stormy seas; he may lead you away from all that is dear to your heart; he may lead you into paths where the shadows lie deep, and thorns spring up on every side. he will lead you on to duties that may oftentimes seem too hard for you to do; but this one thing i assure you in jesus' name: he will never call you to a duty or a sacrifice but that will prove a blessing to your soul and enrich you in his grace. you must follow on. to get the sweetness out of your life, he may sometimes bruise you. there are flowers that emit but little fragrance until they are bruised. many trials, no doubt, are awaiting you; but do not live them until you get to them, then his grace will be sufficient for you. in closing, i beseech you from the fulness of my heart to follow jesus all the way. let nothing turn you back. never mind the storms and cruel winds. what if the thorns prick your feet? they pierced his brow. what if the duties do seem hard and the way seems weary? follow on, linger in his presence, breathe in of his fulness, live in humble submission, never murmur but in every sorrow draw the closer to him, never falter, labor on, and you will find joys in every sorrow, blessings in every sacrifice, and delights in every duty. he will perfume your life with the odor of heaven and make you a blessing on earth to man. he will make your life a well of water where many a weary traveler may drink and thirst no more; he will make it a tree of life where they may eat and hunger no more. and when life is done he will bring you with all your golden sheaves through the gates of glory into the haven of eternal rest, where i hope to meet you. with this, i will say farewell. [illustration] book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the google books project.) transcriber's note. apparent typographical errors have been corrected, as have inconsistencies in the use of hyphens. a table of contents has been inserted to assist the reader. italics are indicated by _underscores_. small capitals have been replaced by full capitals. evening incense. by the author of "morning and night watches," "words of jesus," etc., etc. philadelphia: h. hooker, chestnut & eighth streets. . king & baird, printers, sansom street. "and thou shalt make an altar to burn incense upon: "and thou shalt put it ... before the mercy-seat that is over the testimony, where i will meet with thee. "and when aaron lighteth the lamps at even, he shall burn incense upon it."--exod. xxx. , , . "the star-lit sky's a temple-arch, the calm, still, evening air is glorious with the spirit-march of messengers of prayer. "are gentle moon, or kindling sun, or stars unnumbered, given as shrines to burn earth's incense on-- the altar-fires of heaven? "nay! pale away must moon and sun, and star by star decline; o be, thou ever living one, thy 'golden altar'--mine!" evening incense. the writer has endeavored in the following pages to comply with frequent requests made to him to prepare a small volume of _evening_ prayers, suitable as a companion to the "_morning_ watches." may he with whom is "the residue of the spirit," "cause his angel to fly swiftly" and touch us in the time of our evening oblation; and may all that is amiss in thought and word be lost in the fragrant incense-cloud which ascends from the golden altar before the throne! _december, ._ table of contents evening page i. for communion with god. ii. for pardoning grace. iii. for renewing grace. iv. for sanctifying grace. v. for restraining grace. vi. for restoring grace. vii. for quickening grace. viii. for imputed righteousness. ix. for peace in believing. x. for the spirit of adoption. xi. for weanedness from the world. xii. for gratitude for the past. xiii. for trust for the future. xiv. for knowledge of christ. xv. for guidance in perplexity. xvi. for victory over sin. xvii. for the life of faith. xviii. for the daily death. xix. for renunciation of self. xx. for a child-like spirit. xxi. for heavenward progress. xxii. for humility of heart. xxiii. for firmness in temptation. xxiv. for composure in trial. xxv. for activity in duty. xxvi. for the spirit's teaching. xxvii. for the world's conversion. xxviii. for the church's revival. xxix. for support in death. xxx. for preparation for judgment. xxxi. for meeting in heaven. first evening. for communion with god. "abide with us; for it is towards evening, and the day is far spent."--luke xxiv. . o god, i desire to approach thy throne of grace on the evening of this day, beseeching thee to grant me thy benediction and blessing. the shadows of night have once more gathered around me; may no shadow of sin or unbelief darken my soul, or interrupt my communion with thee. "it is not night if thou art near." let me enter the inner chamber of thy presence, and experience conscious fellowship with thee my father in heaven. do thou graciously forgive all the sins of the past day, its sins of omission and of commission, of thought, and word, and deed. hide me anew in the clefts of the smitten rock. i confidently repose my everlasting interests on the finished work and righteousness of a tried redeemer. may i know more and more of the attractive power of his cross--the adaptation of his character and work to all the wants and weaknesses, the sorrows and infirmities, of my tried and suffering and tempted nature. may i live more under the sovereign motive of love to him, and experience more the happiness of life spent in his service. gracious lord! may a sense of thy favor penetrate with its leavening power every duty in which i engage, lessening every cross and sweetening every care. take what thou wilt away, but take not thyself; no earthly good can compensate for the loss of thy friendship. existence would be one vast blank without thee. give me to realize the blessedness of unfaltering dependence on thy covenant mercy, knowing that all which befalls me is the pledge and dictate of unerring love, and that nothing can come wrong that comes from thy hand. thus while my daily walk is hallowed and brightened by thy presence and fellowship, may i be enabled to look calm and undismayed on the unknown and chequered future, feeling that even over the gloomy portals of the grave, with thee as my portion and heritage, i can write, "to die is gain!" meanwhile do thou fit me for every duty, prepare me for every trial. if thou givest me the "full cup," give me grace to carry it with a steady hand. if thou sendest adversity, let me regard it as thine own gracious discipline, to wean me from earth and train me for glory. may it be my great ambition, through the help of thy blessed spirit, to attain a gradual resemblance to the character and conformity to the will of my adorable redeemer. may i be clothed with humility. may i be daily becoming more meek and gentle, more contented and thankful, more submissive and resigned, watching against anything in my heart or conduct that i know would be displeasing to thee, making it my meat and my drink to do thy holy will. thou unslumbering shepherd of israel, vouchsafe thy guardian care to all near and dear to me: shield them from danger: give thine angels charge over them; sanctify them body, soul, and spirit; seal them unto the day of eternal redemption. may we all lie down to sleep this night in thy fear, and awake in thy favor, fitted for the duties of a new day. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." second evening. for pardoning grace. "for thy name's sake, o lord, pardon mine iniquity; for it is great."--ps. xxv. . gracious god! do thou look down upon me this night in thy great mercy. may i have now the inner sunshine of thy presence! ere i retire to rest, let me pitch my tent near thyself, and enjoy the tokens of thy favor and blessing. thy loving-kindness has been new to me every morning, and thy faithfulness every night. i desire to render thee the thank-offering of a grateful heart. my life is one wondrous attestation to thy patience and forbearance. the kindness of the best earthly friend has been nothing to thine. thou mightest long ere now have left me to reap the fruits of my own guilty estrangement, withdrawing the grace and spirit i have so long resisted, executing against me the awful doom of the cumberer. but i am still spared, a living monument of mercy. thy ways are not as man's ways, nor thy thoughts as man's thoughts. lord, i would seek anew this night to close with the alone sovereign remedy! jesus! there is no other prop but thee to support a sinking soul and a sinking world. there is nothing between me and everlasting destruction but thy glorious work and finished righteousness. i rejoice to think that it is all i need--living or dying, for time or for eternity. o blot out in thy precious blood my many, many sins. nothing in my own hands i bring; i cling simply to thy cross. mercy and truth have there met together; righteousness and peace have embraced each other. reposing in what thou has done, and in what thou art still willing to do, i can rejoicingly say, "return unto thy rest, o my soul." bring me to live more habitually under the constraining influence of redeeming love. purchased at such a price, may i be willing freely to consecrate soul and body to thy service. let me feel that the bitterest of all trials is the forfeiture of thy favor and love, and the loftiest joy is the assured possession of thy gracious friendship. may my spirit be brought into blessed unison with thine. may i become more gentle, and resigned, and submissive, and unselfish; more heavenly-minded; more saviour-like. may i be led to regard _all_, even thy darkest dealings to me here, as needful parts in thy plan of stupendous wisdom. may i rest contented in the assurance that what i know not now i shall know hereafter. unite me to all my dear friends, and them to me, in the bonds of christian love. amid all the fluctuations of this mortal life, may we ever have grace given us to cleave unto the lord with full purpose of heart. treading the same pilgrim-journey, may we arrive at last at the same pilgrim-home. i would retire to rest this night with my eye on the opened fountain. o give me that peace of thine which the world knoweth not of, which the world cannot give, and, blessed be god, which the world cannot take away! abide with me, for it is towards evening, and the day is far spent. give thine angels charge over me during the unconscious hours of sleep, and, when all my evenings and mornings shall be finished, may it be mine to wake up with thyself in glory everlasting, through jesus christ my only lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." third evening. for renewing grace. "renew a right spirit within me."--psalm li. . blessed god, i desire anew to end this night with thee! do thou enkindle my soul as with a live coal from off thy holy altar! let all unhallowed and obtrusive thoughts and cares be set aside, that i may enjoy a season of fellowship with the father and with his son jesus christ. i rejoice to think that i have such a friend to repair to--such a never-failing refuge in every season of perplexity and trouble; vicissitude is written on all around me, but "thou art the same." though often, alas! i have changed towards thee, thou hast never changed towards me. thou didst love me from the beginning, and that love remains to this hour, infinite, unalterable! lord, i am mourning over my many and grievous backslidings, my base and unworthy requital of all thine unmerited kindness. bring me in poverty of spirit, with deep conscious unworthiness, to say, "god be merciful to me a sinner." give me a realizing sense of the evil of sin, and my own sin in particular. i feel that i have no abiding and depressing consciousness of my guilt. how little of genuine, heartfelt contrition do i experience! how often i _appear_ to be humble and penitent when i am _not_! how do my very prayers condemn me; and my confessions of sin need themselves to be confessed! oh renew me in the spirit of my mind.--may all old things pass away; may all things be made new. transform me by the indwelling power of thy quickening spirit. may affections now alienated from thee be reclaimed to thy service. may i seek to be more animated by the sovereign motive of love to him, whose i am, and whom it is alike my duty and my privilege to obey. knowing that this is thy will concerning me, even my sanctification, may it be my constant ambition to be growing in grace and in the knowledge of the lord and saviour jesus christ. i have in myself no might, no power, no sufficiency, to do any of these things. my sufficiency is of thee. do thou make thy grace sufficient for me, and perfect strength in weakness. keep me from all evil that would be likely to grieve me. wean me from all that is fleeting and perishable here, and may all thy dealings towards me issue in the confirmed habit of a holy life. if thou sendest affliction, let me regard it as thine own way of dispensing spiritual blessing, and bow with lowly submission to thy sovereign appointments. bless all my beloved friends. keep them as the apple of thine eye. hide them under the shadow of thy everlasting wings. sanctify trial to all in sorrow. let the widow and the fatherless put their trust in thee. succor the poor and him that hath no helper. support the aged. sustain the dying. may we all bear one another's burdens and so fulfil the law of christ. as the pillar of cloud has been with me by day, so may the pillar of fire be with me this night. watch over me during the unconscious hours of sleep, and when i awake may i be still with thee. and all i ask is for the sake of jesus christ, my only saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." fourth evening. for sanctifying grace. "sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth."--john xvii. . blessed lord, do thou bend thy pitying eye of love and mercy upon me this evening. draw thou near to me as i venture once more on praying and on pleading ground. i desire to feel that i am one night nearer glory. oh, enable me to feel, as night after night is silently stealing over my head, that my seasons and opportunities of grace are fleeting fast away, and that soon the night cometh, wherein i can work no more. alas! o god, how little have i improved the time that is past! i am a wonder to myself, that with all my deep ingratitude and utter vileness i am yet permitted to approach thy footstool: i have sinned against light and love--warning and mercy--grace and privilege. the retrospect of life is a retrospect of guilt. i mourn over my manifold shortcomings--the alienation of my heart from thee--the fitfulness of my spiritual frames--the ebbings and flowings in the tide of my love. when tried by the lofty and unerring standard of thy law, how are my best actions and duties marred with defilement! how much self-seeking and self-glorying--how little animated by the predominating motive of love to thee, and singleness of eye to thy service! blessed jesus! i flee anew to the pavilion of thy love. i have no other hope, no other refuge, but in thy finished work--thy matchless atonement--thy spotless righteousness. there is in thee an all-sufficiency for every want. finite necessities cannot exhaust infinite fullness. let me hear thy voice saying, "thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven thee!" o sprinkle me with thy blood; sanctify me, body, soul, and spirit. transform me more and more into thine own image. may i know more and more the happiness of true holiness--that i am really blessed in seeking to walk so as to please god. may the power of grace wax stronger and stronger, and the power of sin wax weaker and weaker. may trials and crosses become light and easy to me when borne in a spirit of meek, unrepining submission to the divine will. may this quiet every doubt and misgiving, "your heavenly father knoweth that ye have need of all these things." lord, may every providential dealing prove a heart-searcher, testing the reality of my love to thee, and my meetness and preparedness for thy heavenly kingdom. extend, lord, thy cause and gospel everywhere. strengthen thy missionary and ministering servants. may they ever hear the sound of their master's footsteps behind them. may thy churches walk in the fear of god and in the comfort of the holy ghost. bless all my beloved friends wherever they are; do thou be their almighty protector and guide. let the angel come at this the time of evening incense, touching all our hearts, and granting us an answer to our several petitions. let us rise to-morrow refreshed for thy service; and fitted for whatsoever in thy good providence we may be called either to do or to suffer. hear me, gracious god, for the sake of him whom thou hearest always. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." fifth evening. for restraining grace. "keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins."--psalm xix. . blessed god, thou hast in thy mercy permitted me to see the close of another day. with what unwearying watchfulness has thou been compassing my path!--defending me from danger, guarding me from temptation, hedging up my way with thorns, "preventing me with the blessings of thy goodness!" there is no friend in the world i have like thee; none so able, none so willing to be my friend. if i have been successful in resisting sin, it is all thy blessed grace which has enabled me. from how many slippery places has thou rescued me! when often on the brink of the precipice, ready to fall, thy interposing hand has saved me from inevitable destruction. when through my own weakness and unwatchfulness i must now have been wandering in hopeless alienation from thee, thou hast mercifully not suffered the bruised reed to be broken, nor the smoking flax to be quenched. lord, my earnest prayer is that thy grace may still be made sufficient for me. may no spiritual foe be allowed to invade my peace or endanger my safety. let thy love be restored to its rightful ascendancy in my affections. may no rival be allowed to usurp its place. may i ever exercise a holy jealousy over this truant, wandering, deceitful heart; seeking day by day to subdue unmortified sin. may all thy dispensations issue in my sanctification. let me seek no unruffled path; may the cross be willingly carried. thou lovest me too well to give me my own way. whatever thy will and thy dealings may be, be it mine cheerfully and rejoicingly to acquiesce in them, knowing them to be the dictate of infinite wisdom and unchanging love. may all my worldly business and engagements be interfused and hallowed with the blessed sense and assurance of thy favor! walking all the day in the light of thy countenance, i must be safe! god of bethel--god of all the families of the earth, vouchsafe thy richest benediction on all near and dear to me. give thine angels charge over them; let their names be written among the living in jerusalem; and oh, may we all seek in our several spheres to glorify thee on earth, either by active duty or by patient endurance; exemplifying in our daily walk the meek and lowly, the unselfish and self-denying, spirit of him, who hath left us an example that we should follow his steps. hasten the coming of thy son's kingdom. arise, o god, and plead thine own cause. "save thy people, bless thine inheritance, feed them also and lift them up for ever." the curtain of night is again drawn around me. if it be thy will, spare me to see the light and enjoy the comforts of a new day; may i seek anew to enjoy them in thee; may every blessing be doubly sweet to me, bearing the impress of thy love in jesus. guide me _in_ life, _through_ death, _into_ glory, for the sake of him in whom is all my hope, and to whom, with thee the father, and thee, ever-blessed spirit, one god, be ascribed all blessing and honor and glory and praise, world without end. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." sixth evening. for restoring grace. "restore unto me the joy of thy salvation."--ps. li. . blessed god, i rejoice to know that the gates of prayer are ever open;--that for the sake of jesus christ, my adorable redeemer, thou art waiting to be gracious, not willing that any should perish. come in the plenitude of thy love this evening, that i may feel it to be good for me to draw near to god! scatter my darkness, thou better sun, with the brightness of thy rising. give me filial confidence in approaching the mercy-seat, rejoicing in the mightiest of all beings as my father and friend. blessed jesus! i would exercise a simple confidence and trust in thy finished work, i would seek to wash anew in the opened fountain of thy blood, to repose anew in the faithful saying which never can cease, to the sin-stricken, sin-burdened soul, to be worthy of all acceptation, that thou didst come into the world to save the chief of sinners. i have to mourn, o lord, my constant proneness to depart from thee--the instability of my best purposes of obedience. unsupported by thy grace i must fall. there is nothing, o thou great intercessor within the veil, but thine omnipotent pleadings between me and irretrievable ruin. but thou hast prayed, and art even now praying, for me that my faith fail not. oh if i am still prone to start aside, like a deceitful bow, do thou bring me back again! reclaim my truant heart from its wanderings. i would cast myself with simple dependence on thy grace for the future. this is sufficient for all wants and equal to all exigencies. thine everlasting arms are lower than my deepest necessities. adorable saviour, i may well cast my every care on thee, for these cares thou makest thine own. thou hast a heart to feel for those who have often no heart to feel for themselves. oh let me ever seek to hear thy directing voice and to hear no other. do thou carry on within me thine own work in thine own way. thou, great shepherd of israel, canst not lead me wrong. i delight to trace thy guiding love in the past, and i may well trust thee still; going up through the wilderness may i lean on thine arm; when i come to die may the gloom of the dark valley be lighted with the rays of thy love, and may i hear thy voice whispering in gentle accents, "fear not, for i am with thee." be gracious to all my beloved friends. train them also, by thy good spirit, for eternity. fit them for every duty. arm them against every temptation. dispose them to fear thy glorious name, and to live from day to day under the powers and influences of a world to come. compassionate the afflicted; comfort the bereaved; support the dying. lord, take the charge of me during the silent watches of another night. may i rise on the morrow to renew my work and warfare on earth, looking forward to the time when the twilight of this world shall melt into everlasting day, and when nothing shall evermore mar or interrupt the blessedness of endless communion with thee: through jesus christ, my only lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." seventh evening. for quickening grace. "quicken me after thy loving kindness, so shall i keep the testimony of thy mouth."--psalm cxix. . o god, on this the close of another day, i desire to approach the footstool of thy throne. glory be to thy holy name that i can enjoy freedom of access into thy presence, and with the confidence of a child unburden and unbosom to thee all my wants and sins, my sorrows and infirmities, my perplexities and cares. lord, how unworthy i am of the least of all thy mercies! what righteous cause hast thou to cut me down as a cumberer of the ground. how cold my love, how unfrequent my prayers! how full my heart of pride and vain-glory, self and sin! how little have i habitually realized thy nearness and sought thy favor as my chief good! there is enough of coldness and formality in my best approaches to thy footstool to lead thee in thy wrath to spurn me forever away, and to mingle my blood with my sacrifices! i cast myself as a worthless unworthy sinner at the feet of jesus. i need daily, hourly washing at that fountain which he has opened for sin and for uncleanness. wash me, gracious lord, fully, freely, and forever. let me know the blessedness of "no condemnation." deepen my contrition on account of my sin. i am apt to palliate its enormity, to invent vain excuses for its commission, to hide its heinousness from myself, and to hide it from thee. let me see all sin, and my own sin in particular, in the light of calvary's cross. may i hate it with a perfect hatred, and resolve in thy grace that it henceforth have no dominion over me. oh quicken me by the indwelling of thy blessed spirit. may i seek to be progressing in the divine life. may my pathway heavenward be brightened by a lively sense of reconciliation through the blood of the everlasting covenant. let me lean on thy heavenly arm, seeking thy glory with singleness of eye. may it be my greatest grief to give thee pain, my greatest joy and happiness to do thy will. keep me from all hard thoughts and unrighteous surmises regarding thy dealings. may i see them all as designed to quicken my steps in the heavenly way, to bring me nearer thyself, and to impart an increasing meetness for glory. let thy kingdom come, let thy blessed gospel triumph over the pride and superstition and will-worship of man. put an end to war and discord, and may all the ends of the earth see thy salvation. bless thy ministering servants; may they be valiant for the truth, and have no fear but the fear of god. be the guide and guardian of all whom i love. preserve their bodies from danger and their souls from sin. watch over them and me this night; be about our bed as thou hast been about our path. night after night as i retire to rest may i think of the deeper darkness of the night of death, which must, sooner or later encompass me. reposing in the merits of my gracious redeemer, may i be enabled to look _beyond_ death and the grave, to that morning without clouds, when i shall awake in his likeness, and be ushered into the full vision and fruition of thee my god; and all that i ask or hope for is for his sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." eighth evening. for imputed righteousness. "even the righteousness of god which is by faith of jesus christ unto all and upon all them that believe."--rom. iii. . almighty god, father of all mercies, i desire to draw near into thy sacred presence on this the evening of another day, under a deep sense of my own great unworthiness. what am i, guilty, sinful, polluted, that i should be permitted to take thy name into my lips, or so much as lift up my eyes to the place where thou in glory dwellest! i desire to renounce all dependence on myself. i come with all the great burden of my great guilt to a great saviour. i seek to bring the unrighteousness of an unworthy creature to the infinite righteousness and everlasting faithfulness of a tried redeemer. where would i have been, blessed jesus! this night, _but for thee_! all i am, and all i have, i owe to thy free, sovereign, unmerited grace. all my temporal mercies are sweetened to me as flowing from thy cross, and bearing on them the image and superscription of thy love. and for every spiritual blessing i enjoy, and every spiritual hope i entertain, i desire doubly to adore thee, thou great author and finisher of my faith! whom have i in heaven but thee, and there is none in all the earth i desire besides thee. thou alone canst fill up the aching voids of my heart. in vain can i look to a transient world, or to the perishable creature, for solid peace and permanent enjoyment. all my well-springs are in thyself; with thee for my portion i am independent of every other. i desire this night to obtain a lively and humbling view of my own spiritual poverty and deep creature destitution, that i may rejoice in the fullness and all-sufficiency of that righteousness which is unto all and upon all them that believe. in that righteousness i would seek to live, and in that righteousness i would seek to die. there is nothing else between me and everlasting ruin. but for thee, thou great covenant-angel standing in the breach, the fire of god would break forth and mingle my blood with this my evening sacrifice! but i "will greatly rejoice in the lord, my soul shall be joyful in my god, for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with a robe of righteousness." i take thee, o adorable saviour, as mine only, mine wholly; mine for all wants and all exigencies. i rejoice in the inexhaustible riches treasured up in thee--that thy fullness is adequate to supply all my present necessities; and out of that fullness i may still continue receiving, and that for ever and ever! lord, look in great kindness on all whom i love. pity a perishing world. arrest the careless; reclaim the wandering; strengthen the feeble. hasten thy son's coming and kingdom. how long shall the wicked, how long shall the wicked triumph? save thy people; bless thine inheritance; feed them also, and lift them up for ever. let the curtain of thy protecting providence be drawn around me this night. let me fall asleep at peace with thee, ready, if need be, to awake up in glory. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." ninth evening. for peace in believing. "therefore being justified by faith we have peace with god through our lord jesus christ."--rom. v. . gracious god, i would seek to end another day with thee; i would desire to look up to thee through jesus christ, thy well-beloved son, and to be made partaker of that peace which passeth all understanding. there is no other refuge for the sin-stricken, woe-worn spirit. in vain amid other portions and meaner joys can i say to my soul "peace, peace." there is no peace! but reposing, blessed saviour, on thy finished work and everlasting righteousness, i have a peace which the world knows not of, and which enables me to rise superior to all the vicissitudes and changes of this changing life. i desire to remember with a grateful heart that this peace has been purchased for me by the blood of the cross--that it is made as sure as everlasting power and wisdom and faithfulness can make it. o thou great prince, who hast power with god and dost prevail, i would lift the undivided eye of faith to thy bleeding sacrifice! do thou dispel every disquieting fear with the thought that thou hast done all, and suffered all, and procured all for me. being justified by faith, i have peace with god through the lord jesus christ. i rejoice in the plenitude of thy promises, that they are all yea and amen to them that believe. man's word may fail, man's faithfulness may falter, but "the word of the lord is tried," thy faithfulness is unto all generations! o god, enable me to rejoice more and more in thee as my everlasting portion. may i know nothing to compare with the enjoyment of thy favor. other props may be removed, other refuges may prove refuges of lies, but thou art the strength of my heart and my portion for ever. give me grace to be active in thy service while it is called to-day. opportunities are fleeting. the night cometh wherein none of us can work. may simple believing be followed by the earnest cultivation of every christian virtue, and by progressive advancement in the heavenly life. may i faithfully employ the talents thou hast intrusted to me, and seek never to be weary in well doing. preserve me from every unholy temper and unchristian deed. may i be gentle and meek, patient and forgiving, kind and benevolent, living in charity towards all men. on all my beloved friends i supplicate thy richest blessing. protect them with thy favor as with a shield. sanctify them, body, soul, and spirit. seal them unto the day of eternal redemption. bless all poor afflicted ones. let them receive largely out of the wells of thine own everlasting consolation. let them see thy sovereign hand alone in their trials, and say with unrepining submission, "the lord's will be done!" lord, take the charge of me through the silent watches of the night. may i fall asleep listening to the gracious benediction, "peace be unto you." and when the gates of the morning are opened, may it be to hear anew thy voice saying, "my presence will go with you." hear, accept, and answer me, for the redeemer's sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." tenth evening. for the spirit of adoption. "ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, abba, father."--rom. viii. . blessed lord! i desire to draw near this night with holy boldness to the footstool of thy throne, rejoicing that i can look up to thee as my father in heaven. "behold what manner of love is this the father hath bestowed on me, that i should be called a child of god." thou mightest have righteously left me orphaned, friendless, portionless for ever. but in the midst of wrath thou hast remembered mercy: the kindness of no earthly parent, o god, could equal thine. thou hast borne with all my obstinacy, all my perverseness, and waywardness, and ingratitude. i am at this hour the monument of a love as wondrous as it is undeserved. oh teach me to cultivate more and more a spirit of child-like obedience to thee; to cherish a holy fear of offending so kind and forgiving and beneficent a father. whilst thou art strewing my wilderness path with unmerited blessings, may i be enabled to rise above every earthly gift and mercy to the better inheritance i have in thee, the bountiful bestower of all! let me feel every created blessing to be doubly sweet, as emanating from a father's hand, and being a proof and pledge of a father's love. let the hour of prayer be doubly hallowed by the thought that i am permitted to haunt a father's presence, and pour my wants into a father's ear. let the season of sorrow be sweetened by the thought that the rod is in a father's hand, and that the voice, though apparently rough, is the tender whispering of parental love. blessed jesus! i desire to remember that it is thou and thou only who hast not left me "comfortless." it is thou who hast devised and completed a way by which "thy banished" may not be "expelled" from a father's presence. thou hast opened a door of welcome to the chief of sinners. it is thy blessed voice and thy glorious work which utter the gracious declaration, "in my father's house there are many mansions." oh let me lean with a more simple and entire dependence on thee; let me live from day to day with an unfaltering trust in thy mercy. may every new evening, as it finds me laying the incense-offering of gratitude and love on thine altar, find me also a stage nearer my father's house, nearer _home_, and nearer _thee_. take all my beloved friends under thy shadowing wings this night. the darkness can not screen them from thee; the curtains of night can not exclude thy kind and watchful eye. guide, guard, protect them, and bring them all at last to thy heavenly kingdom. bless thy church everywhere; lengthen her cords and strengthen her stakes. be a wall of fire around thy zion and the glory in the midst thereof. clothe her priests with salvation, let her saints and people shout aloud for joy. bless those on whom thou hast laid thine afflicting hand. may they take refuge in the arms that are chastising them, and be enabled to say in unmurmuring submission, "the lord's will be done." hear me, gracious father, for the sake of jesus christ, my blessed lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." eleventh evening. for weanedness from the world. "they are not of the world, even as i am not of the world."--john xvii. . o god, i desire to come into thy gracious presence this night, beseeching thee to bless me. let my prayer come before thee as incense. may the incense-offering of gratitude and thanksgiving ascend from a grateful heart. how manifold are the proofs i have to recount of kindness on thy part! how deep the ingratitude i have to mourn on my own! my sins have reached unto the clouds; they are more in number than the sand of the sea. thou art of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. i cannot evade thy righteous scrutiny; all things are naked and open unto the eyes of him with whom i have to do! lord, i have to lament the proneness of this evil heart of unbelief ever to depart away from thee, the living god. i mourn the debasing influence of earthly things; the fascinating power of a present evil world. how inclined to conform to its evil maxims and unholy practices! how often am i found ranged among those who "mind earthly things;" my soul cleaving to the dust, instead of soaring upwards to thyself, my alone satisfying portion! lord, it is my earnest prayer that thou wouldst wean me from the world. keep me from over-anxiety about the things that are seen--from being over-careful and troubled about earth's "many things," to the exclusion of the one thing needful! break every alluring worldly spell; disenchant things temporal of their false and delusive charm; disengage me by all the salutary discipline of thy providence from what is fleeting, uncertain, transient, perishable; and unite me to the things which cannot be shaken, but which remain forever! may my citizenship be more in heaven; imbibing more of the pilgrim spirit, may i declare plainly that i seek a better country. may the sins of the past day be forgiven; may the blood of sprinkling wash their guilt away. may i be driven nearer and closer to him who is the true refuge and portion, and saviour of his people. i rejoice to think that he has a balm for every wound, a comfort for every bosom, a solace for every tear. may it be mine to go up through the wilderness leaning on his arm. may thy holy spirit carry on his own work of sanctification within me. may he enlighten, quicken, comfort, strengthen me; and mould me in gradual conformity to thy divine will. bless all connected with me, by whatever tie. when earth's separations are at an end, do thou take me and all dear to me to the enjoyment of thy presence and love in thine own everlasting kingdom. let the pillar of thy presence be over us this night. guard me during sleep's unconscious hours. let no unquiet dreams disturb my repose; may i compose myself to rest under the sweet assurance that thou the lord sustainest me; and when i awake, may i be still with thee, through jesus christ, my only lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twelfth evening. for gratitude for the past. "bless the lord, o my soul, and forget not all his benefits."--psalm ciii. . o god almighty, do thou draw near to me at this time in thy great mercy, and accept of this my evening sacrifice! i bless thee for all that gladdens my earthly lot, for food and raiment, for friends and home, for health of body and soundness of mind. lord, i delight to trace the wondrous way by which thou hast hitherto led me! thou hast compassed my path and my lying down. thou hast supplied my ever-recurring necessities. my wants have been infinite, but infinite too has been the gracious supply. with a grateful heart i would set up my ebenezer, saying, "hitherto hath the lord helped me." and remembering thy faithfulness in the past, i would confidently trust thee for the future. may i thankfully employ the manifold gifts of thy bounty. impress upon me the feeling that i am but a steward, responsible to thee for all i possess. let me not selfishly appropriate the varied means of usefulness thou hast put within my power, but willingly employ these in thy service for the good of others. when thou comest to demand a reckoning, may i be able to give a faithful account of my stewardship, paying thee thine own with usury. lord, while i bless thee for the other proofs and tokens of thy love, far above all would i bless thee for _jesus_. where would i have been this night but for _him_? how dreary would have been the past! how dismal and hopeless the future! thanks, eternal thanks be unto god for his unspeakable gift! let me feel, more than i _have_ done, the exceeding riches of thy grace in thy kindness toward me through christ jesus. let all thy dealings only serve to confirm my love to him, and to lead me to cleave to him with fuller purpose of heart. may he have my undivided homage. let no earthly gift or blessing supplant the giver, but may every rill of creative bliss be doubly sweet to me as flowing from his atoning sacrifice. i rejoice in the midst of trial and perplexity to think of thee, thou tried and suffering _one_. i rejoice that amid my sorrows i can remember _thine_, that amid my very tears, i can remember _jesus wept_. thou canst enter into all the peculiarities of thy people's case, for thou wert in "_all_ points tempted." let me feel, even amid the changes of life, that what i am apt to call vicissitudes, are the sovereign decrees and allotments of thine infinite wisdom; and what i cannot comprehend now, be it mine to wait the disclosures of that blessed morning when, standing at the luminous portals of heaven, i shall joyfully acknowledge that the lord hath done all things well. bless my beloved friends; may they be growing in thy fear and favor; may they all at last, as sheaves in thy heavenly garner, be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of jesus christ. i commend myself, gracious god, to thy care; let me retire to rest this night in the blessed consciousness of thy favor; and if spared to see the light of a new day, fit me for whatsoever thou hast in store for me. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." thirteenth evening. for trust for the future. "i will trust, and be not afraid."--isaiah xii. . o god, thou makest the outgoings of the evening and the morning to rejoice over me. i thank thee for thy sparing mercy during the past day. while multitudes of my fellow-men have been called away into an eternal world, i am still preserved in the land of the living, and in the place of hope. it is of thy compassions alone that i am not consumed. my way zionward may well be studded with ebenezers, testifying "the lord hath helped me." i may well set to my seal that god is true. the pillar of thy presence has guided me through many a perplexing path. thy love has smiled through many a threatening cloud. thy restraining grace has arrested me in many a slippery way; when "my soul was among lions," how often has the lord "sent his angel" to rescue me and shut the lions' mouths. i am this night a marvel and miracle of thy patience, and forbearance, and mercy. lord, i joyfully take all these past kindnesses as tokens for the future. to thee i would confidingly commit the unknown morrow, and cleave to thy guiding arm with full purpose of heart. the lot is thrown into the lap, but the whole disposing of it is of the lord; o, be it my joy and privilege, thus reposing in thy covenant faithfulness, to say, "undertake thou for me." looking forward to that time when all thy inscrutable dealings will be unfolded, when inner meanings and purposes now undiscerned by the eye of sense will be brought to light, and all discovered to be full of infinite love. keep me from dishonoring thee by the workings of unbelief; i am prone to trust my own wisdom, o give me teachableness of spirit and simplicity of faith, waiting patiently on thee; leaving all that concerns me and mine to thy better direction. blessed jesus! i would seek to cleave closer and closer to thy cross. i have no trust but in thy finished work. other refuges may fail, but i am as secure in thee as everlasting love and wisdom and power can make me. o cleanse every guilty stain away in thy most precious blood. let me live day by day at the opened fountain, and feel that i _only_ "live" while _there_. thus simply relying on thy justifying grace, may i seek to walk in thy footsteps and to imbibe thy spirit. may i follow thee, o lamb of god, whithersoever thou seest meet to lead me. may i never feel as if i would wish one jot or tittle regarding me altered, when the reins of empire are in thy hands. take my beloved friends under thy special care. watch over them, provide for them, decide for them. in all their ways may they acknowledge thee, and in all things seek thy honor and glory. pity the afflicted. stay thy rough wind in the day of thy east wind. let them rejoice that every bitter drop in the cup of life is appointed by thee. may they submissively drink it, saying, "thy will be done!" hear, lord, the voice of my supplications, when thou hearest, forgive, and grant me an answer in peace, seeing all that i ask is in the name and for the sake of jesus christ, my only saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." fourteenth evening. for knowledge of christ. "that i may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings."--phil. iii. . almighty god, do thou draw near to me this night in thy great mercy. what am i, that infinite unworthiness and nothingness should be permitted to stand in the presence of infinite purity, majesty, and glory? lord, i dare not have ventured to bow at thy footstool in my own merits. i am poor and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. enter not in judgment with thy servant, for in thy sight no flesh living can be justified. but, adored be thy name, i have an all-sufficient ground of confidence wherewith to approach thee. i bless thee, that by the doing and dying of jesus, thou hast opened up a way of reconciliation to the chief of sinners. oh, enable me to know more fully the adaptation of his person and work to all the necessities and exigencies of my character and circumstances. let me know him in his infinite godhead, as "mighty to save;" in his spotless humanity, as mighty to compassionate. let me know him in all his offices, as my prophet, my priest, my king; my kinsman-redeemer within the veil, my refuge in trouble, my guide in perplexity, my support in death, my portion through eternity. i rejoice, blessed jesus, at the hidden springs of life resident in thee! thou art suited to all the varied wants and circumstances, and trials of thy people--for every moment of need, for every diversity of situation. i can mourn no real blank, if i have thy presence and blessing. o thou, better than the best of earthly friends, who, though enthroned amid the hosannas of angels, hast still thy human sympathy unaltered and unchanged, draw near to me this night, and breathe upon me, and say, "peace be unto thee." let me know the melting energy of thy love, and the attractive power of thy cross. may i keep the unwavering eye of faith steadily directed to thy all-glorious sacrifice. be thou the habitual object of my contemplation, the source of holiest joy, the animating principle of obedience. may all creature love be subordinated to thine. may my temper, my walk, my conversation, be regulated in accordance with thy blessed will and holy example. may this be the lofty aim and ambition of life, to act so as to please jesus. bless my dear friends, may they too be led to count all but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of christ jesus their lord, whom to know is life eternal. pity the careless; reclaim the backsliding; comfort the sorrowful; sustain the dying. may the lord arise and have mercy on zion; may he show that the time to favor her, yea, the set time, is come! ere i lay my head on my nightly pillow, i would lay anew my guilt on the head of the divine surety; may i fall asleep under the blessed sense of sin forgiven, and look forward to that blessed day when earth's night-shadows shall have vanished forever, and when i shall be enabled more fully "to know the love of christ which passeth knowledge." and all i ask or hope for is for his sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." fifteenth evening. for guidance in perplexity. "cause me to know the way wherein i should walk; for i lift up my soul unto thee."--psalm cxliii. . o god, thy favor is life, thy loving-kindness is better than life. thy mercies have been new to me every morning, and thy faithfulness every night. thou hast watched over me from the earliest years of infancy with more than a father's care. the kindness of the kindest on earth has been coldness itself when compared with thine. i rejoice that i can thus trace in a wondrous past the visible footsteps of thy love, and fearlessly trust and repose in thee for the future. thou art a rich provider. none so able, none so willing to guide me in every perplexity, to extricate me from every difficulty, and to befriend me amid the fitful changes of life. what a safe anchorage is this amid the world's restless surges of vicissitude, "the lord reigneth!" do thou enable me wholly to follow the lord my god; to follow thee not only in smooth places, but even when the path is rough and the way thorny. may i confide in the wisdom of all thine allotments. i rejoice that all the changes thou orderest for thy covenant people are changes for the _better_, and not for the _worse_. o blessed jesus! thou who art the true pillar of cloud by day, and of fire by night, do thou precede me ever in all my wilderness wanderings. may i encamp only where thou leadest me. may i strike my tent only when thou speakest that i "go forward." let me experience the conscious happiness of knowing no will but thine, and of being solicitous in all things to follow the guiding voice and footsteps of the great shepherd of the flock. if there be aught in thy providence perplexing me now, i would say in child-like simplicity, "i am oppressed, undertake thou for me!" "my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than i." hide me in the crevices of that smitten rock; let me know the safety and joy of being shielded _there_, until earth's calamities be overpast. graciously forgive all the sins of this past day--the sins of thought, word and deed; all my selfishness and uncharitableness; all my pride and vain-glory; all my censoriousness and inconsideration of the wishes and feelings of others. blessed jesus! let me follow more closely thy holy footsteps, and drink more deeply of thy heavenly spirit. bless all in sorrow, sanctify to them their trials, may they see and own a "need be" in them all. prepare the dying for death, and spare useful lives. take all belonging to me this night under the shield of thy protecting providence, let them ever commit their way onto thee, and do thou bring it to pass. hold up their goings in thy word, that their footsteps may not stumble. watch over me during the unconscious hours of sleep; and when all my days and nights on earth are finished, may it be mine to enjoy thy presence in a cloudless, nightless heaven; through jesus christ, my blessed lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." sixteenth evening. for victory over sin. "sin shall not have dominion over you."--rom. vi. . o god, thou art of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. evil cannot dwell with thee, fools cannot stand in thy presence. thou hast solemnly declared, "thou canst by no means clear the guilty," and that "though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not escape unpunished." lord, i rejoice that i can draw near to thee in the name of him by whom the guilty _have_ been cleared; and through whom it is that a holy and righteous and sin-hating god can yet be holy and just, in the very act of justifying the ungodly. i desire to adore thee for all thy creative and providential goodness. thou hast loaded me with thy benefits. the past is paved with love. i see in the retrospect of life nothing but amazing, unmerited kindness, mercy upon mercy! amid manifold changes there has been no change in _thee_, no altered looks, no fainting or weariness or estrangement. amid the wanderings of my own fitful spirit i can write over every remembrance of the past, _but_ "_thou_ art the same!" i desire with penitence of soul to mourn my own ingratitude and sin, the desperate wickedness and deceitfulness of my own evil heart, the power of corruption, the mastery of self, the alienation of my affections from thee their rightful sovereign and lord. what an easy prey have i often fallen in the hour of temptation--by thought and word and deed dishonoring thy name and basely requiting thy love! father, i have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy child! give me genuine contrition for the past, inspire me with new purposes of obedience for the future. without thy favor and reconciliation, in peace i cannot live, in peace i dare not die! my cry would be, "more grace, more grace!" let me be gaining every day fresh victories over sin; may my soul be daily nurtured by the influence of heaven-born principles. may i know the expulsive power of the new implanted affection of love to thee. dethrone the world. subjugate the power of sin. give me greater tenderness of conscience; may i jealously guard every avenue to temptation, and be ready ever with the reply to the seductions of the tempter, "how can i do this great wickedness and sin against god?" let me be willing to forego anything rather than forsake thy ways. be it my habitual purpose and desire to cleave unto thee the lord with full purpose of heart. let me hallow all life's duties and engagements with thy favor, looking forward to that time when _my_ will and _thine_, blessed god! shall be one, and when there shall be no more sin to interrupt the interchange of love and devotedness. bless all my dear friends; may the blessing of jacob's god, the god of all the families of the earth, rest upon them. give them all needful temporal blessings. fill their souls with peace and joy in believing. may they and i look forward with joyful anticipation to that "morning without clouds," which knows no change nor vicissitude, when there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, because there will be no more sin; and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." seventeenth evening. for the life of faith. "the life which i live in the flesh i live by the faith of the son of god, who loved me, and gave himself for me."--gal. ii. . o god, i desire to draw near unto thy blessed presence on this the evening of another day, adoring thee for all the loving-kindness thou art continually making to pass before me. may i ever be enabled to look up to thee as the author and bestower of all my mercies. may no created good ever be suffered to dispossess thee of my affections. may all that i enjoy, alike temporal and spiritual, be traced to thee, the fountain of all happiness. may prosperity be hallowed by receiving it as a pledge of thy favor, and may trial lose its bitterness by the consciousness that every thorn in my path is permitted by thee, and every bitter drop in the cup appointed by thee. may i thus seek, o god, from day to day, to live a life of simple faith and dependence on thy grace; with confiding love may i commit my every care and want and perplexity to thy better direction, feeling sweetly assured that thou wilt guide me by a _right_ way to the city of habitation. above all would i seek a renewed interest in those covenant blessings which christ died to purchase and which he is exalted to bestow. all my hope is in him; weak, helpless, perishing, i flee to him, as the help and hope and portion of all who seek him. hide me, o blessed jesus, in thy wounded side. i would overcome alone through the blood of the lamb. wash me thoroughly in thy precious blood. may i hear thine own voice of pardoning love saying, "your sins which are many are all forgiven." after all thou hast done for me, let me harbor no guilty and unworthy suspicions of thy faithfulness. let me feel assured that tender love regulates all thy allotments. thou art pledged to use the dealing and discipline best suited for thy people's case, and what will best effect thine own will concerning them, even their sanctification. carry on within me thine own work in thine own way. fortify me against temptation; let me not surrender myself to the base compliances of a world lying in wickedness. but, strong in the lord and in the power of his might, may i know that he who is with me is greater far than all that can be against me. oh enkindle afresh my expiring, languishing love; let me live more under the influence of "things not seen," having the eye of faith more upwards and homewards, looking for that blessed hope, even the glorious appearing of the great god my saviour. let thy kingdom come! arise, o god, and plead thine own cause. may all the ends of the earth soon be gladdened with the gospel's joyful sound! bless all in sorrow, all bereaved of near and dear friends; may they see no hand in their trials but thine. thou givest us our blessings; and when thou seest meet thou revokest the grant. let us see love in every threatening wave, all rolling at _thy_ bidding. lord, take the charge of me this night. abide with me, blessed saviour, for it is toward evening and the day is far spent. oh, may it be mine to feel that each successive evening as it brings me nearer eternity, is ripening me for its never-ending joys. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." eighteenth evening. for the daily death. "i die daily."-- cor. xv. . o god almighty, father of all mercies, god of all grace, i beseech thee to look down upon me at this time in thy great kindness; let me feel it to be good for me to draw near unto god. i desire to come acknowledging my great unworthiness. forgive, gracious lord, my many, many sins of thought, word, and deed; wash out all the defilements of the day. if i were to be tried by the doings of any single hour, how would i stand condemned! i am a miracle of mercy; kept, sustained, upheld, moment by moment, by the power of god. blessed saviour! where could i have been this night _but_ for _thee_? thou art praying for me, as for thy faltering disciple of old, that my faith fail not. i _do_ rejoice to think that the same hand that was once outstretched for me on _the_ cross is now lifted up in pleading love before the throne, and that he who is _for_ me is greater far than all that can be _against_ me! oh strengthen me with all might by thy spirit in the inner man. subdue my corruptions, crucify all remaining sin. let me die to the world; let me not imbibe its false maxims, conform to its sinful tastes, or accord with its evil practices. let self in all its manifold forms be crucified, and god exalted. come, lord! search me, try me, prove me, and see if there be any wicked way in me. let me maintain a constant and habitual hatred of those sins that do more easily beset me; may i exercise a holy jealousy over my own heart. let no prosperity be strengthening my ties earthward, and weakening my ties heavenward. if thou givest me much of worldly good, may i write upon it all, "the things which are seen are temporal." may it be my exalted ambition to use it for thy glory. if thou sendest trial, let it issue in the peaceable fruits of righteousness, producing a child-like acquiescence in thy present dealings. let me never forget my pilgrim attitude. let me be ever looking forward to that joyous time when, "clean escaped" from the corruptions that are in the world, i shall stand "faultless before the throne." meanwhile, make me more heavenly-minded, copying the example of him who was meek and lowly in heart. let me be gentle and forgiving, let me not harbor unkind suspicions of others, but consider myself, lest i also be tempted. o give me the _character_ of heaven on this side of death, that when i come to pass through the swellings of jordan i may be prepared for the joyous welcome awaiting me on the shores of glory, "enter thou into the joy of thy lord!" have mercy on a world lying in wickedness! pity the careless; arouse the slumbering; support the weak; succour the poor and those that have no helper. bless thy church everywhere. may thy ministering servants hide _themselves_, that their lord may be exalted. take the charge of me and of all near and dear to me this night. keep me, o keep me, king of kings, beneath thine own almighty wings. lying down in thy fear may i awake in thy favor, fitted for all the duties of a new day; and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." nineteenth evening. for renunciation of self. "not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of god."-- cor. iii. . o god! do thou bend thy pitying eye upon me this night, as i venture once more into thy sacred presence. what mercy it is that, with all my great unworthiness, a throne of grace is still open, and a god of grace is still waiting to be gracious! i come to thee in deep creature-destitution, bringing nothing in my hands, but simply cleaving, blessed jesus, to thy cross; looking away from my guilty self and my guilty doings to thee, who hast done all and suffered all for me, i rejoice to think that thou hast broken every chain of condemnation--that thou hast satisfied the requirements of a broken law; and having overcome the sharpness of death, thou hast opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. oh let me not continue in sin because all this wondrous grace abounds. let me not think lightly of the accursed thing which was the cause of all thine untold and unutterable anguish. i know, lord, that i am apt at times to plead vain excuses for my sins. i am unwilling to think them, and to think myself, so vile as i really am, in thy pure and holy eye. my heart is deceitful; but "thou art greater than my heart." oh bring me in self-renouncing lowliness to cry out, "god be merciful to me a sinner." let me cling to no remnants of my own self-righteousness. let me see that my best actions are marred with defilement and mingled with impure and unworthy motives. enable me to aim more and more at the conquest of self. show me the plague of my own heart. keep me from all that is unamiable and selfish, from all that is unkind and uncharitable, and that would exalt myself at the expense of others. keep me holy. keep me lowly.--lead me through the valley of humiliation. may life become more one grand effort to crucify sin and to please god. take, gracious saviour, my whole heart, and make it thine; occupy it without a rival. may there be no competing affection. keep me from alienating existence from its great end, by living to myself. may this be the superscription on all my thoughts, and duties, and engagements--"i am not my own, i am bought with a price." may whatever be thy time be mine. may i not murmur at deferred blessings or disappointed hopes. may my own will be resolved into the will of him who knows best what to give and what to withhold. may the lord have mercy upon zion. may showers of blessing descend on thy holy hill. hasten the glories of the latter day, when jesus shall take to himself his great power and reign! bless all my dear friends; may those ties which may be so soon severed here be rendered indissoluble by grace. guard their couch and mine this night; give us refreshing sleep, lying down in thy fear, and awaking in thy favor, fitted for all the duties of a new day. and all we ask or hope for is for the redeemer's sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twentieth evening. for a child-like spirit. "my soul is even as a weaned child."--psalm cxxxi. . o lord, i rejoice that i am permitted with filial confidence to approach thy blessed presence. what a privilege it is to have such liberty of access to the mercy-seat--to look upwards to thee, the infinite one, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, and call thee my father and my god! earthly love may grow cold or changeable, or perish; but "thou art the same." the mercy of god is from everlasting to everlasting. like as a father pitieth his children, so doth the lord pity them that fear him. alas! i have to mourn too often an unthankful spirit amid all thy manifold mercies. i have been rebellious and wayward, ungrateful and selfish. thou mightest righteously have surrendered me to my own perverse will; left me to the fruit of my own ways, and to be filled with my own devices. it is of the lord's mercies that i am not consumed! infinite is my want, but infinite too is my help. i would seek to stand before thee, o god, in the nothingness of the creature, and to know the boundless resources treasured up for me in the great redeemer. unite me to him by a living faith, as thine own child by adoption; may it be my great desire to glorify thee, my father in heaven; cherishing towards thee a spirit of filial love and devotedness, seeking to do only what will please thee, and having a salutary fear of offending so kind and forbearing a parent. oh keep me from any sullen fretfulness, or unbelieving misgivings, under the strokes of thy chastening hand. let there be no hard construction of thy dealings. may i see all thy chastisements tempered with gracious love--_all_ to be needful discipline. give me an unwavering trust and confidence in thy faithfulness. nothing befalls me but by thy direction; nothing is appointed but what is for my good. let thy varied dealings conform me to the image of my adorable lord. let me be willing to suffer patiently for _him_ who so willingly and so patiently suffered for _me_. let me not so much seek to have my afflictions removed as to have grace given me to glorify thee in them, and in the spirit of a weaned child to say, "even so, father!" o may my heart become a living temple, my life a living sacrifice, breathing the incense of gratitude and love. let me give myself no rest until in this soul of mine i find a place for the lord, an habitation for the mighty god of jacob. do thou sanctify trial to all the sons and daughters of sorrow. draw near to those bereaved of beloved relatives. do thou thyself compensate for every earthly loss. may they know that thou art faithful who hast promised, "lo, i am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." have mercy on thy whole church. heal divisions. bless thy preached word. strengthen thy ministering servants, that they may be enabled to proclaim the whole counsel of god. take the charge of me, and of all near and dear to me, this night. give thine angels charge over us. may no unquiet dreams disturb our rest, and when we awake may we be still with thee. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-first evening. for heavenward progress. "the path of the just is as the shining light, which shines more and more onto the perfect day."--proverbs iv. . o god, i bless thee that thou hast spared me during another day, and permitted the shadows of another evening to gather around me in peace. it is thou, lord, only who makest me to dwell in safety. enable me to live from day to day as the pensioner on thy bounty; to feel my dependence; to receive every created blessing and gift direct from thy hand, and to seek to have all of them sweetened and hallowed as the pledges of thy covenant love in jesus. i bless thee, gracious god, for the richer tokens of thy redeeming grace in him. i bless thee that his infinite merit has come in the place of my infinite demerit, that in him there is "no condemnation;" that in his precious blood i have a secure shelter from the terrors of thy righteous law and the accusations of a guilty conscience. may i know more and more the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings. may my every hope of pardon centre in his cross. may i be living from day to day under the constraining influence of his love, and experience now a sweet foretaste of that everlasting communion which awaits me in his presence hereafter. lord, quicken me in my heavenly way; let me not loiter or linger on the road. let this be my habitual feeling and watchword, "i am journeying." may i seek to mark my progressive advancement in the divine life, my increasing conformity to the image and will of thee, my god. keep me humble, cherishing a constant sense of my dependence on thee. oh in every step zionward, may i be led to cry, "_hold thou_ me up, and i shall be safe." let there be no longer any halting between two opinions, any wavering or indecision. may i regard life as a great mission to please thee. let my animating wish be to be nearer thee now, ere i come to be with thee for ever in glory everlasting. walking heavenwards, may i feel i am walking homewards. may i spend each day as if possibly it were my last, so that should the midnight cry break upon my ears, "prepare to meet thy god," it might be to me no unexpected summons, but as an angel whispering, "the master is come and calleth for thee." look down in mercy on the dark places of the earth full of the habitations of horrid cruelty. how long shall the wicked, how long shall the wicked triumph? go forth with thy missionary servants in heathen lands; may they witness much of thy power; may thy word still be mighty as ever to the pulling down of satan's strongholds. give thy churches at home grace to be more faithful in the fulfilment of the great commission of their great head--"go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature!" take all my beloved friends this night under thy guardian care. shield them from all danger; and if thou art pleased to spare us till to-morrow, may we rise refreshed and invigorated for the duties of a new day. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-second evening. for humility of heart. "he giveth grace unto the humble."--james iv. . o god, thou art great and greatly to be feared. thy greatness is unsearchable. thou art seated on a throne that is high and lifted up; myriads of blessed spirits cease not day nor night to celebrate thy praise in their ever-triumphant hymn, "holy, holy, holy, is the lord god of hosts." but i rejoice to think that though heaven is thy dwelling-place thou deignest to dwell in the humble and contrite heart; no sacrifice dost thou so love as that of the broken spirit; no incense so prized by thee as the incense of a grateful, believing soul, which, oppressed with its own unworthiness and sin, reposes with unwavering trust in the work and righteousness of the great surety. lord, on this ever-living, ever-loving saviour i desire wholly to lean. as helpless, hopeless, friendless, portionless, i cast myself on him who is helper of the helpless and friend of the friendless. there is nothing but thy sacrifice and intercession, o thou lamb of god, between me and everlasting destruction. o wash every crimson and scarlet stain away in thy precious blood. let me lie low at the foot of thy cross. give me a lowly estimate of myself, and a lofty view of thy all-glorious work and finished righteousness. i have no other hope of mercy, and, blessed be thy name, i _need_ no other. while i take thee as my saviour, may i be enabled to follow thee also as my pattern; conscious of the supreme enthronement of thy love in my heart, may i feel superior to all the fluctuations and changes of a changing world. may i live as the chartered heir of a better inheritance; while in the world, may i seek not to be of it. may i diffuse around me the noiseless influence of a heavenly life, subordinating all i do to thy glory. lord, enable me to be useful in the sphere in which thou hast placed me, to work while it is called to-day, remembering that there is no work nor device nor labor in the grave whither i am going. bless all in sorrow. sanctify their trials. keep us ever from the guilty atheism of looking to second causes. may we ever rejoice in the elevating assurance that "the lord god omnipotent reigneth," and that thou orderest all things wisely and well. may the holy spirit the comforter pour his own balm into every bleeding heart. have mercy on a world lying in wickedness. hasten that glorious period when creation, now groaning and travailing in sin, shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption and be translated into the glorious liberty of the children of god. let thy word everywhere have free course and be glorified. may jesus, faithfully "lifted up" by the attractive power of his cross, draw all men unto him. let thy best benediction rest on my friends. the lord watch between them and me when we are absent one from another. may we experience thy guardian care this night; and if spared to awake in the morning, may it be to spend a new day in thy service, through jesus christ, our blessed lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-third evening. for firmness in temptation. "resist the devil, and he will flee from you."--james iv. . o god, thou art from everlasting to everlasting. loving me at the beginning, thou hast promised to love me even unto the end. notwithstanding all the fitful changes of my own changing heart towards _thee_, there _has_ been, and _can_ be, no shadow of turning in thy covenant faithfulness towards _me_. i am at this hour the monument of thy mercy--a living comment on the words, "thy ways are not as man's ways, nor thy thoughts as man's thoughts." if i have been enabled in any degree to resist the assaults of temptation, it is all thy doing. i am "kept by the power of god." unless the lord had been my help, my soul must long ere now have dwelt in silence. by the grace of god i am what i am. lord, indulged and cherished sin unfits me for the enjoyment of thy service and favor. i have to lament my proneness to evil, the natural bias of my heart to that which is opposed to thy pure and holy will. when i would do good, sin is too often present with me. i feel the power of my spiritual adversaries. if left to myself and my own unaided resources, i must often hopelessly resign the conflict. but i rejoice to think that there is help and hope and strength at hand. i would look to him who is now bending upon me an eye of unchanging love from the throne. all thy ascension glories, blessed redeemer, have not obliterated the tenderness of thy humanity. thou art "that same jesus;" thou, the abiding friend, art still left changeless among the changeable; and when satan often desires to have me, that he might sift me as wheat, it is thy intercessory prayer that saves me from utter ruin. thou art pleading for me, that my faith fail not! oh may i be found invincible in the hour of temptation, being made more than conqueror through him that loved me. sheltered in thee the true refuge, the wicked one will touch me not. let me not trifle with my own soul or with the momentous interests of eternity. let me every day be living under the realizing consciousness that thy pure eye is upon me. keep me from all that is at variance with thy gracious mind. keep me from unchristian tempers, from an unholy or inconsistent or uneven walk. by a christ-like demeanor may i exhibit the sanctifying and transforming influence of the gospel on my own soul, that others may take knowledge of me that i have been with jesus. god of bethel! do thou take under thy protecting providence all related to me by endearing ties. however far we may be separated from one another, let us never be separated from thee. let us often rejoice in this our common meeting-place; that around thy mercy-seat in spirit we can assemble, and lay our evening incense in the one golden censer of our gracious high priest! take charge of me this night, defend me from all danger; whether i wake or sleep, may i live together with thee; and all that i ask or hope for is in the name and for the sake of jesus christ, my only saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-fourth evening. for composure in trial. "even so, father; for so it seemed good in thy sight."--matt. xi. . o god, i come into thy presence this night, rejoicing that amid all earth's vicissitudes, i have in thee a rock that cannot be shaken. thou doest according to thy will in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth! thou doest all things well, and nothing but what _is_ well. there is no finite wisdom in thy dealings. all is the result of combined faithfulness, power, and love. let me repose in the righteous ordinations of thy will. if thou withhold from me earthly blessings, let me feel that the very denial is precious because it is thy sovereign pleasure. covenant love and wisdom cannot lead or teach me wrong; every burden is imposed by thee. the lot may be thrown into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the lord. o thou who turnest the shadow of death into the morning, may every wilderness-storm only drive me nearer thyself, my true shelter. thou takest the sting from every cross, the bitterness from every cup. let me recognise in all that befalls me the tokens of a father's love; and if sense and sight should at times fail to descry "the bright light in the cloud," may i see written over every dark trial thine own unanswerable challenge, "he that spared not his own son, but gave him up to the death for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" lord! the end of all thy sovereign dealings is to subjugate my wayward will, and to unfold more of the preciousness of jesus. blessed spirit of all grace! do thou take of the things that are christ's and show them unto my soul. let me not stagger at the promises through unbelief. let me see nothing but love in the past, love in the present, and love looming through the mists of a cloudy future. thou, o god, art seated by every furnace; all is meted out, all is provided for; all has a "need be" in it! magnify the power of thy grace in me, by a sweet spirit of patient submission to thy righteous ordinations. may i seek to have no other prayer than this, "father, glorify thy name." impart thou that inner sunshine which no outward darkness or trial can obscure. may the peace of god, which passeth understanding, keep my heart. may thy holy spirit shed abroad his blessed influences over the whole church. revive thy work, o god, in the midst of the years. in wrath remember mercy. may thy ministers be more faithful. may thy people be more close and consistent in their walk with thee. may the young be growing up in thy fear and favor; may the aged find in thee the staff of their declining years. may the sick and afflicted pillow their head on thy promises. may the dying fall asleep in jesus. i commend myself, my friends, and all belonging to me, to thy paternal care and keeping; and when earth's long night-watches of trial and sorrow are ended, may i wake up in the sorrowless morning of glory, to enjoy uninterrupted fellowship with thyself. through jesus christ, my only lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-fifth evening. for activity in duty. "not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the lord."--romans xii. . lord, i come to thee this night rejoicing in the thought that thou faintest not, neither are weary: thou art ever good, and doing me good. thine arm is never shortened, thine ear is never heavy. the gates of prayer are ever open. the throne of the heavenly grace is ever accessible, none of thy children need perish with hunger! may the darkness now gathering around me be as the shadow of thine infinite presence. i take comfort in the thought that the shepherd of israel neither slumbers nor sleeps; that he is ever bending over me his watchful, untiring eye, compassing my path and my lying down, and holding up my doings that my footsteps do not stumble. lord, how sad is the contrast of thine unwearied and unwearying watchfulness, with my negligence and inactivity in thy service. how little have i sought to promote thy glory. how little have i felt the solemnity and responsibility of being a steward in thy household! let me be more zealous for thy honor in the future. let me seek more than i have ever yet done, to ask in the midst of life's duties and engagements, its perplexities and trials, in simple faith, "lord! what wouldst thou have me to do?" let me feel that duty is a delight when done for thee. keep me from further relaxing my diligence. let me not mock thee any longer with the wrecks of a worn affection. let there be no half-surrender of the heart and life to thee, but may soul and body be consecrated as living sacrifices, and may i have the growing experience that active obedience in thy service is self-rewarding. lord! i have indeed a vast work to do and a brief time to do it in. may opportunities and talents, while i have them, be cheerfully given to thee. may the warning words oft sound in my ear, "work while it is called today, for the night cometh wherein no man can work." oh prepare me for my saviour's coming. forbid that i should be found among the slothful servants or the faithless stewards who are squandering their lord's money, and are living, forgetful that a time of reckoning is at hand! may i be so waiting and so watching, and so working, that the cry may never break too soon or too suddenly on my ears--"behold, the judge standeth before the door!" send forth thy gracious spirit into a world lying in wickedness. scatter the darkness that is now brooding over the nations. bless all thy ministering servants; may they be valiant for the truth; may the lord send his own angel to stand by them, and to shut the mouths of every adversary. bless all my friends; may they too be working out their own salvation with fear and trembling, and so be found at last prepared for the appearing and kingdom of jesus. take me under thy protecting care this night; vouchsafe me a season of refreshing repose; spare me to awake in thy favor; and may every returning morning find me better prepared for the glorious noon-day of immortality; through jesus christ, my ever-living saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-sixth evening. for the spirit's teaching. "as many as are led by the spirit of god, they are the sons of god."--rom. viii. . o lord, thou art the god of my life and the length of my days. there is no real happiness independent of thee. thy favor is life. in vain can i seek for any satisfying portion in an unsatisfying world. if bereft of thee i am bereaved indeed. but with thy countenance shining upon me, i must be safe, i must be happy. do thou pour down upon me the gifts and graces of thy holy spirit. may he "garrison" my heart. may he write on its blood-besprinkled lintels the superscription, "holiness to the lord." oh may this soul of mine become a living temple, an "habitation of god through the spirit." let me not trifle with convictions. let me not grieve by my hardness and impenitency that gracious agent, whereby i am sealed unto the day of redemption; but may all my affections be willingly surrendered to his service. by his omnipotent energy may every high thought and lofty imagination be brought into captivity to the obedience of jesus. may i be enabled to lean upon him in the extremity of my weakness. fill me with all joy and peace in believing that i may abound in hope through the power of the holy ghost; fitted for thy service here, and for the enjoyment of thee forever hereafter. i pray for the outpouring of the same blessed spirit on the whole church. may he descend like rain upon the mown grass, and as showers that water the earth. come from the four winds, o breath, and breathe upon the slain in the valley! hasten that glorious period when the year of thy redeemed shall come, when the earth shall be full of the tabernacles of the righteous, in which the voice of joy and melody will continually be heard! oh that there were more in me of the mind of my gracious saviour, on whom the spirit was poured without measure. may i, like him, be more meek and gentle, more amiable and forgiving, overcoming evil with good.--transform me into the same image from glory to glory, by the lord the spirit. hide all my friends under the shadow of thy wings. put thy good spirit also into their hearts. may he guide them into all the truth, and reveal to them more and more of the preciousness of jesus. let all poor afflicted ones rejoice in the presence and consolations of the promised comforter; may he pour oil and wine into their wounds; may he strengthen them in the midst of all their tribulations, and enable them in lowly resignation to say, "the lord's will be done." teach us all to repose in that will as the best; and to make it day by day our aim and ambition to attain a greater conformity to it. lord, take the charge of me through the watches of the night. under the blessed sense of thy presence and favor i would compose myself to rest, and when i awake, may i be still with thee. and all i ask is for jesus' sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-seventh evening. for the world's conversion. "the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the lord, as the waters cover the sea."--isaiah xi. . o god, i desire to draw near into thy blessed presence, beseeching thee to lift upon me the light of thy countenance and grant me a father's blessing. i am utterly unworthy of thy mercies. and it is only in jesus, the son of thy love, that i dare venture to cast myself at thy footstool. i rejoice to think that in him there is an open door of welcome; that he has by his doing and dying satisfied the demands of thy righteous law, and magnified all thy glorious attributes. i would bury all my sins in the ocean-depths of his redeeming love. oh let me now know the blessedness of _living_, and at last the blessedness of _dying_, at peace with thee, in the sure and certain hope of a resurrection to eternal life. darkness is still covering the lands, and gross darkness the people. lord, do thou have mercy on a world lying in wickedness. i rejoice to think of all thy glorious promises concerning the latter day. that this creation of ours, now groaning and travailing in bondage under sin, is yet to be delivered from the yoke of corruption, and to be translated into the glorious liberty of the sons of god. glorify thy great name in the salvation of sinners! hasten the period of predicted glory, when all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of god; when from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, the lord's name is to be praised. may thine own omnipotent spirit brood over the darkness, as he did over chaos of old, and say, "let there be light, and there will be light." may gladsome voices soon be heard proclaiming, "arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the lord is risen upon thee." oh may i know personally something of that compassionate yearning over ruined souls and a ruined world that my saviour had. let me be prodigal in devising means for the extension of his kingdom and the good of my fellow-men. i would pray the lord of the harvest that he would send forth laborers to the harvest. stand by thy missionary servants. may they have many souls for their hire. may mountains of difficulty be levelled before them; may crooked things be made straight and rough places plain, and may the glory of the lord be revealed. let them exercise simple faith in the power of thy word and the efficacy of thy grace. may they feel that these are mighty as they ever were to the pulling down of strongholds. arouse thy churches to greater zeal. may jesus, faithfully lifted up by his servants, by the attractive power of his cross draw all men unto him. may they be the honored instruments of preparing many gems for immanuel's crown, who will be found unto praise and honor and glory at his second appearing. lord, guard me through the silent watches of the night; be the defence and protection of my friends and relatives; may they too dwell under the shadow of thy wings and experience the sleep of thy beloved; and when the night of earth's ignorance shall vanish away, may we all wake up in glory everlasting, through jesus christ, our only lord and saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-eighth evening. for the church's revival. "revive thy work in the midst of the years."--hab. iii. . o god, thou hast permitted me in thy great mercy to see another evening. how many of my fellow-men have this day slept the sleep of death, and are now beyond the reach of grace and privilege! i am still spared, all unworthy though i be, a monument of thy forbearance and love. i desire to make acknowledgment of my many and grievous offences. they are more in number than the sand of the sea;--sins against light, and mercy, and warning; sins committed against the kindest of benefactors, the most indulgent of parents. i would seek anew to take refuge in the offered shelter of the gospel, and to rejoice anew in the faithful saying that jesus christ came into the world to save the chief of sinners. oh may i be enabled confidingly to repose in his matchless sacrifice, and with lively appropriating faith to say, "he loved _me_ and gave himself for _me_!" lord, carry on thine own work within me. quicken my languid and languishing affections by the omnipotent agency of thy holy spirit. let me not live at a guilty distance from thy favor; but may i covet a close and habitual walk with thee, and feel the sustaining power of thy grace in my heart. revive thy work in thine own church universal, thou great high priest, who walketh in the midst of the golden candlesticks. do thou feed every lamp with the oil of thy grace. let them burn with a clearer, holier, more steady and consistent flame. as lights set in the world, may they diffuse thy glory; and feel the honor of being instrumental in shedding abroad a saviour's love. oh may the lord arise and have mercy upon zion. may the time to favor her, yea, the set time, soon come. as there is but one shepherd, so may there soon be but one sheep-fold. let thy churches no longer continue apart from one another in unholy estrangement, but live in the unity of the spirit and in the bond of peace; holding fast that which they have, that no man take their crown. spirit of all grace, come in all the plenitude of thy love and mercy. breathe upon every portion of thy visible church, and say, "receive ye the holy ghost!" "awake, o north wind! come, thou south! blow upon our garden, that the spices thereof may flow out." may thy gracious influences descend like rain upon the mown grass, and as showers that water the earth. bless all thy faithful ministers. may peace be upon them and upon the whole israel of god. direct their hearts and the hearts of all thy faithful people into thy love, and into the patient waiting for christ. comfort all in sorrow. may they see a "need be" written on all their trials. may they look beyond the long night-watch of earth to the glories of that eternal morning when clouds and darkness shall for ever flee away. take charge of me while i sleep, and as evening after evening comes round may i feel that a day has been spent for thee. hear me, gracious lord, for the redeemer's sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." twenty-ninth evening. for support in death. "yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."--ps. xxiii. . o god, i come to thee this night through jesus christ, the son of thy love, beseeching thee to have mercy upon me, and to impart unto me that peace of thine which passeth all understanding. blessed be thy great and glorious name for those hopes full of immortality which have been opened up to me in the gospel. i rejoice in christ as the great abolisher of death. i rejoice that the rainbow of covenant faithfulness spans the entrance to the dark valley; that all that is terrible in the last enemy is in him taken away, and that i can regard these closing hours of existence as the introduction and doorway into everlasting bliss. give me grace, o god, to be living in constant preparation for death. let me not unprofitably squander my present golden moments. let me _live_ while i _live_--let me live a dying life. let me feel that life is a trust given me by thee. o thou great proprietor of my being, may this all important talent of time be more consecrated to thy glory. let it not be mine, when the hour of death arrives, to bewail, when it is too late, lost and forfeited opportunities. let me not leave till then, what best can be done and what only _may_ be done now. may it be my earnest endeavor while it is called today to secure a saving interest in the everlasting covenant, and then i need not fear how soon the silver cord may be loosed and the golden bowl broken. through jesus the darkness has been taken from death, and to his own true people its shadows will melt and merge into the brightness of eternal day. thou art ever giving me impressive remembrances that "at such an hour as i think not," the summons may come, "prepare to meet thy god." the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong. verily every moment there may be but a step between me and death. let me be so living a life of habitual faith in the son of god that this step may be changed into a step between me and glory. lord, prepare all who may now be laid on dying couches for their great change. may their eyes be directed to jesus. pillowing their heads on his exceeding great and precious promises, may they fall asleep in the glorious hope of a joyful resurrection. bless all in sorrow; those who have recently been bereaved of near and dear friends, who may have been called recently to the brink of the tomb, consigning their loved ones to the narrow house appointed for all living. may they be enabled to fix their sorrowing gaze on the brighter prospects beyond death and the grave, and anticipate that glorious hour when, reunited to death-divided friends, they will be able to exult together in the song, "o death, where is thy sting? o grave, where is thy victory?" take the charge of me this night. watch over me during the unconscious hours of sleep, and when i too come to the long night and slumber of death, may it be the gentle rest of thy beloved, a falling asleep in the arms of everlasting love, looking forward to the joyful waking time of immortality, through jesus christ my only saviour. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." thirtieth evening. for preparation for judgment. "prepare to meet thy god."--amos iv. . o god, thou art daily loading me with thy benefits. thou art making the outgoings of the evening and morning to rejoice over me, giving me unnumbered causes for gratitude and thankfulness. no earthly friend could have loved and cared for me like thee. oh may the life thou art thus preserving by thine unceasing bounty be unreservedly dedicated to thy praise. lord, keep me mindful that i am soon to be done with this world, that i am fast borne along the stream of time to an endless futurity. "it is appointed unto all once to die, and after death the judgment." may i be living in a constant state of preparedness for that solemn hour when small and great shall stand before god, and the books shall be opened. educate me for eternity. let me not be frittering away these fleeting but precious moments. impress on me the solemn conviction that "as men live so do men die," that as death leaves me so will judgment find me. oh let death leave me falling asleep in jesus, united to him by a living faith, that so judgment may find me seated at his right hand, listening to the joyous welcome, "come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." blessed jesus, all my hope of a glorious resurrection centres in thee. i look to thee as the strong tower which cannot be shaken. i flee anew to the holy sanctuary of thy covenant love. sheltered there, amid a dissolving earth, and burning worlds, i shall be able joyfully to utter the challenge, "who shall separate me from the love of christ?" meanwhile may i seek to "occupy" till my lord comes. keep me from all negligence and unwatchfulness. trim my flickering lamp. let me live with thy judgment-throne in view. whether waking or sleeping, may i bear about with me the thought that i must soon give an account of myself to god. may i feel that all the talents and means thou hast given me are trusts to be laid out for thee. when thou comest to demand a reckoning, may i not be among the number of those who have hid their talent in the earth, and have the cheerless retrospect of a misspent time. lord! bless my friends, reward my benefactors, forgive my enemies. sanctify sorrow to all the sons and daughters of trial. may the torch of thy love light up their gloomy prospects. may every providential voice sound loud in their ears, "arise and depart ye, for this is not your rest!" gracious god, watch over me during the night, and grant that at last, when all earth's evenings and mornings shall have passed away, i may, on the great day-break of glory, wake up in thy likeness, through him in whom is all my hope, and to whom, with thee, o father, and thee, ever blessed spirit, one god, be everlasting praise, honor, and glory, world without end. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." thirty-first evening. for meeting in heaven. "meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light."--col. i. . o god, i come into thy gracious presence on this the close of another day, beseeching thee to accept of my evening sacrifice. may this my unworthy prayer come up before thee perfumed with the fragrant incense of the saviour's adorable merits. it is my comfort to know, o thou blessed intercessor within the veil, that thou art even now appearing in the presence of god for me! the names of thy covenant people are engraven on thy breastplate, and, all unworthy in themselves, they are accepted in the beloved. my special prayer to thee this night is, that by thy grace i may be made meet for thy blood-bought inheritance in glory. transform me by the indwelling power of the holy ghost; may i be dying daily unto sin, and living daily unto righteousness. make me more heavenly-minded. give me more of a pilgrim attitude and a pilgrim spirit. may i ever feel that my true home is above, that i am here but a wayfarer and sojourner, as all my fathers were. may i attain, as i advance nearer heaven, the blessed habit of a holy life, bearing about with me the lofty impress of one who is born _from_ above and _for_ above, declaring plainly that i seek "a better country." let me not arraign the appointments of infinite wisdom, but patiently await the disclosures of the great day. keep me from a hasty spirit under dark dispensations. i am no judge as to what fancied mercies are best withholden. let me look to every trial as an appointed messenger from the throne whispering in my ears, "be ye also ready!" may i delight often to anticipate that happy time when i shall suffer no more, and sin no more; when thou shalt no longer teach me by mysterious dispensations and a crossed will; when all shall be "a sea of glass" without one disturbing ripple, and i shall trace with joyous heart the long line of unbroken love and unchanging faithfulness! anew i would wash in the atoning fountain. anew i would take refuge "in the faithful saying." o blot out all the sins of the bygone day. let them not rise up in the judgment to condemn me. let me close my eyes this night listening to the saviour's own voice--"your sins which are many are all forgiven you." may the lord arise and have mercy upon zion. may the streams of thy grace make glad the city of god. build up her broken walls; restore her ruined towers; may her watchmen be men of faith and men of prayer; making mention of the lord, and keeping not silence, till he establish, and till he make jerusalem again a praise in the earth. lord, bless my friends. let us exult in those ties which survive the uncertain ones of earth, and look forward to the hour when we shall come to stand at last faultless before thy throne. oh, prepare us all for the breaking of that eternal day--that "morning without clouds," when in thy light we shall see light--when the love of christ shall be enthroned supremely in every heart, when the glory of christ will form the animating motive and principle of life that shall never end: and all i ask is for his sake. amen. "let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense: and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." the end. books recently published by h. hooker. a plain commentary on the four holy gospels, intended chiefly for devotional reading. complete from the london edition. in two volumes, vo. price $ , in muslin, gilt; in half calf, $   , two volumes in one; in two volumes, half calf, $ . this is esteemed the best commentary on the holy gospels ever published for general use. it is a mine of devotional thought and inspiration; beautiful and simple in style, and bringing to bear on the elucidation of the sacred text the choicest learning, both ancient and modern. it should find a welcome in every christian family. sermons by the rev. alexander h. vinton, d. d. in one volume. mo., $ . sermons by the rev. a. cleveland coxe. in one volume, mo., $ . sermons by the right rev. george burgess, d. d. in one volume, mo., $ . search of truth; a manual of instruction concerning the way of salvation. by rev. james craik. mo., cents. the boy trained to be a clergyman. by rev. john n. norton. mo., cents. dr. wordsworth on the inspiration and canon of holy scripture. mo., $   . dr. wordsworth on the apocalypse. vo., $ . the episcopate; its history, duties, &c., &c. by hugh davey evans, ll.d. mo., cents. two very desirable editions of the book of common prayer. just completed. the book of the homilies of the church. in one volume, vo., $   . twenty-eight lectures on the morning prayer: by rev. robert a. hallam, d. d., rector of st. james' church, new london, conn. "the rev. dr. hallam's lectures on the morning prayer are a valuable addition to the working material for ordinary parish instruction. he goes carefully, judiciously, moderately, through all the parts of the morning prayer, including the litany, and draws out with great richness and fulness the admirable order, the wonderful connection of spirit and beauty, the deep inner life, of that inestimable office. there is also a sufficient infusion of liturgical learning to make the volume very instructive to the great bulk of all our congregations. with all its wise moderation of statement, there is a warm glow in the language of dr. hallam's book, a fervor in the feeling, and even an eloquence of expression in many places, which cannot but produce in all its readers a more full and harmonious appreciation of our incomparable liturgy. it will make the worship of our congregations a wonderfully more _reasonable, holy and living_ sacrifice unto god, inspiring it with a deeper and truer life wherever its healthful influence extends."--_church journal._ "a work of great merit, remarkable in its adaptations to defend and commend the church. let it be read for information about the church and the improvement of devotional spirit in her members."--_banner of the cross._ "the book of dr. hallam is the best book we have seen to put into the hands of persons desiring to understand the church." "the mode of treating the subject gives it full right to a place among works on _practical religion_. the leading object of the lectures is to show that this was the design and intent of the service, and that none who enter into its spirit can fail of being improved by its use. there is also something in the manner in which our author treats his subject--so much of his own agreeable peculiarities of thought and style characterizing it, as to throw an air of freshness over the subject itself, rendering the perusal as pleasant as it is profitable. in doctrine and usage, dr. h. follows the golden mean, the _via media_ which has ever marked the course of the church."--_the calendar._ produced from scanned images of public domain material from the google print project.) transcriber's notes: italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. blank pages have been eliminated. variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original. a few typographical errors have been corrected. spurgeon's books are, _sermons_,... _eight series_. $ . each. _morning by morning._ vol. mo. price $ . . in press: _evening by evening_, by rev. c. h. spurgeon. volume. mo. price $ . . gleanings among the sheaves. by rev. c. h. spurgeon. _second edition._ new york: sheldon and company, & broadway. . to the numerous hearers and to the innumerable readers of the _rev. c. h. spurgeon's sermons,_ this unpretentious little volume is respectfully dedicated _by the publishers_. the stems grow up every week: the shocks appear once a month: the sheaves are bound together once a year: and it is thought that these samples, gleaned from the sermons, will be welcome to many, but chiefly to those who are most familiar with the ample fields from which they are gathered. gleanings among the sheaves. _the preciousness of the promises._ the promises of god are to the believer an inexhaustible mine of wealth. happy is it for him if he knows how to search out their secret veins, and enrich himself with their hid treasures. they are an armory, containing all manner of offensive and defensive weapons. blessed is he who has learned to enter into the sacred arsenal, to put on the breastplate and the helmet, and to lay his hand to the spear and to the sword. they are a surgery, in which the believer will find all manner of restoratives and blessed elixirs; nor lacks there an ointment for every wound, a cordial for every faintness, a remedy for every disease. blessed is he who is well skilled in heavenly pharmacy, and knoweth how to lay hold on the healing virtues of the promises of god. the promises are to the christian a storehouse of food. they are as the granaries which joseph built in egypt, or as the golden pot wherein the manna was preserved. blessed is he who can take the five barley loaves and fishes of promise, and break them till his five thousand necessities shall all be supplied, and he is able to gather up baskets full of fragments. the promises are the christian's magna charta of liberty; they are the title deeds of his heavenly estate. happy is he who knoweth how to read them well, and call them all his own. yea, they are the jewel room in which the christian's crown treasures are preserved. the regalia are his, secretly to admire to-day, which he shall openly wear in paradise hereafter. he is already privileged as a king with the silver key that unlocks the strong room; he may even now grasp the sceptre, wear the crown, and put upon his shoulders the imperial mantle. o, how unutterably rich are the promises of our faithful, covenant-keeping god! if we had the tongue of the mightiest of orators, and if that tongue could be touched with a live coal from off the altar, yet still it could not utter a tenth of the praises of the exceeding great and precious promises of god. nay, they who have entered into rest, whose tongues are attuned to the lofty and rapturous eloquence of cherubim and seraphim, even they can never tell the height and depth, the length and breadth of the unsearchable riches of christ, which are stored up in the treasure-house of god--the promises of the covenant of his grace. _sorrow's discipline._ the lord gets his best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction. _the christian warfare._ it is a tough battle which the christian is called to fight; not one which carpet knights might win; no easy skirmish which he might gain, who dashed to battle on some sunshiny day, looked at the host, then turned his courser's rein, and daintily dismounted at the door of his silken tent. it is not a campaign which he shall win, who, but a raw recruit to-day, foolishly imagines that one week of service will insure a crown of glory. it is a life-long war; a contest which will require all our strength, if we are to be triumphant; a battle at which the stoutest heart might quail; a fight from which the bravest would shrink, did he not remember that the lord is on his side; therefore whom shall he fear? god is the strength of his life: of whom shall he be afraid? this fight is not one of main force, or physical might; if it were, we might the sooner win it; but it is all the more dangerous from the fact that it is a strife of mind, a contest of heart, a struggle of the spirit--ofttimes an agony of the soul. do you wonder that the christian is called to conflict? god never gives strong faith without fiery trial; he will not build a strong ship, without subjecting it to very mighty storms; he will not make you a mighty warrior, if he does not intend to try your skill in battle. the sword of the lord must be used; the blades of heaven must be smitten against the armor of the evil one, and yet they shall not break, for they are of true jerusalem metal, which shall never snap. we shall conquer, if we begin the battle in the right way. if we have sharpened our swords on the cross, we have nothing whatever to fear; for though we may be sometimes cast down and discomforted, we shall assuredly at last put to flight all our adversaries, for we are the sons of god even now. why, then, should we fear? who shall bid us "stay," if god bid us advance? _the privileges of trial._ it is said, that when the stars cannot be seen during the day from the ordinary level of the earth, if one should go down into a dark well, they would be visible at once. and certainly it is a fact, that the best of god's promises are usually seen by his church when she is in her darkest trials. as sure as ever god puts his children in the furnace, he will be in the furnace with them. i do not read that jacob saw the angel, until he came into a position where he had to wrestle, and then the wrestling jacob saw the wrestling angel. i do not know that joshua ever saw the angel of god, till he was by jericho; and then joshua saw the angelic warrior. i do not know that abraham ever saw the lord, till he had become a stranger and a wanderer in the plains of mamre, and then the lord appeared unto him as a wayfaring man. it is in our most desperate sorrows that we have our happiest experiences. you must go to patmos to see the revelation. it is only on the barren, storm-girt rock, shut out from all the world's light, that we can find a fitting darkness, in which we can view the light of heaven undistracted by the shadows of earth. _the joy of victory._ the christian's battle-field is here, but the triumphal procession is above. this is the land of the sword and the spear: that is the land of the wreath and the crown. this is the land of the garment rolled in blood and of the dust of the fight: that is the land of the trumpet's joyful sound, the place of the white robe and of the shout of conquest. o, what a thrill of joy shall be felt by all the blessed, when their conquests shall be complete in heaven; when death itself, the last of foes, shall be slain; when satan shall be dragged captive at the chariot wheels of christ; when the great shout of universal victory shall rise from the hearts of all the redeemed! what a moment of pleasure shall that be! something of the joy of victory we know even here. have you ever struggled against an evil heart, and at last overcome it? have you ever wrestled hard with a strong temptation, and known what it was to sing with thankfulness, "when i said my feet slipped, thy mercy, o lord, held me up?" have you, like bunyan's christian, fought with apollyon, and after a fierce contest, put him to flight? then you have had a foretaste of the heavenly triumph--just an imagining of what the ultimate victory will be. god gives you these partial triumphs, that they may be earnests of the future. go on and conquer, and let each conquest, though a harder one, and more strenuously contested, be to you as a pledge of the victory of heaven. _light in the cloud._ "the lord turned the captivity of job." so, then, our longest sorrows have a close, and there is a bottom to the profoundest depths of our misery. our winters shall not frown forever: summer shall soon smile. the tide shall not eternally ebb out: the floods must retrace their march. the night shall not hang its darkness forever over our souls: the sun shall yet arise with healing beneath his wings. "the lord turned the captivity of job." thus, too, our sorrows shall have an end when god has gotten his end in them. the ends in the case of job were these, that satan might be defeated, foiled with his own weapons, blasted in his hopes when he had everything his own way. god, at satan's challenge, had stretched forth his hand and touched job in his bone and in his flesh; and yet the tempter could not prevail against him, but received his rebuff in those conquering words, "though he slay me, yet will i trust in him." when satan is defeated, then shall the battle cease. the lord aimed also at the trial of job's faith. many weights were hung upon this palm-tree, but it still grew uprightly. the fire had been fierce, yet the gold was undiminished; only the dross was consumed. another purpose the lord had was his own glory. and truly he was glorified abundantly. god hath gotten unto his great name and his wise counsels, eternal renown, through that grace by which he supported his poor afflicted servant under the heaviest troubles which ever fell to the lot of man. god had another end, and that also was served. job had been sanctified by his afflictions. his spirit was mellowed, and any self-justification which lurked within was fairly driven out. and now that god's gracious designs are answered, he removes the rod; he takes the melted silver from the midst of the glowing coals. god doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men for nought, and he shows this by the fact he never afflicts them longer than there is a need for it. he never suffers them to be one moment longer in the furnace than is absolutely requisite to serve the purposes of his wisdom and of his love. "the lord turned the captivity of job." despair not, then, afflicted believer; he that turned the captivity of job can turn thy captivity as the streams in the south. he shall make thy vineyard again to blossom, and thy field to yield her fruit. thou shalt again come forth with those that make merry, and once more shall the song of gladness be on thy lip. let not despair rivet his cruel fetters about thy soul. hope yet, for there is hope concerning this matter. trust thou still, for there is ground of confidence. he shall bring thee up again, rejoicing, out of captivity, and thou shalt yet sing to his praise, "thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness." _good works._ when once the human heart is put under the microscope of scripture, and we see it with a spiritual eye, we perceive it to be so vile, that we are quite sure it would be just as impossible to expect to find good works in an unrighteous, unconverted man, as to hope to see fire burning in the midst of the ocean. the two things would be incongruous. our good works, if we have any, spring from a real conversion; yet more, they spring also from a constant spiritual influence exercised upon us, from the time of conversion even until the hour of death. ah, christian, thou wouldst have no good works if thou hadst no fresh grace day by day! thou wouldst not find the grace given thee at the first hour sufficient to produce fruit to-day. it is not like the planting of a tree in our hearts, which naturally of itself bringeth forth fruit; but the sap cometh up from the root jesus christ. we are not trees by ourselves, but we are branches fixed on the living vine. our good works spring from union with christ. the more a man knows and feels himself to be one with jesus, the more holy will he be. why is a christian's character like christ's character? only for this reason, that he is joined and united to the lord jesus. why does the branch bring forth grapes? simply because it has been engrafted into the vine, and therefore it partakes of the nature of the stem. so, christian, the only way whereby thou canst bring forth fruit to god is by being grafted into christ and united with him. if you think you can walk in holiness without keeping up perpetual fellowship with christ, you have made a great mistake. if you would be holy, you must live close to jesus. good works spring only thence. hence we draw the most powerful reasons against anything like trusting in works; for as works are only the gift of god, how utterly impossible it is for an unconverted man to produce any such good works in himself. and if they are god's gifts, how little of our merit can there be in them! _the knowledge of christ's love._ it is the distinguishing mark of god's people that they know the love of christ. without exception, all those who have passed from death unto life, whatever they may not know, have learned this. and without exception, all those who are not saved, whatever they may know besides, know nothing of this. for to know the love of christ, to taste its sweetness, to realize it personally, experimentally, and vitally, as shed abroad in our hearts by the holy ghost, is the privilege of the child of god alone. this is the secure enclosure into which the stranger cannot enter. this is the garden of the lord, so well protected by walls and hedges that no wild boar of the wood can enter. only the redeemed of the lord shall walk here. they, and only they, may pluck the fruits, and content themselves with the delights thereof. how important, then, becomes the question, do i know the love of christ? have i felt it? do i understand it? is it shed abroad in my heart? do i know that jesus loves me? is my heart quickened, and animated, and warmed, and attracted towards him through the great truth that it recognizes and rejoices in, that christ has really loved me and chosen me, and set his heart upon me? but while it is true that every child of god knows the love of christ, it is equally true that all the children of god do not know this love to the same extent. there are in christ's family, babes, young men, strong men, and fathers. and as they grow and progress in all other matters, so they most certainly make advances here. indeed, an increase of love, a more perfect apprehension of christ's love, is one of the best and most infallible gauges whereby we may test ourselves whether we have grown in grace or not. if we have grown in grace, it is absolutely certain that we shall have advanced in our knowledge and reciprocation of the love of christ. many have believed in jesus, and know a little of his love; but, o! it is little indeed they know, in comparison with some others who have been brought into the inner chamber, and made to drink of the spiced wine of christ's pomegranate. some have begun to climb the mountain, and the view which lies at their feet is lovely and passing fair, but the landscape is not such as would greet their eyes if they could but stand where advanced saints are standing, and could look to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south, and see all the lengths, and breadths, and depths, and heights of the love of christ which passeth knowledge. _clear shining after rain._ the sway of christ as king, according to david's description, is like "clear shining after rain," whereby the tender grass is made to spring out of the earth. so have we often seen it. after a heavy shower of rain, or after a continued rainy season, when the sun shines, there is a delightful clearness and freshness in the air that we seldom perceive at other times. perhaps the brightest weather is just when the rain has ceased, when the wind has drifted away the clouds, and the sun peers forth from his chambers to gladden the earth with his smiles. and thus is it with the christian's exercised heart. sorrow does not last forever. after the pelting rain of adversity cometh ever and anon the clear shining. tried believer, consider this. after all thy afflictions there remaineth a rest for the people of god. there is a clear shining coming to thy soul when all this rain is past. when thy time of rebuke is over and gone, it shall be to thee as the earth when the tempest has sobbed itself to sleep, when the clouds have rent themselves to rags, and the sun peereth forth once more as a bridegroom in his glorious array. to this end, sorrow coöperates with the bliss that follows it, like rain and sunshine, to bring forth the tender blade. the tribulation and the consolation work together for our good. "as the sufferings of christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by christ." the clear shining after rain produces an atmosphere that refreshes herbs and cereals: and the joy of the lord, after seasons of sorrow, makes the soul fruitful. thus we grow in grace and in the knowledge of our lord and saviour jesus christ. _a quiet heart._ unless the heart be kept peaceable, the life will not be happy. if calm doth not reign over that inner lake within the soul, which feeds the rivers of our life, the rivers themselves will always be in storm. our outward acts will always tell that they were born in tempests, by being tempestuous themselves. we all desire to lead a joyous life; the bright eye and the elastic foot are things which we each of us desire; to carry about a contented mind is that to which most men are continually aspiring. let us remember, that the only way to keep our life peaceful and happy, is to keep the heart at rest; for come poverty, come wealth, come honor, come shame, come plenty, or come scarcity, if the heart be quiet, there will be happiness anywhere. but whatever the sunshine and the brightness, if the heart be troubled, the whole life must be troubled too. _a rich life._ when one of our kings came back from captivity, as old chroniclers tell, there were fountains in cheapside which flowed with wine. so bounteous was the king, and so glad the people, that instead of water, they made wine flow free to everybody. there is a way of making our life so rich, so full, so blessed to our fellow-men, that the metaphor may be applicable to us, and men may say, that our life flows with wine when other men's lives flow with water. ye have known some such men. john howard's life was not like our poor, common lives: he was so benevolent, his sympathy with the race so self-denying, that the streams of his life were like generous wine. you have known personally, it may be, some eminent saint, one who lived very near to jesus: when he talked, there was an unction and a savor about his words, a solidity and a strength about his utterances, which you could appreciate, though you could not attain unto it. you have sometimes said, "i wish my words were as full, as sweet, as mellow, and as unctuous as the words of such a one. o, i wish my actions were just as rich, had as deep a color, and as pure a taste, as the acts of some other to whom you point. all i can do seems but little and empty when compared with his high attainments. o, that i could do more! o, that i could send streams of pure gold into every house, instead of my poor dross!" well, christian, this should stimulate thee to keep thine heart full of rich things. never, never neglect the word of god; that will make thy heart rich with precept, thy head rich with understanding, and thy bowels rich with compassion; then, thy conversation, when it flows through thy mouth, will be from thy soul, and, like all that is within thee, rich, unctuous, and savory. only let thy heart be full of sweet, generous love, and the stream that flows from thy lips will be sweet and generous. above all, get jesus to live in thine heart, and then out of thee shall flow rivers of living water, more exhilarating, purer, and more satiating than the water of the well of sychar, of which jacob drank. go forth, with christian, to the great mine of unsearchable riches, and cry unto the holy spirit to make thy heart rich unto salvation. so shall thy life and conversation be a boon to thy fellows; and when they see thee, thy visage shall shine, and thy face shall be as the angel of god. _"he hath said."_ the apostles, like their master, were always very ready at quotations. as inspired men they could have always used fresh words, yet they preferred (and herein they are an example to us) to quote old words upon which the seal of divine authority has been set aforetime--"he hath said." let us do the same, for, though the words of ministers may be sweet, the words of god are sweeter; and though original thoughts may have the charm of novelty, yet the ancient words of god have the ring, and the weight, and the value of old and precious coins, and they will never be found wanting in the day when we require to use them. "he hath said," not only chases away doubts and fears, but it also yields nourishment to all our graces. when the apostle would make us contented, he says, "be content with such things as ye have: for _he hath said_;" and when he would make us bold and courageous, he puts it thus forcibly, "_he_ hath said, i will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." so that _we_ may boldly say, "the lord is my helper, and i will not fear what man shall do unto me." when the apostle paul would nourish faith, he does it by feeding us from scripture with the examples of abraham, of isaac, of jacob, of moses, of gideon, of barak, and of jephthah. when another apostle would calm us with a lesson of patience, he says, "ye have heard of the patience of job;" or if it be our prayerfulness that he wants to stir up, he says, "elias was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed and prevailed." "_he hath said_," is refreshing food for every grace, and a decisive death-blow for every sin. here you have nourishment for that which is good, and poison for that which is evil. search, then, the scriptures, for so shall you grow healthy, strong, and vigorous in the divine life. but besides searching them by reading, and treasuring them by memory, we should test them by experience, and so often as a promise is proven to be true, we should make a mark against it, and note that we also can say, as did one of old, "this is my comfort in my affliction; for thy word hath quickened me." "wait on the lord," said isaiah, and then he added, "wait, _i say_, on the lord," as if his own experience led him to echo the voice of god to his hearers. test the promise; take god's bank-note to the counter, and mark if it be cashed. grasp the lever which he ordains to lift your trials, and try if it possesses real power. cast this divine tree into the bitter waters of your marah, and learn how it will sweeten them. take this salt, and throw it into the turbid waters, and witness if they be not made sweet, as were the waters of old by the prophet elisha. "taste and see that the lord is good ... for there is no want to them that fear him." _safety in conflict._ the way that god keeps his people in security is not by shutting out their enemies from attacking them, but by sustaining them while engaged in the conflict. it is not much to preserve ones' self behind a wall which cannot be scaled, but to stand where arrows are flying thick as hail, where lances are being pushed with fury, where the sword-cuts are falling on every part, and in the midst of all to prove invulnerable, invincible, immortal, this is to wear a divine life which cannot be conquered by human power. such is the calling of the christian. god will put us where we must be tried and tempted. if we are not tried, there is no honor to him who preserves us; and if we are not tempted, there is no gratitude to his grace who delivers us out of temptations. the lord does not put his plants into a hot-house, as some gardeners do; no, he sets them out in the open air, and if the frost is coming, he says, "ah! but no frost can kill them, and they will be all the sturdier in the summer for the cold in the winter." he does not shelter them either from the heat of the sun, or from the chills of the night. in this world we must have tribulation, and we must have much of it too, for it is through much tribulation we inherit the kingdom. what god does for his people is this: he keeps them _in_ tribulation, preserves them in temptation, and brings them joyfully out of all their trials. so, christian, you may rejoice in your security; but you must not think that you are not to be attacked; you are like a stream from lebanon, to be dashed down many a cascade, to be broken over many a rough rock, to be stopped up with many a huge stone, to be impeded by many a fallen tree; but you are to dash forward with the irresistible force of god, sweeping everything away, till you find at last the place of your perfect rest. _to-morrow._ if to-morrows are not to be boasted of, are they good for nothing? no, blessed be god. there are a great many things we may do with to-morrows. i will tell you what we may do with them if we are the children of god. we may always look forward to them with _patience and confidence_, that they will work together for our good. we may say of the to-morrows, "i do not boast of them, but i am not frightened at them; i would not glory in them, but i will not tremble about them." yes, we may be very easy and very comfortable about to-morrow; we may remember that all our times are in his hands, that all events are at his command; and though we know not all the windings of the path of providence, yet _he_ knows them all; they are all settled in his book, and our times are all ordered by his wisdom. and, therefore, we may look upon the to-morrows as we see them in the rough bullion of time, about to be minted into every-day's expenditure, and we may say of them all, "they shall all be gold; they shall all be stamped with the king's impress, and therefore, let them come; they will not make me worse--they will work together for my good." yea, more, a christian may rightly look forward to his to-morrows, not simply with resignation, but also with _joy_. to-morrow to a christian is a happy thing; it is one stage nearer glory. it is one step nearer heaven to a believer; it is just one knot more sailed across the dangerous sea of life, and he is so much the nearer to his eternal port. to-morrow! the christian may rejoice at it; he may say of to-day, "o day, thou mayst be dark, but i shall bid thee good by, for lo, i see the morrow coming, and i shall mount upon its wings, and shall flee away and leave thee and thy sorrows far behind me." _a full heart._ you have seen the great reservoirs provided by our water companies, in which water for the supply of thousands of houses is kept. now, the heart is the reservoir of man, from which the streams of his life flow. that life may flow through different pipes--the mouth, the hand, the eye; but still all the issues of hand, of eye, of lip, derive their source from the great fountain and central reservoir, the heart; and hence there is no difficulty in showing the great necessity that exists for keeping this reservoir in a proper state and condition, since otherwise that which flows through the pipes must be tainted and corrupt. not only must the heart be kept pure, but it must also be kept _full_. however pure the water may be in the central reservoir, it will not be possible for us to have an abundant supply, unless the reservoir itself be full. an empty fountain will most assuredly beget empty pipes; let the machinery be never so accurate, let everything else be well ordered, yet if that reservoir be dry, we may wait in vain for water. see, then, the necessity of keeping the heart full; and let the necessity make you ask this question: "but how can i keep my heart full? how can my emotions be strong? how can i keep my desires burning and my zeal inflamed?" christian! there is one text which will explain all this: "all my springs are in thee," said david. if thou hast all thy springs in god, thy heart will be full enough. if thou goest to the foot of calvary, there will thy heart be bathed in love and gratitude. if thou art often in the vale of retirement, talking with thy god, thy heart shall be full of calm resolve. if you goest with thy master to the hill of olivet, with him to weep over jerusalem, then will thy heart be full of love for never-dying souls. if thou art continually drawing thine impulse, thy life, the whole of thy being from the holy spirit, without whom thou canst do nothing, and if thou art living in close communion with christ, there will be no fear of thy having a dry heart. he who lives without prayer--he who lives with little prayer--he who seldom reads the word--he who seldom looks up to heaven for a fresh influence from on high--he will be the man whose heart will become dry and barren; but he who calls in secret on his god--who spends much time in holy retirement--who delights to meditate on the words of the most high--whose soul is given up to christ--who delights in his fulness, rejoices in his all-sufficiency, prays for his second coming, and delights in the thought of his glorious advent--such a man must have an overflowing heart; and as his heart is, such will his life be. it will be a full life; it will be a life that will speak from the sepulchre, and wake the echoes of the future. "keep thine heart with all diligence," and entreat the holy spirit to keep it full; for otherwise, the issues of thy life will be feeble, shallow, and superficial; and thou mayest as well not have lived at all. o for a heart thus full, and deep, and broad! find the man that hath such a heart, and he is the man from whom living waters shall flow, to make the world glad with their refreshing streams. _persevering prayer._ do not give up those prayers which god's spirit has put in your hearts--for remember, the things you have asked for are worth waiting for. besides, you are a beggar when you are in prayer; therefore you must not be a chooser as to the time when god shall hear you. if you had right ideas of yourself, you would say, "it is a wonder that he ever listens to me at all, so unworthy as i am. does the infinite indeed bow his ear to me? may i hope he will at last listen to me? then i may well continue my prayers." and recollect it is your only hope: there is no other saviour. this or none--christ's blood or else eternal wrath. and to whom shall you go, if you turn away from him? none ever yet perished pleading for mercy; therefore keep on. besides, better men than you have had to wait. kings, and patriarchs, and prophets have waited; therefore surely you can be content to sit in the king's antechamber a little while. it is an honor to sit as mordecai did at the gate. pray on--wait on! "ah!" says one, "that is just what i have been doing a long time." yes, yes, there are different kinds of waiting. a man says, "i have been waiting:" but he has folded his arms and gone to sleep. you may _wait_ in that way till you are lost. the waiting i mean is "getting all things ready"--the waiting of the poor sufferer for the physician, who cries out in pain, "is the doctor coming?" i will be surety for my master when i say that none such will be sent empty away. he will never break his promise. _try him_--try him! _humility._ what is humility of mind? humility is to make a right estimate of one's self. it is no humility for a man to think less of himself than he ought, though it might rather puzzle him to do that. some persons, when they know they can do a thing, tell you they cannot: but you surely would not call that humility? a man is asked to take part in some good work: "no," he says, "i have no ability;" yet, if you were to say so of him, he would be offended at you. it is not humility for a man to stand up and depreciate himself, and say he cannot do this, that, or the other, when he knows that it is untrue. if god gives a man a talent, do you think the man does not know it? if a man has ten talents, he has no right to be dishonest to his maker, and to say, "lord, thou hast only given me five." it is not humility to underrate your endowments: humility is to think of yourself, if you can, as god thinks of you. it is to feel that if we have talents, god has given them to us, and let it be seen that, like freight in a vessel, they tend to sink us low. the more we have, the lower we ought to lie. humility is not to say, "i have not this gift;" but it is to say, "i have the gift, and i must use it for my master's glory. i must never seek any honor for myself; for what have i that i have not received?" humility is to feel that we have no power of ourselves, but that it all cometh from god. humility is to lean on our beloved, saying, "i can do all things through christ, who strengtheneth me." it is, in fact, to annihilate self, and to exalt the lord jesus christ as all in all. _look upwards._ christian! in all thy troubles, look unto god, and be saved. in all thy trials and afflictions, look unto christ, and find deliverance. in all thine agony, in all thy repentance for thy guilt, look unto christ, and find pardon. remember to put thine eyes heavenward, and thine heart heavenward too. bind round thyself a golden chain, and put one link of it in the staple in heaven. look unto christ; fear not. there is no stumbling when a man walks with his eyes up to jesus. he that looks at christ walks safely. _the use of trial._ trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil, and let us see what we are made of; they just turn up some of the ill weeds on to the surface. _faith necessary._ "whatsoever things are lovely, and pure, and of good report," try and gain them; but remember that all these things put together, without faith, do not please god. virtues, _without faith_, are whitewashed sins. unbelief nullifies everything. it is the fly in the ointment; it is the poison in the pot. without faith--with all the virtues of purity, with all the benevolence of philanthropy, with all the kindness of disinterested sympathy, with all the talents of genius, with all the bravery of patriotism, and with all the decision of principle--you have no title to divine acceptance, for "without faith it is impossible to please god." faith fosters every virtue; unbelief withers every virtue in the bud. thousands of prayers have been stopped by unbelief; many songs of praise, that would have swelled the chorus of the skies, have been stifled by unbelieving murmurs; many a noble enterprise conceived in the heart has been blighted ere it could come forth by unbelief. faith is the samsonian lock of the christian: cut it off, and he can do nothing. peter, while he had faith, walked on the waves of the sea. but presently there came a billow behind him, and he said, "that will sweep me away;" and then another before, and he cried out, "that will overwhelm me;" and he thought, "how could i be so presumptuous as to walk on the top of these waves?" and as soon as he doubted, he began to sink. faith was peter's life-buoy--it kept him up; but unbelief sent him down. the christian's life may be said to be always "walking on the water," and every wave would swallow him up; but faith enables him to stand. the moment you cease to believe, that moment distress and failure follow. o, wherefore dost thou doubt, then? _christ "altogether lovely."_ in calling the lord jesus "altogether lovely," the church asserts that she sees nothing in him which she does not admire. the world may rail at his cross and call it shameful; to her it is the very centre and soul of glory. a proud and scornful nation might reject their king because of his manger-cradle and peasant-garb, but to her eye the prince is glorious in this poor apparel. he is never without beauty to her; never is his visage marred, or his glory stained. she presses his pierced feet to her bosom, and looks upon their wounds as jewels. fools stand by his cross and find full many a theme for jest and scorn: she discovers nothing but solemn reason for reverent adoration and unbounded love. viewing him in every office, position, and relationship, she cannot discover a flaw; in fact, the thought of imperfection is banished far away. she knows too well his perfect godhead and his spotless manhood, to offer a moment's shelter to the thought of a blemish in his immaculate person; she abominates every teaching that debases him; she spurns the most gorgeous drapery that would obscure his beauteous features; yea, so jealous is she of his honor, that she will hear no spirit which doth not witness to his praise. a hint against his undefiled conception or his unsullied purity would stir her soul to holy wrath, and speedy would be her execration, and relentless her execution of the heresy. nothing has ever aroused the ire of the church so fully as a word against her head. to all true believers this is high treason, and an offence which cannot be treated lightly. jesus is without a single blot or blemish, "altogether lovely." yet this negative praise, this bold denial of fault, is far from representing the fulness of the loving admiration of the church. jesus is positively _lovely_ in her eyes. not barely comely, nor merely fair, his beauties are attracting beauties, and his glories are such as charm the heart. love looks forth from those "dove's eyes, washed with milk, and fitly set;" it flows from those "lips like lilies dropping sweet-smelling myrrh," and it sparkles on those hands which are "full of gold rings, set with chrysolite." but although this utterance of the church is the very climax of the language of praise, and was doubtless intended as the acme of all description, yet it is not possible that this one sentence, even when expanded by the most careful meditation, should be able to express more than a mere particle of the admiration felt. like a son of anak, the sentence towers above all others; but its stature fails to reach the towering height of heaven-born love. it is but a faint symbol of unutterable affection; a choice pearl washed on shore from the deep sea of love. _the remedy for doubts._ the best way to get your faith strengthened is to have communion with christ. if you commune with christ you cannot be unbelieving. when his left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me, i cannot doubt. when my beloved sits at his table, and he brings me into his banqueting-house, and his banner over me is love, then, indeed, i do believe. when i feast with him, my unbelief is abashed, and hides its head. speak, ye that have been led in the green pastures, and have been made to lie down by the still waters; ye who have seen his rod and his staff, and hope to see them even when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death; speak, ye that have sat at his feet with mary, or laid your head upon his bosom with the well-beloved john; have you not found when you have been near to christ your faith has grown strong, and when you have been far away from him, your faith has become weak? it is impossible to look christ in the face and then doubt him. when you cannot see him, then you doubt him; but you must believe when your beloved speaks unto you, and says, "rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away." there is no hesitation then; you must arise from the lowlands of your doubt up to the hills of assurance. _all things working for good._ christ is the arbiter of all events; in everything his sway is supreme; and he exercises his power for the good of his church. he spins the thread of events, and acts from the distaff of destiny, and does not suffer those threads to be woven otherwise than according to the pattern of his loving wisdom. he will not allow the mysterious wheel to revolve in any way which shall not bring good unto his chosen. he makes their worst things blessings to them, and their best things he sanctifies. in times of plenty, he blesses their increase; in times of famine, he supplies all their needs. as all things are working for his glory, so all things are working for their good. _the triumph of grace._ it is one of the greatest of wonders that all men do not love christ. nothing manifests more clearly the utter corruption of our race than the fact that "he was despised and rejected of men." those, however, who have seen the fountains of the great deep of human depravity broken up, are not at a loss to account for the treatment of the messiah. it was not possible that darkness should have fellowship with light, or christ with belial. fallen man could not walk with jesus, for the two were not agreed. it was but the necessary result of the contact of two such opposites that the guilty creature should hate the perfect one. "crucify him, crucify him," is the natural cry of fallen man. our first wonder is displaced, and another wonder fills the sphere of thought. did we marvel that all men do not love?--it is a greater marvel still that any man does love jesus. in the first case we saw the terrible blindness which failed to discover the brightness of the sun--with a shudder we saw it, and were greatly amazed; but in this second instance we behold jesus of nazareth opening the fast-closed eye, and scattering the egyptian darkness with the divine radiance of his marvellous light. is this less a wonder? if it was a strange thing to witness the fearful ravings of the demoniac among the tombs, it is surely far more a prodigy to see that same man sitting at the feet of jesus clothed and in his right mind. it is indeed a triumph of grace when man's heart is brought to give its affection to jesus, for it proves that the work of satan is all undone, and that man is restored from his fallen state. _religion a personal matter._ some men say that they will test the holiness of christ's religion by the holiness of christ's people. you have no right, i reply, to put the question to any such test as that. the proper test that you ought to use is to try it yourselves--to "taste and see that the lord is good." by tasting and seeing you will prove his goodness, and by the same process you must prove the holiness of his gospel. your business is to seek christ crucified for yourselves, not to take the representation of another man concerning the power of grace to subdue corruption and to sanctify the heart. inasmuch as god has given you a bible, he intended you to read it, and not to be content with reading _men_. you are not to be content with feelings that rise through the conversation of others; your only power to know true religion is, by having his holy spirit operating upon your own heart, that you may yourself experience what is the power of religion. you have no right to judge religion from anything extra or external from itself. and if you despise it before you have tried it yourself, you must stand confessed in this world as a fool, and in the next world as a criminal. and yet this is so with most men. if you hear a man rail at the bible, you may usually conclude that he never reads it. and you may be quite certain if you hear a man speak against religion, that he never knew what religion was. true religion, when once it takes possession of the heart, never allows a man to quarrel with it. that man will call christ his best friend who knows christ at all. we have found many who have despised the enjoyments of this world, but we never found one who turned from religion with disgust or with satiety, after having once enjoyed it. no! no! you chose your own delusions, and you chose them at your own risk; you foster them at your own peril. for if you take your religion from other people, and are led by the example of professors to discard religion, you are nevertheless guilty of your own blood. god has not left you to the uncertain chart of men's characters: he has given you his own word; the more sure word of testimony, whereunto you do well that ye take heed. _strength through weakness._ the way to grow strong in christ is to become weak in yourself. god poureth no power into man's heart till man's power is all poured out. the christian's life is one of daily dependence on the grace and strength of god. _begin well._ i have known men run the race of religion with all their might, and yet they have lost it because they did not start right. you say, "well, how is that?" why, there are some people who on a sudden leap into religion. they get it quickly, and they keep it for a time, and at last they lose it because they did not get their religion the right way. they have heard that before a man can be saved, it is necessary that, by the teaching of the holy spirit, he should feel the weight of sin, that he should make a confession of it, that he should renounce all hope in his own works, and should look to jesus christ alone. they look upon all these things as unpleasant preliminaries, and, therefore, before they have attended to repentance, before the holy spirit has wrought a good work in them, before they have been brought to give up everything and trust to christ, they make a profession of religion. this is just setting up in business without a stock in trade, and there must be a failure. if a man has no capital to begin with, he may make a fine show for a little time, but it shall be as the crackling of thorns under a pot,--a great deal of noise and much light for a little while, but it shall die out in darkness. how many there are who never think it necessary that there should be heart work within! let us remember, however, that there never was a man who had a changed heart without his first having a miserable heart. we must pass through that black tunnel of conviction before we can come out upon the high embankment of holy joy; we must first go through the slough of despond before we can run along the walls of salvation. there must be ploughing before there is sowing; there must be many a frost, and many a sharp shower, before there is any reaping. but we often act like little children who pluck flowers from the shrubs, and plant them in their gardens without roots; then they say how fair and how pretty their little garden is; but wait a while, and all their flowers are withered, because they have no roots. this is all the effect of not having a right start, not having the "root of the matter." what is the good of outward religion, the flower and the leaf of it, unless we have the "root of the matter" in us--unless we have been ploughed with the plough of the spirit, and then have been sown with the sacred seed of the gospel, in the hope of bringing forth an abundant harvest? there must be a good start in running the christian race, for there is no hope of winning unless the start be right. _the robe of righteousness._ our court-dress in heaven, and our garment of sanctification for daily wear, are the condescending gifts of christ's love. _cross-bearers._ what an honorable position was that of simon the cyrenian, to be cross-bearer to jesus christ! we could almost weep that we were not there, that we might have had the honor of carrying christ's cross for him. but we need not weep, for we shall have his cross to carry if we are his people. there are no crown-wearers in heaven who were not cross-bearers here below. there shall be none among the throng of the glorified who had not their cross on earth. hast thou a cross, believer? shoulder it manfully! up with it! go along thy journey with unshrinking footsteps and a rejoicing heart, knowing that since it is _christ's_ cross it must be an honor to carry it; and that while you are bearing it you are in blessed company, for you are _following him_. _the happiness of religion._ let a man truly know the grace of our lord jesus christ, and he will be a happy man; and the deeper he drinks into the spirit of christ, the happier will he become. that religion which teaches misery to be a duty is false upon the very face of it, for god, when he made the world, studied the happiness of his creatures. you cannot help thinking, as you see everything around you, that god has sedulously, with the most strict attention, sought ways of pleasing man. he has not merely given us absolute necessaries, he has given us more; not simply the useful, but even the ornamental. the flowers in the hedgerow, the stars in the sky, the beauties of nature, the hill and the valley--all these things were intended not merely because we needed them, but because god would show how he loved us, and how anxious he was that we should be happy. now, it is not likely that the god who made a happy world would send a miserable salvation. he who is a happy creator will be a happy redeemer; and those who have tasted that the lord is gracious, can bear witness that the ways of religion "are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." and if this life were all, if death were the burial of all our life, and if the shroud were the winding-sheet of eternity, still to be a christian would be a bright and happy thing, for it lights up this valley of tears, and fills the wells in the valley of baca to the brim with streams of love and joy. _unchangeable._ there is one place where change cannot put its finger; there is one name on which mutability can never be written; there is one heart which can never alter--that place is the most holy--that heart is god's--that name is love. _increase of faith._ the way in which most men get their faith increased is by great trouble. we do not grow strong in faith in sunshiny days. it is in stormy weather that faith grows stronger. faith is not an attainment that droppeth like the gentle dew from heaven; it generally comes in the whirlwind and the storm. look at the old oaks; how is it that they have become so deeply-rooted in the earth? ask the march winds, and they will tell you. it was not the april shower that did it, or the sweet may sunshine, but the rough wind shaking the tree to and fro, causing its roots to strike deeper and to take a firmer hold. and so must it be with us. we cannot make great soldiers in the barracks at home; they must be made amidst flying shot and thundering cannon. we cannot expect to make good sailors on the serpentine; they must be trained far away on the deep sea, where the wild winds howl, and the thunders roll like drums in the march of the god of armies. storms and tempests are the things that make men tough and hardy mariners. they see the works of the lord, and his wonders in the deep. it is thus with christians. great-faith must have great trials. mr. great-heart would never have been mr. great-heart if he had not once been mr. great-trouble. valiant-for-truth would never have put to flight those foes, and have been so valiant, if the foes had not first attacked him. we must expect great troubles before we shall attain to much faith. _communion with christ._ one hour with christ is worth an eternity of all earth's joys; and communion with him is the best, the surest, and the most ecstatic foretaste of the bliss of heaven. _the soul satisfied in christ._ he who delights in the possession of the lord jesus hath all that heart can wish. as for created things, they are like shallow and deceitful brooks; they fail to supply our wants, much less our wishes. "the bed" of earthly enjoyment "is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it, and the covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it;" but in jesus there is room for imagination's utmost stretch and widest range. when jesus is enjoyed, he puts a fulness into all other mercies; his house is full when he is there; his throne of grace is full when he sits on it; and his guest-chamber is full when he is master of the feast. "the creature without christ is an empty thing, a lamp without oil, a bone without marrow;" but when christ is present our cup runneth over, and we eat bread to the full. a dinner of herbs, when we have communion with him, is as rich a feast as a stalled ox; and our narrow cot is as noble a mansion as the great house of the wealthy. go not abroad, ye hungry wishes of my soul--stay ye at home, and feast on jesus; for abroad ye must starve, since all other beloveds are empty and undesirable. stay with christ, and eat ye that which is good, and delight yourself in fatness. _the lord's jewels._ goldsmiths make exquisite forms from precious material: they fashion the bracelet and the ring from gold. god maketh his precious things out of base material; and from the black pebbles of the defiling brooks he hath taken up stones, which he hath set in the golden ring of his immutable love, to make them gems to sparkle on his finger forever. _memorials of jesus._ the love of the church extends beyond the person of the bridegroom, and reaches to everything connected with him. "all _thy garments_ smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad." his very vestments are precious in her esteem. she rejoices to sing of him in his priestly garments. "the mitred crown, the embroidered vest, with graceful dignity he wears; and in full splendor on his breast the sacred oracle appears." arrayed in his royal robes, he is not less glorious in her eyes: she loves to see his crown, and own her king. there is not a word which his lip hath uttered, nor a place whereon his foot hath trodden, nor a vessel which his hands have handled, which is not wholly consecrated in her esteem. we are no worshippers of the ragged relics so fondly hoarded by rome; but we have other and far better memorials--holy things that are of inestimable worth. his written word, over which, we even now see that loving hand moving as it did when, many a year ago, it wrote each character; the echo of his departed voice not yet buried in silence; his wine-cup not yet empty; his blood still flowing, and his benediction still breathing peace upon us: all these still remain, and are valued above all price. we esteem his ordinances, and we triumph in his teaching, however the world-wise may contemn it. his service is our delight; to stand at his gates is honor, and to run before his chariot is bliss. as for his people, we greet them as saints, we call them our brethren, and they are most near and dear to us for _his_ sake. the meanest beggar in his church is of more account to us than the proudest monarch out of it. "because he belongs to christ," is always a sufficient reason for the outflow of our affection; for all that is his is dear to us. "_freely give._" o christian, whenever thou art inclined to an avaricious withholding from the church of god, think of thy saviour giving up all that he had to serve thee! and canst thou then--when thou beholdest self-denial so noble--canst thou then be selfish, and regard thy dainties of more account than their necessities, when the claims of the poor of the flock are pressed upon thee? remember jesus; think thou seest him looking upon thee, and saying, "i gave myself for thee, and dost thou withhold thyself from me? for if thou dost, thou knowest not my love in all its heights, and depths, and lengths, and breadths." _religion--a present enjoyment._ religion has its present enjoyments. speak, ye that know them, for ye can tell; yet ye cannot recount them all. o, would ye give up your religion for all the joys that earth calls good or great? say, if your immortal life could be extinguished, would you give it up, even for all the kingdoms of this world? o, ye sons of poverty, has not this been a candle to you in the darkness? has not this lightened you through the heavy shades of your tribulation? o, ye sons of toil, has not this been your rest, your sweet repose? have not the testimonies of god been your song in the house of your pilgrimage? o, ye children of sorrow, racked with pain, has not religion been to you a sweet _quietus_ in your sufferings? is not religion worth having in the sick chamber? and ye men of business, speak for yourselves. you have hard struggles to pass through life. sometimes you have been driven to a great extremity, and whether you would succeed or not seemed to hang upon a thread. has not your religion been a joy to you in your difficulties? has it not calmed your minds? when you have been fretted and troubled about worldly things, have you not found it pleasant to enter your closet, and shut to the door, and tell your father in secret all your cares? and, o, ye that are rich, cannot you bear the same testimony, if you have loved the master? what had all your riches been to you without a saviour? can you not say that your religion did gild your gold, and make your silver shine more brightly? for all things that you have are sweetened by this thought, that you have all these and christ too. was there ever a child of god who could deny this? we have heard of many infidels who grieved over their infidelity when they came to die: did you ever hear of any one on his death-bed looking back on a life of holiness with sorrow? never, never did we know a christian who repented of his christianity. we have seen christians so suffering, that we wondered that they lived; so poor, that we wondered at their misery; we have seen them so full of doubts, that we pitied their unbelief; but we never heard them say, even then, "i regret that i gave myself to christ." no; with the dying clasp, when heart and flesh were failing, we have seen them hug this treasure to their breast, and press it to their heart, still feeling that this was their life, their joy, their all. o! if ye would be happy, if ye would be saved, if ye would strew your path with sunshine, and dig out the nettles and blunt the thorns, "seek first the kingdom of god, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." seek not happiness first; seek christ first; and happiness shall come after. seek ye first the lord, and then he will provide for you in this life, and he will crown it with everything that is glorious in the life to come. "_our lord jesus._" whatever blissful consequences flow from the perfect obedience, the finished atonement, the resurrection, ascension, or intercession of the lord jesus, all are ours by his own gift. upon his breastplate he is now wearing our names; and in his authoritative pleadings at the throne he remembers us and pleads our cause. the advantages of his high position, his dominion over principalities and powers, and his absolute majesty in heaven, he employs for the benefit of them that trust in him. his high estate is as much at our service as was his condition of abasement. he who gave himself for us in the depths of woe and death, doth not withdraw the grant now that he is enthroned in the highest heavens. christ hath no dignity which he will not employ for our exaltation, and no prerogative which he will not exercise for our defence. christ everywhere and in every way is our portion, forever and ever most richly to enjoy. _providence._ the boundless stores of providence are engaged for the support of the believer. christ is our joseph, who has granaries full of wheat; but he does not treat us as joseph did the egyptians, for he opens the door of his storehouse, and bids us call all the good thereof our own. he has entailed upon his estate of providence a perpetual charge of a daily portion for us; and he has promised that one day we shall clearly perceive that the estate itself has been well-farmed on our behalf, and has been always ours. the axle of the wheels of the chariot of providence is infinite love, and gracious wisdom is the perpetual charioteer. _the intercession of christ._ the lord jesus has led captivity captive, and now sits at the right hand of god, forever making intercession for us. can your faith picture him? like a levitical high priest of old he stands with outstretched arms: there is majesty in his mien, and with authority he pleads. on his head is the bright shining mitre of his priesthood, and on his breast are glittering the precious stones whereon the names of his people are everlastingly engraven. hear him as he pleads--hear you not what it is? is that your prayer which he is mentioning before the throne? the prayer that this morning you offered, christ is now offering before his father's throne. the vow which just now you uttered, he is now uttering there. he is the altar and priest, and with his own sacrifice he perfumes our prayers. and yet, mayhap, you have been praying long, and had no answer. poor, weeping suppliant! thou hast sought the lord and he hath not seemed to hear thee, or at least not answered thee to thy soul's delight, and thou art full of darkness and heaviness on account of this. "look to him, and be lightened." if thou dost not succeed, he will; if thy intercession be unnoticed, his cannot be passed away; if thy prayers can be like water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up, yet his prayers are not like that; he is god's son--he pleads and must prevail. god cannot refuse his own son what he now asks--he who once bought mercies with his blood. o, be of good cheer, continue still thy supplication, for jesus "ever liveth to make intercession" for thee. _holiness._ holiness is the architectural plan upon which god buildeth up his living temple. _the new heart._ god does not promise that he will improve our nature, or that he will mend our broken hearts. no; the promise is, that he will give us new hearts and right spirits. human nature is too far gone ever to be mended. it is not a house which is a little out of repair, with here and there a slate blown from the roof, and here and there a piece of plaster broken down from the ceiling. no; it is rotten throughout; the very foundations have been sapped; there is not a single timber in it which is sound; it is all rottenness from its uppermost roof to its lowest foundation, and ready to fall. god doth not attempt to mend; he does not shore up the walls, and re-paint the door; he does not garnish and beautify, but he determines that the old house shall be entirely swept away, and that he will build a new one. it is too far gone to be mended. if it were only a little out of repair, it might be restored. if only a wheel or two of that great thing called "manhood" were out of repair, then he who made man might put the whole to rights; he might put a new cog where it had been broken off, and another wheel where it had gone to ruin, and the machine might work anew. but no; the whole of it is out of repair; there is not one lever which is not broken; not one axle which is not disturbed. "the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint. from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, it is wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores." the lord, therefore, does not attempt the repairing of this thing, but he says, "a new heart also will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you." _the christian's daily cross._ believer, christ jesus presents thee with thy crosses, and they are no mean gifts. _joy over the repenting._ the angels know what the joys of heaven are, and therefore they rejoice over one sinner that repenteth. we talk about pearly gates, and golden streets, and white robes, and harps of gold, and crowns of amaranth; but if an angel could speak to us of heaven, he would smile and say, "all these fine things are but child's talk, and ye are little children, and ye cannot understand the greatness of eternal bliss; and therefore god has given you a child's horn-book, and an alphabet, in which you may learn the first rough letters of what heaven is, but _what it is_ thou dost not know. o mortal, thine eye hath never yet beheld its splendors; thine ear hath never yet been ravished with its melodies; thy heart has never been transported with its peerless joys." yes, we may talk, and think, and guess, and dream, but we can never measure the infinite heaven which god has provided for his children. but the angels know its glory; hence a reason that they rejoice over the repenting sinner who has thus become heir to such an inheritance. _god's tender care._ how careful god is of his people; how anxious he is concerning them, not only for their life, but for their comfort. does he say, "strengthen ye, strengthen ye my people?" does he say to the angel, "protect my people?" does he not say to the heavens, "drop down manna to feed my people?" all that, and more also. his tender regard secures to them. but to show us that he is not only regardful of our interests, but also of our superfluities, he says, "comfort ye, comfort ye my people." he would have us not only his living people, and his preserved people, but he would have us his happy people too. he likes his people to be fed; but what is more, he likes to give them "wines on the lees well refined," to make glad their hearts. he will not only give them "bread," but he will give them "honey" too; he will not simply give them "milk," but he will give them "wine and milk." "comfort ye, comfort ye my people:" it is the father's yearning heart, careful even for the little things of his people. "comfort ye" that one with a tearful eye; "comfort ye" yon child of mine with an aching heart; "comfort ye" that poor bemoaning one; "comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your god." _the christian's crown._ have christians a crown? o, yes; but they do not wear it every day. they have a crown, but their coronation-day is not yet arrived; they have been anointed monarchs; they have some of the authority and dignity of monarchs, only they are not crowned monarchs yet. but the crown is made. god will not have to order heaven's goldsmiths to fashion it in after-time: it is made already, hanging up in glory. god hath "laid up for me a crown of righteousness." _obedience to god's will._ to the christian there is no argument so potent as god's will. god's will is the believer's law. he doth not ask what shall it profit him--what shall be the good effect of it upon others, but he simply says, "doth my father command it?" and his prayer is, "o holy spirit, help me to obey, not because i see how it shall be good for me, but simply because thou commandest." it is the christian's privilege to do god's commandments, "hearkening to the voice of his word." _the gospel._ there is everything in the gospel that you want. do you want something to bear you up in trouble? it is in the gospel: "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." do you need something to nerve you for duty? there is grace all-sufficient for everything which god calls you to undergo or to accomplish. do you need something to light up the eye of your hope? o! there are joy-flashes in the gospel which make your eye flash back again the immortal fires of bliss. do you want something to make you stand steadfast in the midst of temptation? in the gospel there is that which can make you immovable, always abounding in the work of the lord. there is no passion, no affection, no thought, no wish, no power which the gospel has not filled to the very brim. the gospel was evidently meant for manhood: it is adapted to it in its every part. there is knowledge for the head; there is love for the heart; there is guidance for the foot. _believing prayer._ prayers are heard in heaven very much in proportion to our faith. little faith will get very great mercies, but great faith still greater. it was the custom in old times, for all the poor in the parish to call at every house with bowls for provisions; and whatever size the bowl was, every generous person would fill it. faith is our bowl: if we have got only "little faith," we shall get that filled; but if we have got "great faith," we shall have that filled also. little faith getteth much; but great faith is a noble and princely merchant, and doth a great trade--it obtaineth millions where little faith only gaineth hundreds. great faith getteth hold of god's treasure. _warfare for sin._ o christian, never take hold of sin, except with a gauntlet on thy hand; never go to it with the kid-glove of friendship; never talk delicately of it; but always hate it in every shape. if it comes to thee as a little fox, take heed of it, for it will spoil the grapes. whether it bounds towards thee as a roaring lion, seeking whom it may devour, or makes advances in an attractive form, with graceful mien, seeking by a pretended affection to entice thee into sin--beware; for its hug is death, and its clasp destruction. sin of every kind thou art to war with--of lip, of hand, of heart. however gilded with profit; however varnished with the seemliness of morality; however complimented by the great, or however popular with the multitude, thou art to hate sin everywhere, in all its disguises, at every time, and in every place. not one sin is to be spared, but against the whole is to be proclaimed an utter and entire war of extermination. _how to read the bible._ you may read the bible continuously, and yet never learn anything by it, unless it is illuminated by the spirit; and then the words shine forth like stars. the book seems made of gold leaf; every single letter glitters like a diamond. o! it is a blessed thing to read an illuminated bible lit up by the radiance of the holy ghost. hast thou read the bible, and yet have thine eyes been unenlightened? go and say, "o lord, illuminate it; shine upon it; for i cannot read it to profit, unless thou enlightenest me." blind men may read the bible with their fingers, but blind souls cannot. we want a light to read the bible by; there is no reading it in the dark. _a view of christ._ a view of christ is always beneficial to a christian--too much of christ we cannot have--there can be no tautology where his name is mentioned. give us christ always, christ ever. the monotony of christ is sweet variety; and even the unity of christ hath in it all the elements of harmony. christ on his cross and on his throne, in the manger and in the tomb--christ everywhere is sweet to us. we love his name, we adore his person, we delight to hear of his works--the theme is ever new. there are some who complain that their love to the saviour is faint and cold. but this would not be if they were more with jesus. the closer you live to christ, and the more you know him, the better you will love him. do not try to produce in yourself a certain degree of love to christ by some extraordinary means; but go into his presence, meditate upon him continually, picture to yourself his sufferings for you, and then you will love him--it will become easy to you, for _he_ will draw your poor heart closer to himself, as you thus think about him; and your love to him will grow just in proportion as you realize his love to you. _the author and finisher of faith._ o lord! of what small account are the best of men apart from thee! how high they rise when thou liftest them up! how low they fall if thou withdraw thy hand! it is our joy, amidst distress, when thou enablest us to say, "though he slay me, yet will i trust in him;" but if thou take away thy spirit, we cannot even trust thee in the brightest day. when storms gather round us we can smile at them, if thou be with us; but in the fairest morn which ever shone on human heart, we doubt and we miscarry if thou be not with us still, to preserve and strengthen the faith which thou hast thyself bestowed. _the glad command._ "delight thyself in the lord." this law of one command is no stony law to be written upon tablets of granite, but it contains a precept, for sparkling brightness worthy to be written on amethysts and pearls. "delight thyself in the lord." when delight becomes a duty, duty must certainly be a delight. when it becomes my duty to be happy, and i have an express command to be glad, i must indeed be foolish if i refuse my own joys, and turn aside from my own bliss. o, what a god we have, who has made it our duty to be happy! what a gracious god, who accounts no obedience to be so worthy of his acceptance as a gladsome obedience rendered by a joyous heart. "delight thyself in the lord." _untiring delight._ who ever called the sea monotonous? even to the mariner, travelling over it as he does, sometimes by the year together, there is always a freshness in the undulation of the waves, the whiteness of the foam of the breaker, the curl of the crested billow, and the frolicsome pursuit of every wave by its long train of brothers. which of us has ever complained that the sun gave us but little variety? what though at morn he yoke the same steeds, and flash from his car the same golden glory, climb with dull uniformity the summit of the skies, then drive his chariot downward, and bid his flaming coursers steep their burning fetlocks in the western deep? or who among us would complain loathingly of the bread which we eat, that it palls upon the sense of taste? we eat it to-day, to-morrow, the next day; we have eaten it for years which are passed; still the one unvarying food is served upon the table, and bread remains the staff of life. translate these earthly experiences into heavenly mysteries. if christ is your food and your spiritual bread; if christ is your sun, your heavenly light; if christ is the sea of love in which your passions swim, and all your joys are found, it is not possible that you as christian men, should complain of monotony in him. "he is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever;" and yet he has the "dew of his youth." he is like the manna in the golden pot, which was always the same; but he is also like the manna which came down from heaven, every morning new. he is as the rod of moses, which was dry, and changed not its shape; but he is also to us as the rod of aaron, which buds, and blossoms, and brings forth almonds. _divine teaching._ in the depth of troubles we learn the sufficiency of grace. well may they "glory in tribulations also," who have learnt in them the most profitable lessons of grace--proved in them how ample is the provision of grace, and realized in them the certainty of the triumph of grace. i know not whether all soldiers love the thought of war--some do; there are many who pant for a campaign. how often an officer of low rank has repeated the murmur, "there is no promotion; no hope of rising; no honors; no prize-money, as if we had to fight. could we rush to the cannon's mouth, there would be some prospect before us of gaining promotion in the ranks." men get few medals to hang upon their breasts who never know the smell of gunpowder. the brave days, as men call them, of nelson and trafalgar have gone by; and we thank god for it. still we do not expect to see such brave old veterans, the offspring of this age, as those who are still to be found lingering in our hospitals, the relics of our old campaigns. no, brethren, we must have trials if we are to get on. young men do not become midshipmen altogether through going to the school at greenwich, and climbing the mast on dry land; they must go out to sea. we must do business in great waters; we must be really on the deck in a storm, if we would see the works of the lord and his wonders in the deep. we must have stood side by side with king david; we must have gone down into the pit to slay the lion, or have lifted up the spear against the eight hundred, if we would know the saving strength of god's right hand. conflicts bring experience, and experience brings that growth in grace which is not to be attained by any other means. _seeking christ._ consider, o waiting soul, that the mercy is worth tarrying for. is it not salvation--thy soul's deliverance from hell? a long tarrying at the gate of mercy will be well repaid, if the king, at last, will give thee this jewel of exceeding price. bethink thee, also, how utterly unworthy thou art of the mercy; therefore be not loath to humble thyself, or patiently to abide the sovereign will of jehovah. proud men must be noticed at once, or they will depart; but thou hast nothing to boast of, and shouldst feel that if he disregarded thee for a long season, thine unworthiness could demand no apology for his delay. moreover, remember that he _will_ hear at last. his promise would be violated, if one praying soul could perish; for he has said, "seek, and ye _shall_ find"--"whosoever calleth on the name of the lord _shall_ be saved." the delay may be for thy good, to lay thee lower in the dust of self-abasement, or to make thee more earnest for the blessing. possibly the lord intends to try thy faith, that, like the woman of syrophenicia, thou mayst reflect honor on him by thy confidence in him. pray on, for "the lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him." "_christ in you._" what is it to have "christ in you?" the romanist hangs the cross on his bosom; the true christian carries the cross in his heart; and a cross inside the heart is one of the sweetest cures for a cross on the back. if you have a cross in your heart--christ crucified in you, the hope of glory--the cross of this world's troubles will seem to you light enough, and you will easily be able to sustain it. christ in the heart, means christ believed in, christ beloved, christ trusted, christ espoused, christ communed with, christ as our daily food, and ourselves as the temple and palace wherein jesus christ daily walks. ah! there are many who are total strangers to the meaning of this phrase. they do not know what it is to have jesus christ in them. though they know a little about christ on calvary, they know nothing about christ in the heart. now, remember, that christ on calvary will save no man, unless christ be in the heart. the son of mary, born in the manger, will not save you, unless he be also born in your heart, and live there--your joy, your strength, and your consolation. _consolation._ consolation is the dropping of a gentle dew from heaven on desert hearts beneath; it is one of the choicest gifts of divine mercy. _self-examination._ "if so be ye have tasted that the lord is gracious." "_if_"--then there is a possibility that some may _not_ have tasted that the lord is gracious, and it is needful to inquire whether we are amongst the number who know the grace of god by heart-experience. there is no spiritual revelation which may not be a matter of heart-searching. at the very summit of holy delight we meet the challenge of sentinel "if"--"if ye then be risen with christ;" and at the very bottom of the hill, even at repentance-gate itself, he meets us with a warrant of arrest, until he sees whether our sorrow is the godly sorrow which needeth not to be repented of. "if thou be the son of god," is not always a temptation of the devil, but often a very healthy inquiry, most fittingly suggested by holy anxiety to men who would build securely upon the rock of ages. at the lord's table itself it is proper for us to pray, "lord, is it i?" when there is a judas in the company; and after the most intimate fellowship, christ exclaimed, "simon, son of jonas, lovest thou me?" let no enjoyment of ordinances, let no high and rapt fellowship which we may have known, exempt us from the great duty of proving ourselves whether we be in the faith. examine yourselves then in this matter, and rest not satisfied until you can say, "there is no 'if' about it; i _have tasted_ that the lord is gracious." _heaven an inheritance._ "the _inheritance of the saints_." so then, heaven, with all its glories, is an _inheritance_. now, an inheritance is not a thing which is bought with money, earned by labor, or won by conquest. if any man hath an inheritance, in the proper sense of that term, it came to him by birth. and thus it is with heaven. the man who shall receive this glorious heritage, will not obtain it by the works of the law, nor by the efforts of the flesh; it will be given to him as a matter of most gracious right, because he has been "begotten again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of jesus christ from the dead;" and has thus become an heir of heaven by blood and birth. they who come unto glory are sons; for is it not written, "the captain of our salvation bringeth many sons unto glory?" they come not there as servants; no servant has any right to the inheritance of his master. be he never so faithful, yet is he not his master's heir. but because ye are sons--sons by the spirit's regeneration--sons by the father's adoption--because by supernatural energy ye have been born again, ye become inheritors of eternal life, and ye enter into the many mansions of our father's house above. let us always understand, then, when we think of heaven, that it is a place which is to be ours, and a state which we are to enjoy as the result of _birth_--not as the result of work. "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god." that kingdom being an "inheritance," until ye have the new birth ye can have no claim to enter it. _the sleep of death._ "the sleep of death"--what is this sleep? we know that the surface idea connected with sleep is that of _resting_. the eyes of the sleeper ache no more with the glare of light or with the rush of tears; his ears are teased no more with the noise of strife or the murmur of suffering; his hand is no more weakened by long protracted effort and painful weariness; his feet are no more blistered with journeyings to and fro along a rugged road; there is ease for aching heads, and overtaxed nerves, and heavy hearts, in the sweet repose of sleep. on yonder couch, however hard, the laborer shakes off his toil, the merchant his care, the thinker his difficulties, and the sufferer his pains. sleep makes each night a sabbath for the day. sleep shuts to the door of the soul, and bids all intruders tarry for a while. so is it with the body while it sleeps in the tomb. the weary are at rest: the servant is as much at ease as his lord. no more the worker leans on his spade, no more the thinker props his pensive head. the wheel stands still; the shuttle is not in motion; the hand which turned the one and the fingers which threw the other are quiet also. the grave shuts out all disturbance, labor, or effort. the toilworn believer quietly sleeps, as does the child weary with its play, when it shuts its eyes and slumbers on its mother's breast. o! happy they who die in the lord; they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them. we would not shun toil, for though it be in itself a curse, it is, when sanctified, a blessing; yet toil for toil's sake we would not choose: and when _god's_ work is done, we are too glad to think that _our_ work is done too. the mighty husbandman, when we have fulfilled our day, shall bid his servants rest upon the best of beds, for the clods of the valley shall be sweet to them. their repose shall never be broken until he shall rouse them up to give them their full reward. guarded by angel-watchers, curtained by eternal mysteries, resting on the lap of mother earth, ye shall sleep on, ye heritors of glory, till the fulness of time shall bring you the fulness of redemption. _foretastes of heaven._ is it possible for us to know anything whatever of our heavenly home? is there power in human intellect to fly into the land of the hereafter, where god's people rest eternally? our inquiry is met at the outset by what seems a positive denial: "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which god hath prepared for them that love him." if we paused here, we might give up all idea of beholding from hence that "goodly land and lebanon;" but we do not pause, for, like the apostle, we go on with the text, and we add, "but god hath revealed them unto us by his spirit." it _is_ possible to look within the veil; god's spirit _can_ turn it aside for a moment, and bid us take a glimpse, though it be a distant one, at that unutterable glory. there are "pisgahs" even now on the earth, from the top of which the celestial canaan can be beheld; there are hallowed hours in which the mists and clouds are swept away, and the sun shineth in his strength, and our eye, being freed from its natural dimness, beholds something of that land which is very far off, and sees a little of the joy and blessedness which is reserved for the people of god hereafter. by the holy spirit there is given to them, even now, in seasons of blissful communion, such experiences, joys, and feelings, as seem to bring heaven down to them, and make them able to realize, in some faint measure, what heaven itself must be. _the work of the spirit._ let us ever remember that christ on the cross is of no value to us apart from the holy spirit in us. in vain that blood is flowing, unless the finger of the spirit applies the blood to our conscience; in vain is that garment of righteousness wrought out, unless the holy spirit wraps it around us, and arrays us in its costly folds. the river of the water of life cannot quench our thirst, till the spirit presents the goblet and lifts it to our lips. all the things which are in the paradise of god could never be blissful to us, so long as we are dead souls--and dead we are, until that heavenly wind comes and breathes upon us, that we may live. we do not hesitate to say, that we owe as much to god the holy ghost, as we do to god the son. indeed, it were a high sin and misdemeanor to attempt to put one person of the divine trinity before another. thou, o father, art the source of all grace, all love and mercy towards us. thou, o son, art the channel of thy father's mercy, and without thee thy father's love could never flow to us. and thou, o spirit, art he who enables us to receive that divine virtue which flows from the fountain-head, the father, through christ the channel, and which, by thy means, enters into our heart, and there abides, and brings forth its glorious fruit. magnify, then, the spirit. there never yet was a heavenly thought, a hallowed deed, or a consecrated act, acceptable to god by jesus christ, which was not worked in us by the holy spirit. _peace._ the believer enjoys, in favored seasons, such an intimacy with the lord jesus, as fills his heart with an overflowing peace. o! there are sweet words which jesus whispers in the ears of his people, and there are love-visits which he pays to them, which a man would not believe, even though it should be told unto him. he who would comprehend it, must experience in his own heart what it is to have fellowship with the father, and with his son jesus christ. there is such a thing as christ manifesting himself to us as he does not unto the world. all doubting thoughts are banished then, and we can say, "i am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." this is the one all-absorbing feeling. and what wonder is it that the believer has such deep peace, when christ thus dwells in the heart, and reigns there without a rival? it were a miracle of miracles, if we did _not_ have peace. but how is it that our peace is not more continuous? the only explanation of our frequent loss of peace is, that our communion is broken, and our fellowship is marred; else would our peace be like a river, and our righteousness like the waves of the sea. live near the cross, and your peace shall be continual. _earth's seasons._ the things which are seen are types of the things which are not seen. the works of creation are pictures to the children of god of the secret mysteries of grace. god's truths are the apples of gold, and the visible creatures are the baskets of silver. the very seasons of the year find their parallel in the little world of man within. we have our winter--dreary, howling winter--when the north wind of the law rusheth forth against us; when every hope is nipped; when all the seeds of joy lie buried beneath the dark clods of despair; when our soul is fast fettered like a river bound with ice, without waves of joy, or flowings of thanksgiving. thanks be unto god, the soft south wind breathes upon our soul, and at once the waters of desire are set free, the spring of love cometh on, flowers of hope appear in our hearts, the trees of faith put forth their young shoots, the time of the singing-birds cometh in our hearts, and we have joy and peace in believing through the lord jesus christ. that happy springtide is followed in the believer by a rich summer, when his graces, like fragrant flowers, are in full bloom, loading the air with perfume; and fruits of the spirit, like citrons and pomegranates, swell into their full proportion in the genial warmth of the sun of righteousness. then cometh the believer's autumn, when his fruits grow ripe, and his fields are ready for the harvest; the time has come when his lord shall gather together his "pleasant fruits," and store them in heaven; the feast of ingathering is at hand--the time when the year shall begin anew, an unchanging year, like the years of the right hand of the most high. _love undeserved._ there is nothing which makes one love christ, so much as a sense of his love balanced with a sense of our unworthiness of it. it is sweet to think that christ loves us; but, o, to remember that we are black as the "tents of kedar," and yet he loves us! this is a thought which may well wean us from everything else beside. _the infallible commentary._ those who would best know god's word, must study it in its own light. _a place of trust._ _take care that thou puttest all thy dear ones into god's hand_. thou hast put thine own soul there, put their souls and bodies likewise into his custody. thou canst trust him for temporals for thyself, trust thy jewels with him. feel that they are not thine own, but that they are god's loans to thee--loans which may be recalled at any moment--precious denizens of heaven, not entailed upon thee, but of which thou art only a tenant at will. your possessions are never so safe as when you are willing to resign them, and you are never so rich as when you put all you have into the hand of the lord. you shall find it greatly mitigate the sorrow of bereavements, if before bereavement you shall have learned to surrender every day all the things which are dearest to you, into the keeping of your gracious god. "_consider him._" o believer, who art weary and disheartened because of the roughness of the way, look at the master's footsteps, and see how _he_ suffered. you are tried and troubled, and you ask for consolation. what better can be afforded you than what is presented to you in the fact that jesus christ is one with you in your nature--that he has suffered all that you are now suffering--that your pathway has been aforetime trodden by his sacred foot--that the cup of which you drink is a cup which he has drained to the very bottom--that the river through which you pass is one through which he swam, and every wave and billow which rolls over your head did in old time roll over him. come! are you ashamed and unwilling to suffer what your master suffered? shall the disciple be above his master, and the servant above his lord? shall he die upon a cross, and will not you bear the cross? must he be crowned with thorns, and shall you be crowned with laurel? is he to be pierced in hands and feet, and are his followers to feel no pain? o, cast away the fond delusion. look to him who "endured the cross, despising the shame," and be ready to endure and to suffer even as he did. you have his example to guide you, and his sympathy to cheer you. _the joy of pardon._ o what a joyous thing it is to have a ray of heavenly sunlight in the soul, and to hear the very voice of god as he walks in the garden of our souls in the cool of the day, saying to us, "son, thy sins which are many, are all forgiven thee." the whisper of that heavenly voice may raise our heart to bliss almost divine. it confers a joy not to be equalled by all the pleasures, the riches, and the enjoyments of this world can afford. to have the divine kiss of acceptance, to be robed in the best robe, to wear the ring on the hand and the shoes on the feet, to hear the heavenly music and dancing with which returning prodigals are welcomed to their father's house--this, indeed, is bliss and blessedness worth worlds to realize. _inexhaustible promises._ god's promises are not exhausted when they are fulfilled, for when once performed, they stand just as good as they did before, and we may wait a second accomplishment of them. man's promises, even at the best, are like a cistern which holds but a temporary supply; but god's promises are as a fountain, never emptied, ever overflowing, so you may draw from them the whole measure of that which they apparently contain, and they shall be still as full as ever. _the fulness of christ._ at our very best we are strangers to much of the incomparable sweetness of christ. we shall never exhaust his goodness by our praise, for he is ever so fresh, and has so much of the dew of his youth, that every day he has a new song to sing. we shall find him a new christ every day of our lives, and yet he is ever the same; his surpassing excellence and unexhausted fulness thus constantly renew our love. o jesus! none can guess how great is the least of thine attributes, or how rich the poorest of thy gifts. _true blessing._ christ, when he blesses, blesses not in word only, but in deed. the lips of truth cannot promise more than the hands of love will surely give. _faith and feeling._ we are saved by faith, and not by feeling; yet there is a relation between holy faith and hallowed feeling like that between the root and the flower. faith is permanent as the root which is ever embedded in the soil; feeling is casual, and has its seasons--the bulb does not always shoot up the green stem, far less is it always crowned with its many flowers. faith is the tree, the essential tree: our feelings are like the appearance of that tree during the different seasons of the year. sometimes our soul is full of bloom and blossom, and the bees hum pleasantly, and gather honey within our hearts. it is then that our feelings bear witness to the life of our faith, just as the buds of spring bear witness to the life of the tree. anon, our feelings gather still greater vigor, and after we come to the summer of our delights, again perhaps, we begin to wither into the sear and yellow leaf of autumn; nay, sometimes the winter of our despondency and despair will strip away every leaf from the tree, and our poor faith stands like a blasted stem without a sign of verdure. and yet, so long as the tree of faith is there, we are saved. whether faith blossom or not, whether it bring forth joyous fruit in our experience or not, so long as it be there in all its permanence, we are saved. yet should we have the gravest reason to distrust the life of our faith, if it did not sometimes blossom with joy, and often bring forth fruit unto holiness. _near home._ the best moment of a christian's life is his last one, because it is the one which is nearest heaven; and then it is that he begins to strike the key-note of the song which he shall sing to all eternity. o! what a song will that be! _beauty in christ._ there is a thing called _beauty_, which wins upon the hearts of men. mighty men, not a few, have bowed before it, and paid it homage; but if you want true beauty, look into the face of jesus, for there you have the concentration of all loveliness. there is no beauty anywhere but in christ. o sun, thou art not fair, when once compared with him. o, fair world, and grand creation of a glorious god, thou art but a dim and dusky blot compared with the splendors of his face. when we shall see christ, we shall be compelled to say that we never knew what loveliness was before. when the clouds are swept away, when the curtains which hide him from our view are drawn aside, we shall find that not anything we have seen or heard of, grand or graceful, in the wide universe, will bear a moment's comparison with him, who was once seen as a root out of a dry ground, but shall presently fill heaven and earth with lustre, and gladden all hearts with his glory. _the savior's legacy._ "peace i leave with you." our savior here means peace _with god_, and peace _with our own conscience_. peace with god--for he "hath reconciled us to himself by jesus christ," and now there is "peace on earth," and "good will towards men." christ has put our sins away, and therefore there is a virtual substantial peace established between god and our souls. this, however, might exist without our clearly understanding and rejoicing in it. christ has, therefore, given this further witness--peace in the conscience. peace with god is the treaty: peace with conscience is the publication of it. peace with god is the fountain, and peace with conscience is the crystal stream which issues from it. there is a peace decreed in the court of divine justice in heaven; and then there follows as a necessary consequence, as soon as the news is known, a peace in the minor court of human judgment, wherein conscience sits upon the throne to judge us according to our works. the legacy, then, of christ is a twofold peace; a _peace_ of friendship, of agreement, of love, of everlasting union between the elect and god; and a _peace_ of sweet enjoyment, of quiet rest to the understanding and the conscience. when there are no winds above, there will be no tempests below: when heaven is serene, earth is quiet. conscience reflects the complacency of god. "therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with god, through jesus christ our lord." _needless poverty._ many a believer lives in the cottage of doubt when he might live in the mansion of faith. _the sin of unbelief._ to doubt the lovingkindness of god, is thought by some to be a very small sin; in fact, some have even exalted the doubts and fears of god's people into fruits and graces, and evidences of great advancement in experience. but to doubt the kindness, the faithfulness, and the love of god, is a very heinous offence. that can be no light sin which makes god a liar; and yet unbelief does in effect cast foul and slanderous suspicion upon the veracity of the holy one of israel. that can be no small offence which charges the creator of heaven and earth with perjury; and yet, if i mistrust his oath, and will not believe his promise, sealed with the blood of his own son, i count the oath of god to be unworthy of my trust; and so i do, in very deed, accuse the king of heaven as false to his covenant and oath. besides, unbelief of god is the fountain of innumerable sins. as the black cloud is the source of many rain-drops, so dark unbelief is the parent of many crimes. it is a sin which should be condemned by every believer, should be struggled against, should if possible be subdued, and certainly should be the object of our deep repentance and abhorrence. _the one family._ the universe of god is one: heaven and earth are not so separate as unbelief has dreamed. as the lord hath but one family, written in one register, redeemed with one blood, quickened by one spirit, so this whole household abides in one habitation evermore. we who are in the body abide in the lower room, which is sometimes dark and cold, but bears sufficient marks that it is a room in god's house; for to the eye of our faith, it is often lit up with heavenly lustre, and we, even we, while we are yet here, are by blessed earnests made partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light. it is the same house, i say, but ours is the lower room, while our glorified brethren are up there in the upper story, where the sunlight streams in everlastingly, where no chilling winds or poisonous breath can ever reach. and, to a great extent, there is a likeness between the lower room and the upper room. as on earth we prepare for heaven, so the state of the saints on earth is heaven foreshadowed. in many respects the condition of the child of god on earth is a type of his condition in heaven; and what the character of the saints is above, that should be the character of the saints below. we may very safely take for our example those glorified spirits. we need not be afraid that we shall be led astray by imitating them, by learning their occupations, or by attempting to share their joys. surely the things in heaven are patterns of the things on earth, and as _they_ are before the throne so ought we to be. nay; so we shall be in proportion as we live up to our privileges, and receive the likeness and image of our lord jesus christ. _the spirit of praise._ "bless the lord, o my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name." wake up my _memory_, and find matter for the song. tell what god has done for me in days gone by. fly back, ye thoughts, to my childhood, sing of cradle-mercies. review my youth and its early favors. sing of long-suffering grace which followed my wanderings, and bore with my rebellions. review before my eyes that gladsome hour when first i knew the lord, and tell over again the matchless story of his mercy. awake up my _judgment_, and give measure to the music. come forth my _understanding_, and weigh his lovingkindness in the balance. see if thou canst count the small dust of his mercies. see if thou canst estimate the unsearchable riches which god hath given thee in his unspeakable gift of christ jesus. recount his eternal love to thee. reckon up the treasures of that everlasting covenant which he made on thy behalf, and which was "ordered in all things and sure." sing aloud of that divine wisdom which contrived, of that love which planned, and of that grace which carried out the scheme of thy redemption. "bless the lord, o my soul!" for doth not all nature around me praise him? if _i_ were silent i should be an exception to the universe. doth not the thunder praise him as it rolls like drums in the march of the god of armies? do not the mountains praise him when the woods upon their summits wave in adoration? does not the lightning write his name in letters of fire upon the midnight darkness? hath not the whole earth a voice, and shall i, can i, be silent? "bless the lord, o my soul." _love to christ._ have you a friend at court--at heaven's court? is the lord jesus your friend? can you say that you love him, and has he ever revealed himself in the way of love to you? oh! to be able to say, "christ is my friend," is one of the sweetest things in the world. the love of christ casts not out the love of relatives, but it sanctifies our creature love, and makes it sweeter far. earthly love is sweet, but it must pass away; and what will you do if you have no wealth but the wealth which fadeth, and no love but the love which dies, when death shall come? oh, to have the love of christ! you can take that across the river of death with you; you can wear it as your jewel in heaven, and set it as a seal upon your hand; for his love is "strong as death, and mightier than the grave." _the first lesson._ the doorstep to the temple of wisdom is a knowledge of our own ignorance. he cannot learn aright who has not first been taught that he knows nothing. it is a good thing for a man to feel that he is only beginning to learn, and to be willing to submit his heart to the teachings of god's spirit, that he may be guided in everything by him. the prayer of the quickened soul is, "teach thou me." we become as little children when god begins to deal with us. _danger of prosperity._ high places, and god's praise, do seldom agree: a full cup is not easily carried without spilling: he that stands on a pinnacle needs a clear head and much grace. _idleness._ some temptations come to the industrious, but _all_ temptations attack the idle. idle christians are not tempted of the devil so much as they do tempt the devil to tempt them. idleness sets the door of the heart ajar, and asks satan to come in; but if we are occupied from morning till night, should satan get in, he must break through the door. under sovereign grace, and next to faith, there is no better shield against temptation than obedience to the precept, that ye be "not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the lord." _grace._ grace is always grace, but it never seems so gracious as when we see it brought to our unworthy selves. _obtaining promises._ god sometimes gives his people fresh promises "by faith," just before a trial is about to come upon them. it was so with elijah. god said to him, "go to the brook cherith; behold, i have commanded the ravens to feed thee there." this was at the beginning of the famine. there he abode, and god fulfilled the promise, for by faith elijah had obtained it. acting upon faith, still dependent upon god, he abides at cherith, and as the result of this faith, god gives him a fresh promise, "arise, get thee to zarephath--i have commanded a widow woman there to sustain thee." the faith which received the first promise, obtained the honor of a second. so with us. if we have had a little promise, and up till now have realized it; if we have lived upon it and made it the stay and support of our souls, surely god will give us another and a greater one. and so, from promise to promise speeding our way, we shall find the promises to be rounds of the ladder which jacob saw, the top whereof shall reach to heaven. doubt and be distrustful about the promise which you have, and you cannot expect god to increase his revelation to your soul. be afraid and unbelieving about that promise which was laid to your heart yesterday, and you shall not have a new one to-morrow. but act in simple faith upon what god has already given you, and you shall go from strength to strength, receiving grace upon grace, and promise upon promise. the spirit of god shall whisper into your soul some promise which shall come home with as much power as though an angel from heaven had spoken it to you, and you shall "through faith" obtain promises which before were beyond your reach. _sympathy._ sympathy is especially a _christian's_ duty. consider what the christian is, and you will say that if every other man were selfish, _he_ should be disinterested; if there were nowhere else a heart which had sympathy for the needy, there should be one found in every christian breast. the christian is a "king:" it becometh not a king to be meanly caring for himself. was alexander ever more royal than when, while his troops were suffering from thirst, he put aside a bowl full of the precious liquid, which a soldier offered him, and said it was not fitting for a king to drink while his subjects were thirsty; he had rather share their sorrow with them? o ye, whom god has made kings and princes, reign royally over your own selfishness, and act with the honorable liberality which becomes the seed royal of the universe. you are sent into the world to be saviours of others; but how shall you be so if you care only for yourselves? it is yours to be lights; and doth not a light consume itself while it scatters its rays into the thick darkness? is it not your office and privilege to have it said of you, as of your master--"he saved others, himself he cannot save?" "_endure hardness._" soldier of christ, thou wilt have to do hard battle. there is no bed of down for thee; there is no riding to heaven in a chariot: the rough way must be trodden; mountains must be climbed; rivers must be forded; dragons must be fought; giants must be slain; difficulties must be overcome; and great trials must be borne. it is not a smooth road to heaven; those who have gone but a very few paces therein, have found it to be rough and rugged. yet it is pleasant; it is the most delightful journey in all the world; not because it is easy in itself, it is only pleasant because of the company; because of the sweet promises on which we lean; because of our beloved who walks with us through all the rough and thorny brakes of this vast wilderness. christian soldiers, expect conflict: "think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you." as truly as thou art a child of god, thy saviour hath left thee for his legacy--"in the world ye shall have tribulation." yet remember that this "tribulation" is the way to "_enter the kingdom_;" therefore "endure hardness as a good soldier of jesus christ." _usefulness._ christ, my master, _goes about doing good_, and if you would walk with him, you must go about upon the same mission. _the church and the world._ christian men ought so to live that it were idle to speak of a comparison between them and the men of the world. it should not be a comparison, but a contrast. no scale of degrees should be possible: the believer should be a direct and manifest contradiction to the unregenerate. the life of a saint should be altogether above and out of the same list as the life of a sinner. we should compel our critics not to confess that moralists are good, and christians a little better; but while the world is darkness, we should manifestly be light; and while the world lieth in the wicked one, we should most evidently be of god, and overcome the temptations of that wicked one. wide as the poles asunder, are life and death, light and darkness, purity and sin. there should be as much difference between the worldling and the christian, as between hell and heaven, between destruction and eternal life. as we hope at last that there shall be a great gulf separating us from the doom of the impenitent, there should be here a deep and wide gulf between us and the ungodly. the purity of our character should be such, that men must take knowledge of us that we are of another and superior race. if we were what we profess to be, there would be no difficulty in detecting the christian from the worldling. but, alas! the church is so much adulterated, that we have to abate our glorying, and cannot exalt our character as we would. o, for the time when "our conversation shall be in heaven," and the ignoble life of the worldly man shall be rebuked by our christ-like character! god grant us more and more to be clearly a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that we may show forth the praises of him who has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light. _the fight of faith._ like the spartans, every christian is born a warrior. it is his destiny to be assaulted; it is his duty to attack. part of his life will be occupied with defensive warfare. he will have to defend earnestly the faith once delivered to the saints; he will have to resist the devil; he will have to stand against all his wiles; and having done all, still to stand. he will, however, be but a sorry christian if he acteth only on the defensive; he must be one who goes against his foes. he must be able to say with david, "i come against thee in the name of the lord of hosts, the god of the armies of israel whom thou hast defied." he must wrestle not with flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers. he must have weapons for his warfare--not carnal--but "mighty through god to the pulling down of strongholds." he must not be content to live in the stronghold well-guarded, but he must go forth to attack the castles of the enemy, and to drive the canaanite out of the land. but there are many ways in which the christian may, to a great degree, forget his martial character. and, alas! there are not a few who, if they be christians at all, certainly know but very little of that daily warfare to which the captain of our salvation calleth his disciples. they have a soft religion; a religion which shuns opposition; a reed-like religion, which bows before every blast, unlike that cedar of godliness which standeth aloft in the midst of the storm, and claps its boughs in the hurricane for very joy of triumph, though the earth be all in arms abroad. such men lack the faith which shares the glory. though saved, yet their names shall not be found written among the mighty men who, for our great commander's sake, are willing to suffer the loss of all things, and to go forth without the camp bearing his reproach. o, let us never be contented with such inglorious ease, but earnestly and manfully fight the lord's battles. is it a little thing for a follower of christ to be losing the immortal honor of serving the lord? what will not men do to win fame? and shall we, when it lies at our doors, turn idly aside and cast our glory to the ground? let us be up and doing, for it is no light thing to be losing the honor of a faithful servant of christ. _life's great object._ as christians, we ought ever to be distinguished from the world _in the great object of our life_. as for worldly men, some of them are seeking wealth, others of them fame; some seek after comfort, others after pleasure. subordinately you may seek after any of these, but your main and principal motive as a christian should always be to live for christ. to live for glory? yes, but for his glory. to live for comfort? yes, but be all your consolation in him. to live for pleasure? yes, but when you are merry, sing psalms, and make melody in your hearts to the lord. to live for wealth? yes, but to be rich in faith. you may lay up treasure, but lay it up in heaven, "where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal." you can make the most common calling become really sacred by dedicating your daily life wholly to the service of jesus, taking as your motto, "_for me to live is christ_." there is such a thing as living thus a consecrated life; and if any deny its possibility let them stand self-convicted, because they obey not that precept: "whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of god." _love's circumference._ the christian's sympathy should ever be of the widest character, because he serves a god of infinite love. when the precious stone of love is thrown by grace into the crystal pool of a renewed heart, it stirs the transparent life-floods into ever-widening circles of sympathy: the first ring has no very wide circumference--we love our household; for he who careth not for his own household is worse than a heathen man. but mark the next concentric ring--we love the household of faith: "we know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." look once more, for the ever-widening ring has reached the very limit of the lake, and included all in its area, for "supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks are to be made for all men." a follower of jesus means a friend of man. a christian is a philanthropist by profession, and generous by force of grace; wide as the reign of sorrow is the stretch of his love, and where he cannot help he pities still. _the way to heaven._ there is no way to heaven, whatever thy hopes may be, but through christ: there is no way to the gates of pearl but through the bleeding side of jesus. these are the gates of paradise--these bleeding wounds. if thou wouldst find thy way to god's bright throne, find first thy way to jesus' cross; if thou wouldst know the way to happiness, tread in that path of misery which jesus trod. what! attempt another way? art thou mad enough to think that thou canst rend the posts, and bars, and gates of heaven, from their perpetual places, and force thy way by thy created strength? or dost thou think to purchase with thy riches and thy gold a foothold in paradise? fool! what is thy gold, where streets are made of it, and where the gates are solid pearl?--where the foundations are of jasper, and the walls whereof are precious gems? and dost thou think to get there by thy merits? ah! by pride fell the angels, and by thy pride thou fallest. heaven is not for such as thou art. but dost thou say, "i will leave my wealth, after i have gone, to charities; i will build a hospital, or feed the poor?" then let _men_ pay thee: thou hast wrought for them, let them pay the debt; let them rear the stony pillar, and set thine effigy upon the top thereof. if thou hast wrought for thy country, let thy country pay thee what they owe thee. but _god_--what does he owe to thee? thou hast forgotten him; thou hast despised his son; thou hast rejected his gospel. be thou warrior, statesman, patriot--let men pay thee; god owes thee nothing; and all thou canst do, if thou comest not in the _right way through jesus christ_, who lived and died, and is alive forevermore, and hath the keys of heaven at his girdle, will not bribe him to admit thee to his palace. _religion exemplified._ i would not give much for your religion unless it can be _seen_. lamps do not talk, but they do shine: a lighthouse sounds no drum, it beats no gong; and yet, far over the waters its friendly spark is visible to the mariner. so let your actions shine out your religion. let the main sermon of your life be illustrated by all your conduct, and it shall not fail to be illustrious. _the right estimate._ the higher a man is in grace, the lower he will be in his own esteem. "_vessels of mercy._" god's chosen ones are spoken of as "vessels of mercy." now we know that a vessel is _nothing but a receiver_. a "vessel" is not a fountain, but only a container and holder of that which is poured out into it. such are the redeemed of god; they are not fountains by nature, out of whom there springeth up anything which is good; they are simply receivers. at one time they are full of themselves, but grace empties them, and then as empty vessels they are set in the way of god's goodness; god fills them to the brim with his lovingkindness, and so they are proved to be the vessels of his mercy. they may as "vessels" afterwards give out to others, but they can only give out what god has put in them; they may work out their own salvation with fear and trembling, but they cannot work it out unless god worketh in them both to will and to do of his good pleasure. they may run over with gratitude, but it is only because god has filled them with grace; they may stream forth with holiness, but it is only because the lord keeps the supply overflowing. they are receivers, and receivers only. _christian diligence._ we find in the scripture that most of the great appearances which were made to eminent saints were made when they were busy. moses kept his father's flock when he saw the burning bush; joshua is going round about the city of jericho when he meets the angel of the lord; jacob is in prayer, and the angel of god appears to him; gideon is threshing, and elisha is ploughing, when the lord calls them; matthew is at the receipt of custom, when he is bidden to follow jesus; and james and john are fishing. the almighty lover of the souls of men is not wont to manifest himself to idle persons. he who is slothful and inactive, cannot expect to have the sweet company of his saviour. "_comfort ye my people._" god never gives his children a duty to do without giving them _the means to do it_; and when he tells us to "comfort" his people, we may be certain that there are means whereby they may be comforted. child of god! art thou at a loss for a topic to comfort the aching heart? tell of the ancient things of former days; whisper in the mourner's ear electing grace, and redeeming mercy, and divine love. when thou findest a troubled one, tell him of the covenant, in all things ordered well; tell him what the lord hath done in former days, how he cut rahab, and wounded the dragon; tell him the wondrous story of god's dealings with his people; tell him that god, who divided the red sea, can make a highway for his people through the deep waters of affliction--that he who appeared in the burning bush, which was not consumed, will support him in the furnace of tribulation; tell him of the marvellous things which god has wrought for his chosen people: surely there is enough there to comfort him; tell him that god watcheth the furnace as the goldsmith the refining-pot. if that does not suffice, tell him of his present mercies; tell him that he has much left, though much is gone; tell him there is "now no condemnation to them which are in christ jesus;" tell him that now he is accepted in the beloved; tell him that he is now adopted, and that his standing is safe; tell him that jesus is above, pleading his cause; tell him that though earth's pillars shake, god is a refuge for us; tell the mourner that the everlasting god faileth not, neither is weary. but if this is not enough, tell him of the future; whisper to him that there is a heaven with pearly gates, and golden streets; tell him that "a few more rolling suns at most, will land him on fair canaan's coast," and therefore he may well bear his sorrows; tell him that christ is coming, and that his sign is in the heavens, his advent is near, he will soon appear to judge the earth with equity, and his people in righteousness. and if that suffice not, tell him all about that saviour who lived and died; take him to calvary; picture to him the bleeding hands, and side, and feet; tell him of the thorn-crowned king of grief; tell him of the mighty monarch of woe and blood, who wore the scarlet of mockery which was yet the purple of the empire of grief; tell him that he himself bore our sins in his own body on the tree. thus, by god's blessing, thou shalt accomplish thy mission, and "comfort" one of his people. "comfort ye my people, saith your god." _self._ faith will never be weak if _self_ be weak, but when self is strong, faith cannot be strong; for "self" is very much like what the gardener calls the "sucker," at the bottom of the tree, which never bears fruit, but only draws away the nourishment from the tree itself. now, self is that sucker which diverts the nourishment from faith, and you must cut it up, or else your faith will always be "little faith," and you will have difficulty in maintaining any comfort in your soul. _strength through joy._ it is when the mind is happy that it can be laborious. "the joy of the lord is your strength." _the refiner's fire._ there is not an ingot of silver in heaven's treasury, which has not been in the furnace on earth, and been purified seven times; there is not a gem which the divine jeweller has not exposed to every sort of test; there is not an atom of gold in the redeemer's crown which has not been molten among the hottest coals, so as to rid it of its alloy. it is universal to every child of god. if you are a servant of the lord, you must be tried "as gold is tried." _heart-learning._ we can learn nothing of the gospel except by feeling its truths. there are some sciences that may be learned by the head, but the science of christ crucified can only be learned by the heart. _the hope of heaven._ believers are not only to be with christ, and to behold his glory, but they are to be like christ, and to be glorified with him. is he glorious? so shall they be. is he enthroned? so shall they be. does he wear a crown? so shall they. is he a priest? so shall they be kings to share his dominion, and priests to offer acceptable sacrifices forever. mark, that in all christ has, believers participate. they are to reign with christ, and have a portion of his joy; to be honored with him, to be accepted in him. this is heaven indeed! if you have this hope, i beseech you hold it fast, live on it, rejoice in it. "a hope so much divine, may trials well endure; may purge your soul from sense and sin, as christ the lord is pure." live near your master now, so shall your evidences be bright; and when you come to cross the flood, you shall see him face to face, and what _that is_ only they can tell who enjoy it every hour. but if you have _not_ this bright hope, how is it that you can live content? you are going through a dark world to a darker eternity. i beseech you stop and pause. consider for a moment whether it is worth while to lose heaven for this poor earth. what! pawn eternal glories for the pitiful pence of a few moments of the world's enjoyments? no, stop, i beseech you; weigh the bargain ere you accept it. what shall it profit you to gain the whole world and lose your soul? what wailing and gnashing of teeth shall there be over the carelessness or misadventure by which men lose _such a heaven as this_? _rejoice always._ whenever a christian man yields to a mournful, desponding spirit, under his trials; when he does not seek grace from god to battle manfully and cheerfully with trouble; when he does not ask his heavenly father to give him strength and consolation whereby he may be enabled to rejoice in the lord at _all_ times, he does dishonor to the high, and mighty, and noble principles of christianity, which are fitted to bear a man up, and make him happy even in times of the deepest affliction. it is the boast of the gospel that it lifts the heart above trouble; it is one of the glories of our religion that it makes us say, "although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine, the labor of the olive shall fail, and the field shall yield no meat, _yet will i rejoice in the lord_, i will joy in the god of my salvation." _religion a present concern._ religion must be a thing of the present, because the _present has such intimate connections with the future_. we are told in scripture that this life is a seed-time, and the future is the harvest, "he that soweth to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; he that soweth to the spirit, shall of the spirit reap life everlasting." as the seed generates the plant, even so doth this present life generate the eternal future. heaven and hell are, after all, but the developments of our present character, for is it not written, "he that is holy, let him be holy still; he that is unjust, let him be unjust still?" do we not know that in the heart of every sin condemnation slumbers? is it not a fearful truth that the germ of everlasting torment sleeps in every vile wish, every unholy thought, every unclean act, so that hell is but a great breaking out of slumbering lava, which had been so quiet, that while the mountain was covered with fair verdure, even to its summit, death comes and bids that lava rise; and down the steeps of manhood's eternal existence, the fiery lava of eternal misery doth pour itself? yet it was there before, for sin is hell, and rebellion against god is the prelude of misery. so is it with heaven; i know that heaven is a reward, not of debt but of grace; but still the christian has that within him which forestalls for him a heaven. what did christ say? "i _give_ unto my sheep eternal life." he did not say, "_i will give_," but "_i do give_." as soon as they believe in me, i give them eternal life. "he that believeth on him that sent me hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation." the christian hath within him the seed-beds of a paradise; in due time the light which is sown for the righteous, and the gladness which is sown for the upright in heart, shall spring up, and they shall reap the harvest. is it not plain, then, that religion is a thing which we must have here? is it not prominently revealed that religion is important for the present? for if this life be the seed-time of the future, how can i expect to reap in another world other harvests than i have been sowing here? how can i trust that i shall be saved then, unless i am saved now? how can i have hope that heaven shall be my eternal inheritance, unless the earnest be begun in my own soul on earth? _trouble lightened_. i am persuaded that if we looked more to jesus, our troubles would not appear either so great or so grievous. in the darkest night of trial, looking to christ will clear the ebon sky. when the darkness seems thick, like that of egypt, "darkness that might be felt," even then, like a bright lightning flash, as vivid, but not so transient, will a look to jesus prove. one glimpse of him may well suffice for all our toils while on the road. looking to him will illuminate the most dreary way. cheered by his voice, nerved by his strength, we are prepared to do and to suffer, even as he did, unto the end. o, weary and troubled christians, "look unto him, and be lightened!" _the gospel requirement_. the gospel is not a scheme of giving _to_ god, but of receiving _from_ god. it is taking of his fulness, drinking out of his "wells of salvation," receiving from his storehouse. sinner! remember all that god asks of thee, in order to thy salvation, is, that thou wouldst be a _receiver_, and this he gives thee, even the power to receive. he asks thee not to do anything, but to hold out thine empty hand, and take all thou wantest. he does not bid thee store thy granaries and become rich, but he bids thee simply confess thy poverty, and open the doors of thine empty chambers, that he may pour thee out a blessing such as thou shalt scarcely find room to contain. hast thou learnt this truth? hast thou come to live as a receiver at the hand of god? hast thou stood at mercy's gate, humbly seeking salvation? for, if thou hast not--if thou hast never yet been willing to take the riches of grace from god instead of giving to him of thine own worthless doings--if thou art not willing to be a recipient of his gratuitous goodness, thou art a total stranger to everything like the gospel of christ. "_ye are not your own._" if you are a child of god, you belong wholly and entirely to christ. yet are there not many who seem to imagine that if they save a corner in their souls for their religion, all will be well? satan may stalk across the broad acres of their judgment and their understanding, and he may reign over their thoughts and their imaginations; but if in some quiet nook there be preserved the appearance of religion, all will be right. oh! be not deceived in this; christ never went halves in a man yet. he will have the whole of you, or he will have none of you. he will be lord paramount, master supreme, absolute monarch, or else he will have nothing to do with you. you may serve satan, if you will, but when you serve him, you shall not serve christ too. if you are not wholly given up to god--if, in the intent and purpose of your souls, every thought, and wish, and power, and talent, and possession be not devoted and consecrated to christ, you have no reason to believe that you have been redeemed by his precious blood. in his people, whom he has purchased for his own, he _will_ reign without a rival. christ will not be part-proprietor of any man. "_continue in prayer._" be much in prayer. god's plants grow faster in the warm atmosphere of the closet--it is a forcing-place for spiritual vegetation. he who would grow strong must often kneel at the throne of grace. of all training practice for spiritual battles, _knee practice_ is the most healthful and strengthening. _the holy saviour._ there is an expression used by the apostle paul respecting the lord jesus, which is very beautiful and significant--"who _knew_ no sin." it does not merely say _did_ none, but _knew_ none. sin was no acquaintance of his; he was acquainted with grief, but no acquaintance of sin. he had to walk in the midst of its most frequented haunts, but did not know it. not that he was ignorant of its nature, or unaware of its penalty, but he did not _know_ it; he was a stranger to it; he never by word, by nod, or by smile, gave it the faintest recognition. of course he knew what sin was, for he was very god, but with sin he had no communion, no fellowship, no brotherhood. he was a perfect stranger in the presence of sin; he was a foreigner; he was not an inhabitant of that land where sin is acknowledged. he passed through the wilderness of suffering, but into the wilderness of sin he could never go. "he _knew_ no sin:" mark that expression and treasure it up; and when you are thinking of your substitute, and behold him bleeding upon the cross, think that you see written in those lines of blood, "he knew no sin." mingled with the redness of his blood--that rose of sharon--behold the purity of his nature--the lily of the valley--"he knew no sin." _christ our example_. _remember the blessed example of our lord and saviour jesus christ_. this surely will teach you not to live to yourself! "for ye know the grace of our lord jesus christ, that, though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich." his heart is made of tenderness, his bowels melt with love. in all our afflictions he is afflicted. since the day when he became flesh of our flesh, he hath never hidden himself from our sufferings. our glorious head is moved with all the sorrows which distress the members. crowned though he now is, he forgets not the thorns which once he wore; amid the splendors of his regal state in paradise, he is not unmindful of his children here below. still is he persecuted when saul persecutes the saints; still are his brethren as the apple of his eye, and very near his heart. if ye can find in christ a grain of selfishness, consecrate yourselves unto your lusts, and let mammon be your god. if ye can find in christ a solitary atom of hardness of heart and callousness of spirit, then justify yourselves, ye whose hearts are as stone to the wailing of the desolate. but if ye profess to be followers of the man of nazareth, be ye full of compassion; he feedeth the hungry lest they be faint by the way; he bindeth up the broken in heart and healeth all their wounds; he heareth the cry of the needy and ariseth to their help. if ye are his disciples, go and do likewise. _god's government._ there are still people to be found foolish enough to believe that events occur at hap-hazard, without divine predestination, and different calamities transpire without the overruling hand, or the direct agency of god. alas! for us, if chance had aught to do with events of our life. we should be like poor mariners, put out to sea in an unsafe vessel, without a chart and without a helm; we should know nothing of the port to which we might ultimately come; we should only feel that we were now the sport of the winds, the captives of the tempest, and might soon be the victims of the all-devouring deep. alas! poor orphans were we all, if we were indebted for food and clothing, for present comfort and future prospects, to nothing but chance. no father's care to watch over us, but left to the fickleness and fallibility of mortal things! what were all that we see about us, but a great sand-storm in the midst of a desert, blinding our eyes, preventing us from ever hoping to see the end through the darkness of the beginning? we should be pilgrims in a pathless waste, where there were no roads to direct us--travellers who might be overturned and overwhelmed at any moment, and our bleached bones left the victims of the tempest, unknown, or forgotten of all. thank god, it is not so with us. we believe that everything which happens to us is ordered by the wise and tender will of him who is our father and our friend; we see order in the midst of confusion; we see purposes accomplished where others discern nothing but void and vacancy. we believe that "he hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet." _the secret of strength._ art thou proud, believer, because thou hast been profitable to the church, and done some little service to thy times? who maketh thee to differ, and what hast thou which thou hast not received? hast thou shed a little light upon the darkness? ah! who lit thy candle--and who is it who keeps thee still shining, and prevents thee from being extinguished? hast thou overcome temptation? hang not up thy banner; do not decorate thine own bosom with the glory; for who made thee strong in the battle? who made thy sword sharp, and nerved thine arm to strike the foe? remember, thou hast done nothing whatever of thyself. if thou be this day a vessel unto honor, decorated and gilded--if now thou art a precious vase, filled with the sweetest perfume, yet thou didst not make thyself so. thou art the clay, but _who_ is the potter? if thou be a vessel unto honor, yet not a vessel unto thine own honor, but a vessel unto the honor of him who made thee. if thou standest among thy fellow-men as the angels stand above the fallen spirits--a chosen one, distinguished from them--yet remember, it was not any goodness in thyself which made thee to be chosen; nor has it been any of thine own efforts, or thine own power, which lifted thee out of the miry clay, set thy feet on the rock, and established thy goings. off with the crown from thy proud head, and lay down thine honors at the feet of him who gave them to thee. with cherubim and seraphim veil thy face, and cry, "not unto us, not unto us, but unto his name be all the glory forever and ever." and when thou art thus bowed down with humility, be thou prepared to learn this other lesson--_never depend on thyself again_. if thou hast aught to do, go not forth to do it leaning on an arm of flesh. first bow thy knee, and ask power of him who makes thee strong, and then thou shalt come back from thy labor rejoicing. but if thou goest in thine own strength, thou shalt break thy ploughshare on the rock; thou shalt sow thy seed by the side of the salt sea upon the barren sand, and thou shalt look upon the naked acres in years to come, and they shall not yield thee so much as a single blade to make glad thine heart. "trust ye in the lord forever: for in the lord jehovah is everlasting strength." that strength is not available to you so long as you repose in any strength of your own. he will help you if you confess your weakness; but if you are strong in yourself, he will take way his own power from you, and you will stumble and fall. learn, then, the grace of depending daily upon god, so shalt thou be clothed with becoming humility. _nature and grace._ you will never perceive god in nature, until you have learned to see god in grace. we have heard a great deal about going up from nature to nature's god. impossible! a man might as well attempt to go from the top of the alps to heaven. there is still a great gulf between nature and god to the natural mind. you must first of all perceive god incarnate in the person of christ, before you will perceive god omnipotent in the creation which he has made. you have heard a great deal about men delighting to worship in the forest glades, who disdain to frequent the sanctuary of the saints. ay; but there was little truth in it. there is often great sound where there is much emptiness; and you will frequently find that those men who talk most of this natural worship, are those who do not worship god at all. god's works are too gross a medium to allow the light. rugged is the path and dark the atmosphere, if we go by way of the creatures to find out the creator to perfection. but when i see christ, i see god's new and living way between my soul and my god, most clear and pleasant. i come to my god at once, and finding him in christ, i find him everywhere else besides. _look to christ._ would you be free from doubts? would you rejoice in the lord with faith unmoved, and confidence unshaken? then _look to jesus_! certain i am that if we lived more _with_ jesus, were more _like_ jesus, and trusted more _to_ jesus, doubts and fears would be very scarce and rare things. _love in chastening._ god's people are often chastened, and the lord's hand lieth heavy upon them; yet there is paternal goodness in their chastenings, and infinite lovingkindness in their tribulations. did you ever hear this parable? there was a certain shepherd who had a sheep which he desired to lead into another and better field; he called it, and it would not come; he led it, and it would not follow; he drove it, but it would only follow its own devices. at last he thought within himself, "i will do this." the sheep had a little lamb by its side, and the shepherd took the lamb up in his arms, and carried it away, and then the ewe came too. and so with you; god has been calling to _you_, and you did not come; christ said, "come," and you would not; he sent affliction, and you would not come; at length he took your child away, and you came forthwith; you followed the saviour then. you see it was loving work on the shepherd's part. he did but take the lamb to save the sheep, and the saviour but took your child to heaven that he might bring _you_ there also. oh, blessed afflictions, blessed losses, blessed deaths, which end in spiritual life! you know that if a man desires to gather a harvest from his field, he first ploughs it up. the field might complain, and say, "why these scars across my face? why this rough upturning?" because there can be no sowing till there has been ploughing; sharp ploughshares make furrows for good seed. or take yet another picture from nature: a man desireth to make of a rusty piece of iron, a bright sword which shall be serviceable to a great warrior. what doth he do? he putteth it into the fire, and melteth it; he taketh away all its dross, and removeth all its tin; then he fashioneth it with his hammer; he beateth it full sore upon the anvil; he anneals it in one fire after another, till at last it comes out a good blade which will not snap in the day of warfare. this is what god doeth with you--i pray you do not misread the book of god's providence; for if you read it aright it runs thus--"i will have mercy on this man, and therefore have i smitten him and wounded him. as many as i love i rebuke and chasten." come, therefore, let us return unto the lord, for he hath wounded and he will heal; he hath smitten and he will bind us up. _enduring the cross._ "for the joy that was set before him he endured the cross." what was the joy? oh, 'tis a thought must melt a rock, and make a heart of iron move, that the joy which was set before jesus, was principally the joy of saving us. i know it was the joy of fulfilling his father's will--of sitting down on his father's throne--of being made perfect through suffering; but still i know that this is the grand, great motive of the saviour enduring the cross--the joy of saving us. do you know what the joy is of doing good to others? if you do not, i pity you, for of all joys which god has left in this poor wilderness, this is one of the sweetest. do you know it? have you never felt that joy divine, when your gold has been given to the poor, and your silver has been dedicated to the lord, when you bestowed it upon the hungry--and you have gone aside, and said, "i feel it is a joy worth living for to feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, and to do good to my poor suffering fellow-creatures?" now, this is the joy which christ felt; it was the joy of feeding us with the bread of heaven; the joy of clothing poor, naked sinners in his own righteousness; the joy of finding a home for homeless souls, of delivering us from the prison of hell, and giving us the eternal enjoyments of heaven. see the greatness of his love which thus led him to endure the cross and despise the shame, that he might save sinners. truly christ's love "passeth knowledge!" christians! if christ endured all this for the joy of saving you, will _you_ be ashamed of bearing or suffering anything for christ? surely love to him who hath so loved us should make us willing to endure all things for his sake. do you feel that in following christ you must lose by it--lose honor, position, wealth? do you feel that in being a christian you incur ridicule and reproach? and will you turn aside because of these little things, when he would not turn aside, but endured the cross and despised the shame? no, by the grace of god let every christian say,-- "now for the love i bear his name, what was my gain i count my loss; my former pride i call my shame, and nail my glory to his cross." "for me to live is christ; to die is gain." living, i will be his; dying, i will be his. i will live to his honor, and serve him wholly. i will take up my cross, and follow him, rejoicing if i am counted worthy to suffer for his name's sake. _christian gravity._ when we make a profession of our faith in christ, we are not to drape our faces in gloom, but rather to light our hearts with a purer joy than we ever knew before; and yet we must put away all unseemly levity. "i said of laughter, it is mad." i said it, too, in the day of the gladness of my heart. the madman's frolics, the drunkard's boisterous mirth--these compare not with the serene pleasure of our princely expectations. walk as those who are looking for the coming of the son of man, hearing this voice in your ears, "what manner or person ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness?" _short-sightedness._ what short-sighted creatures we often are! we think we see the end when we are only viewing the beginning. we get our telescope out sometimes to look to the future, and we breathe on the glass with the hot breath of our anxiety, and then we think we see clouds and darkness before us. if we are in trouble, we see "every day new straits attend, and wonder where the scene will end." nay; we conclude that it must end in our destruction. we imagine "god hath forgotten to be gracious." we think "he hath in anger shut up the bowels of compassion." oh, this short-sightedness! when you and i ought to believe in god; when we ought to look at the heaven which awaiteth us, and the glory for which these light afflictions are preparing us; when we ought to be looking through the cloud to the eternal sun which never knows an eclipse; when we should be resting on the invisible arm of the immortal god, and triumphing in his love, we are mourning and distrusting. god forgive us for this, and enable _us_ henceforth to look not _at_ our troubles, but _above_ them, even to him who, with infinite wisdom and love, is guiding us, and has promised to bring us safely through. _steadfastness._ if you had more faith, you would be as happy in the furnace as on the mountain of enjoyment; you would be as glad in famine as in plenty; you would rejoice in the lord when the olive yielded no oil, as well as when the vat was bursting and overflowing its brim. if you had more confidence in god, you would have far less of tossings up and down; and if you had greater nearness to christ, you would have less vacillation. at times you can bid defiance to the rage of satan, boldly meet every attack, and resist every temptation; but too often you are fearful and irresolute, and ready to run away from the fight instead of making valiant resistance. but if you always remember him who endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, you might always be firm and steadfast. live near your master, and you shall not be thus changeful and uncertain. beware of being like a weathercock. seek of god, that his law may be written on your heart as if it were written in stone, and not as if it were written in sand. seek that his grace may come to you like a river, and not like a brook which fails. seek that you may keep your conversation always holy; that your course may be like the shining light which tarries not, but burns brighter and brighter until the fulness of the day. seek that the "god of all grace may establish, strengthen, settle you." "_be not high-minded, but fear._" while we most earnestly seek after the full assurance of faith, knowing it is our strength and our joy, let us at the same time remember that there is a _temptation_ connected with it. when thou hast gained this full assurance, believer, then be on thy watch-tower, for the next temptation will be, "soul, take thine ease; the work is done; thou _hast_ attained; now fold thine arms; sit thou still; all will end well; why needest thou too much to vex thyself?" take heed in those seasons when you have no doubts. "watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation." "let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." "i said, i shall never be moved. lord, by thy favor thou hast made my mountain to stand strong." and what next? "thou didst hide thy face, and i was troubled." bless god for full assurance; but, remember, nothing but careful walking can preserve it. full assurance is a priceless pearl; but when a man has a precious jewel, and he walks the streets, he ought to be much afraid of pickpockets. so, when the christian has full assurance, let him be sure that satan will try to rob him of it. let him be more circumspect in his walk, and more diligent in his watch than he was before. _evidence of the new life._ "if so be ye have tasted that the lord is gracious," it is _certain evidence of a divine change_; for men by nature find no delight in jesus. i do not inquire what your experience may have been, or may not have been; if christ be precious to you, there has been a work of grace in your heart; if you love him, if his presence be your joy, if his blood be your hope, if his glory be your object and aim, and if his person be the constant love of your soul, you could not have had this taste by nature, for you were dead; you could not have acquired this taste by learning, for this is a miracle which none but the god who is supreme over nature could have wrought in you. let every tried and troubled christian, who, nevertheless, does taste that the lord is good, take consolation from this. "the upright love thee." "_a few names even in sardis._" "thou hast a few names even in sardis, which have not defiled their garments." here we have special preservation. mark it carefully. "thou hast a few names." only a few; not so few as some think, but not so many as others imagine. a few compared with the mass of professors: a few compared even with the true children of god, for many of _them_ have defiled their garments. there were but a few, and those few were even in _sardis_. there is not a church on earth which is so corrupt but has "a few." take heart, christians; there are a few in sardis. do not be quite cast down. _some_ heroes have not turned their backs in the day of battle; _some_ mighty men still fight for the truth. but be careful, for, perhaps, you are not one of the "few." since there are but "a few," there ought to be great searchings of heart. let us look to _our_ garments, and see whether they be defiled. and since there are but "few," _be active_. the fewer the workmen to do the work, the greater reason is there that you should be active. "be instant in season, out of season." oh! if we had hundreds behind us, we might say, "let _them_ do the work;" but if we stand with only "a few," how should each of those few exert themselves! stir yourselves up, then, to the greatest activity, for verily there are but a few in sardis who have not defiled their garments. above all, _be prayerful_. put up your earnest cries to god that he would multiply the faithful, that he would increase the number of chosen ones who stand fast, and that he would purify the church. cry unto god that the day may come when the much fine gold shall be no longer dim; when the glory shall again return to zion. beg of god to remove the cloud, to take away "the darkness that may be felt." be doubly prayerful, for there are but few in sardis who have not defiled their garments. _increase of strength._ the troubles with which the plants of god's right-hand planting are assailed when they are saplings are very inconsiderable compared with those which blow about them when they become, like cedars, strongly rooted. when we grow strong, so sure as our strength increases, our sufferings, our trials, our labors, or our temptations, will be multiplied. god's power is never communicated to any man to be laid up in store. the food which is given to strengthen us, like the manna which was gathered by the israelites in the wilderness, is intended for immediate use. when the lord puts upon our feet the shoes of iron which he has promised us in the covenant, it is that we may walk in them--not that we may put them into our museum, and gaze upon them as curiosities. if he gives us a strong hand, it is because we have a strong foe to fight with. if he shall give us a great meal, as he did elijah of old, it is that we may go for a forty-day's journey in the strength of that meal. _the triumphant deliverance._ when the israelites went forth out of the land of egypt, they took with them the whole of their possessions, according to the word of the lord--"not a hoof shall be left behind." what does this teach us? why, not only that all god's _people_ shall be saved, but that all which god's people _ever had_ shall be restored. all which jacob ever took down to egypt shall be brought out again. have i lost a perfect righteousness in adam? i shall have a perfect righteousness in christ. have i lost happiness on earth in adam? god will give me much happiness here below in christ. have i lost heaven in adam? i shall have heaven in christ; for christ came not only to seek and to save the people who were lost, but _that which_ was lost; that is, all the inheritance, as well as the people; all their property. not the sheep merely, but the good pasture which the sheep had lost; not only the prodigal son, but all the prodigal son's estates. everything was brought out of egypt; not even joseph's bones were left behind. the egyptians could not say that they had a scrap of the israelites' property--not even one of their kneading troughs, nor one of their old garments. and when christ shall have conquered all things to himself, the christian shall not have lost one atom by the toils of egypt, but shall be able to say, "o _death_, where is thy sting? o _grave_, where is thy victory?" o _hell_, where is thy triumph? thou hast not a flag nor a pennon to show of thy victory; there is not a casque or a helmet left upon the battle-field; there is not a single trophy which thou mayst raise up in hell in scorn of christ. he hath not only delivered his people, but they have gone out with flying colors. stand and admire and love the lord, who thus delivers all his people. "great are thy works, o lord, and marvellous are thy doings; and that my soul knoweth right well." _a complete saviour._ it would be inconsistent with the character of him "by whom are all things," if he had sent an incomplete saviour; that is, if he had left us to do part ourselves, and for christ to do the rest. look at the sun. god wills for the sun to light the earth: doth he ask the earth's darkness to contribute to the light? doth he question the night, and ask whether it has not in its sombre shades something which it may contribute to the brightness of noon? no; up rises the sun in the morning, like a giant to run his race, and the earth is made bright. and shall god turn to the dark sinner, and ask him whether there is anything in him which may contribute to eternal light? no; jesus rises as the sun of righteousness, with healing beneath his wings, and darkness is, at his coming, light. he alone is "the light of the world;" his own arm brought salvation; he asks no help from man, but giveth all and doeth all of his own rich grace, and is a complete and perfect saviour. _home-mercies._ when we realize that all our daily mercies come to us as the gifts of our father in heaven, it makes them doubly precious to us. there is nothing which tastes as sweet to the school-boy as that which comes from home. so with the christian. all his mercies are sweeter because they are home-mercies--they come "from above;" the land in which he lives is not like the land of egypt, fed by a river; but it "drinketh water of the rain or heaven." happy the lot of that man who thus receives everything as coming from god, and thanks his father for it all! it makes anything sweet, when he knows it comes from heaven. this thought, also, has a tendency to keep us from an overweening love of the world. the spies went to eshcol, and fetched thence an immense cluster of the grapes which grew there; but you do not find that the people said, "the fruits we have received from the land of promise, make us contented to stay in the wilderness." no; they saw that the grapes came from canaan, and thereupon they said, "let us go on and possess the land." and so, when we get rich mercies, if we think they come from the natural soil of this earth alone, we might well feel a wish to stay here. but if we know that they come from a foreign clime, we are naturally anxious to go "where our dear lord his vineyard keeps, and all the clusters grow." christian, rejoice then in the thought that all thou hast cometh from above; thy daily bread cometh not so much from thine industry as from thy heavenly father's care; thou seest stamped upon every mercy heaven's own inscription, and every blessing comes down to thee perfumed with the ointment, and the spikenard, and the myrrh of the ivory palaces, whence god dispenses his bounties. "_grace doth much more abound._" there has never been a period in this world's history when it was wholly given up to sin. god has always had his servants on earth; at times they may have been hidden by fifties in the caves, but they have never been utterly cut off. grace may be low; the stream might be very shallow, but it has never been wholly dry. the clouds have never been so universal as to hide the day. but the time is fast approaching when grace shall extend all over our world, and "the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the lord, as the waters cover the sea." "grace doth _much more_ abound;" and whatever possessions the world has lost by sin, it has gained _far more_ by grace. it is true we have been expelled from a garden of delights, where peace, love, and happiness found a glorious habitation, but we have through jesus a fairer inheritance. the plains of heaven exceed the fields of paradise in the ever-new delights which they afford, while the tree of life, and the river from the throne, render the inhabitants of the celestial regions more than imparadised. it is true that we have become subject to death by sin, yet has not grace revealed an immortality for the sake of which we are glad to die? life lost in adam is more than restored in christ. our original robes were rent asunder by adam, but jesus has clothed us with a divine righteousness, far exceeding in value even the spotless robes of created innocence. we mourn our low and miserable condition through sin, but we rejoice at the thought, that we are now more secure than before we fell, we are brought into closer alliance with jesus than our creature standing could ever boast. o jesus! thou hast won us an inheritance more wide than adam ever lost; thou hast filled our coffer with greater riches than our sin has ever lavished; thou hast loaded us with honors, and endowed us with privileges far more excellent than our natural birthright could have procured us. truly, truly, "grace doth much more abound." _unsubmissive prayers._ when we look at our prayers, we have much reason to deplore the _unsubmissive spirit_ which too often pervades them. how often have we in our prayers not simply wrestled with god for a blessing--for that was allowable--but we have imperiously demanded it! we have not said, "deny this to me, o my god, if so thou pleasest;" we have not been ready to say, as the redeemer did, "nevertheless, not as i will, but as thou wilt;" but we have asked after the blind inclination of our ignorance, as if we could brook no denial from the omniscient counsel of his will. forgetful of a humble deference to our lord's superior wisdom and grace, we have asked and declared that we would not be content unless we had that particular desire upon which our hearts were set. now, whenever we come to god, and ask for anything which we consider a real good, we have a right to plead earnestly; but we err when we go beyond the bounds of earnestness, and come to _demand_. it is ours to ask for a blessing, but not to define what the blessing shall be. it is ours to place our head beneath the mighty hands of divine benediction, but it is not ours to uplift the hands, as joseph did those of jacob, and say, "not so, my father." we must be content if he gives the blessing cross-handed; quite as content that he should put his left hand on our head as the right. we must not intrude into god's almonry, "it is the lord, let him do as seemeth him good." prayer was never meant to be a fetter upon the sovereignty of god. we must always subjoin at the bottom of the prayer this heavenly postscript, "father, deny this if it be most for thy glory." christ will have nothing to do with dictatorial prayers. "_more than conquerors._" the christian is to be a conqueror at last. do you think that we are forever to be the drudges and the slaves of sin, sighing for freedom, and yet never able to escape from its bondage? no! soon the chains which confine me shall be broken, the doors of my prison shall be opened, and i shall mount to the glorious city, the abode of holiness, where i shall be entirely freed from sin. we who love the lord are not to sojourn in mesech for aye. the dust may defile our robes now, but the day is coming when we shall rise and shake ourselves from the dust, and put on our beautiful garments. it is true we are now like israel in canaan. canaan is full of enemies; but the canaanites shall and must be driven out, and the whole land from dan to beersheba shall be the lord's. christians, rejoice! you are soon to be perfect, soon to be free from sin, without one wrong inclination, one evil desire. you are soon to be as pure as the angels in light; nay, more, with your master's garments on, you are to be "holy as the holy one." can you think of that? is it not the very sum of heaven, the rapture of bliss, the sonnet of the hill-tops of glory--that you are to be perfect? no temptation can reach you, nor if the temptation could reach you would you be hurt by it; for there will be nothing in you which could in any way foster sin. it would be as when a spark falls upon an ocean; your holiness would quench it in a moment. yes, washed in the blood of jesus, you are soon to walk the golden streets, white-robed and white-hearted too. o, rejoice in the immediate prospect, and let it nerve you for the present conflict. _christian gladness._ eminent as david was for his piety, he was equally eminent for the joyfulness and gladness of his heart. it is often thought by worldly people, that the contemplation of divine things has a tendency to depress the spirits. now, there is no greater mistake. no man is so happy, but he would be happier still if he had religion. the man who has a fulness of earthly pleasure, would not lose any part of his happiness, had he the grace of god in his heart; rather that joy would add sweetness to all his prosperity; it would strain off many of the bitter dregs from his cup, and show him how to extract more honey from the honeycomb. godliness can make the most melancholy joyful, while it can make the joyous ones more joyful still, lighting up the face with a heavenly gladness, making the eyes sparkle with tenfold more brilliance; and happy as the worldly man may be, he shall find that there is sweeter nectar than he has ever drunk before, if he comes to the fountain of atoning mercy; if he knows that his name is registered in the book of everlasting life. temporal mercies will then have the charm of redemption to enhance them. they will be no longer to him as shadowy phantoms which dance for a transient hour in the sunbeam. he will account them more precious because they are given to him, as it were, in some codicils of the divine testament, which hath promise of the life which now is, as well as of that which is to come. while goodness and mercy follow him all the days of his life, he will be able to stretch forth his grateful anticipations to the future when he shall dwell in the house of the lord forever, and to say with the psalmist, "thou hast made me most blessed forever: thou hast made me exceeding glad with thy countenance." _the condescension of christ._ when the saviour appeared among men, it was not as one lifted up from the ranks to procure station for himself, but as one who descended from the heavens to convey blessings to the people. the ignorant and the illiterate find in him their best friend. he is no stern law-giver, who, wrapped up in his own integrity, looks upon the transgressor with the eye of justice; neither is he simply the bold enunciator of penalty and punishment, nor the pitiless denouncer of crime and iniquity. he is the gentle lover of our souls; the good shepherd coming forth, not so much to slay the wolf, as to save the sheep. as the nurse tenderly watches over her child, so he watches for the souls of men; and like as a father pitieth his children, so does jesus pity poor sinners. it is not so much drawing sinners up to him, as coming down to them; not standing on the mountain-top and bidding them ascend, but coming down from the mountain, and mingling in social intercourse with them; coming down from the high pastures after his sheep in the glens, and in the ravines, that he may lay hold of them, lift them on his mighty shoulders, and bear them up to the place where he shall fold them in purity, bless them with all grace, and preserve them unto future glory. _all of grace._ god's people, after they are called by grace, are preserved in christ jesus; they are "kept by the power of god through faith unto salvation;" they are not suffered to sin away their eternal inheritance, but as temptations arise, they have strength given with which to encounter them; and as sin defiles them, they are washed afresh, and again cleansed. but mark, the reason why god keeps his people, is the same as that which made them his people--his own free, sovereign grace. if you have been delivered in the hour of temptation, pause and remember that you were not delivered for your own sake. there was nothing in you which deserved the deliverance. if you have been fed and supplied in your hour of need, it is not because you have been a faithful servant of god, or because you have been a prayerful christian; it is simply and only because of god's mercy. he is not moved to anything he does for you by anything which you do for him; his motive for blessing you lies wholly and entirely in the depths of his own bosom. blessed be god, his people shall be kept. "nor death nor hell shall e'er remove his favorites from his breast; in the dear bosom of his love they must forever rest." but why? because they are holy? because they are sanctified? because they serve god with good works? no, but because he, in his sovereign grace, has loved them, does love them, and will love them to the end. thus, salvation from first to last is all of grace. then how _humble_ a christian ought to be! we have nothing whatever to do with our salvation; god has done it all. it is mercy undeserved which we have received. it is his boundless, fathomless love which has led him to save us; and it is the same love and mercy which upholds us now. to him be glory! "_this man receiveth sinners._" "this man receiveth sinners." poor sinsick sinner, what a sweet word this is for thee! respond, respond to it, and say, "surely, then, he will not reject me." let me encourage thee to come to my master, that thou mightest receive his great atonement, and be clothed with all his righteousness. mark: those whom i address, are the _bona fide_, real, actual sinners; not those who only _say_ they are sinners with a general confession, but those who _feel_ their lost, ruined, hopeless condition. all these are frankly and freely invited to come to jesus christ, and to be saved by him. come, poor sinner, come. come, because he has said he will receive you. i know thy fears; i know thou sayest in thy heart, "he will reject me. if i present my prayer, he will not hear me; if i cry unto him, yet per-adventure, the heavens will be as brass; i have been so great a sinner, that he will never take me into his house to dwell with him." poor sinner! say not so; _he_ hath published the decree. is not this enough? he has said, "him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out." dost thou not venture on that promise? wilt thou not go to sea in a ship as stanch as this. _he hath said it_? it has been often the only comfort of the saints; on this they have lived, on this they have died. _he hath said it._ what! dost thou think christ would tell thee he will receive thee, and yet not do so? would he say, "come ye to the supper," and yet shut the door upon you? no; if he has said he will cast out none that come to him, rest assured he cannot, he will not cast you out. come, then, try his love on this ground, that he has said it. come, and fear not, because remember, if thou feelest thyself to be a sinner, that feeling is god's gift; and therefore thou mayst very safely come to one who has already done so much to draw thee. if thou feelest thy need of a saviour, christ made thee feel it; if thou hast a wish to come after christ, christ gave thee that wish; if thou hast any desire after god, god gave thee that desire; if thou canst sigh after christ, christ made thee sigh; if thou canst weep after christ, christ made thee weep. ay, if thou canst only wish for him with the strong wish of one who fears he never can find, yet hopes he may--if thou canst but hope for him, he has given thee that hope. and o, wilt not thou come to him? thou hast some of the king's bounties about thee now; come and plead what he hath done; there is no suit which can ever fail with god, when thou pleadest this. come to him, and thou wilt find it is true which is written, that "this man receiveth sinners." "_wherein ye greatly rejoice._" "wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness." and can a christian "greatly rejoice" while he is "in heaviness?" yes, most assuredly he can. mariners tell us that there are some parts of the sea where there is a strong current upon the surface going one way, while, down in the depths there is a strong current running the other way. two seas also do not meet and interfere with one another, but one stream of water on the surface is running in one direction, and another below in an opposite direction. now, the christian is like that. on the surface there is a stream of heaviness rolling in dark waves, but down in the depths there is a strong under-current of great rejoicing which is always flowing there. do you ask what is the cause of this great rejoicing? the apostle tells us, "_wherein_ ye greatly rejoice." what does he mean? refer to his epistle, and you will see. he is writing "to the strangers scattered throughout pontus, etc." and the first thing which he says to them is, that they are "elect according to the foreknowledge of god." this is an assurance "wherein ye greatly rejoice." ah! even when the christian is most "in heaviness through manifold temptations," what a mercy it is that he can know that he is still elect of god! any man who is assured that god "has chosen him from before the foundation of the world," may well say, "wherein i greatly rejoice." let us reflect on this. before god made the heavens and the earth, or laid the pillars of the firmament in their golden sockets, he set his love upon me; upon the breast of the great high priest he wrote my name; and in his everlasting book it stands, never to be erased--"elect according to the foreknowledge of god." why, this may make a man's soul leap within him, and all the heaviness which the infirmities of the flesh may lay upon him shall be but as nothing; for this tremendous current of his overflowing joy shall sweep away the mill-dam of his grief. bursting and overleaping every obstacle, it shall overflood all his sorrows till they are drowned and covered up, and shall not be mentioned any more forever. "wherein ye greatly rejoice." come, christian! thou art depressed and cast down. think for a moment: thou art chosen of god and precious. let the bell of election ring in thine ear--that ancient sabbath-bell of the covenant; and let thy name be heard in its notes, and say, i beseech thee, say, doth not this make thee "greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, thou art in heaviness through manifold temptations?" again, you will see another reason. the apostle says that we are "elect through sanctification of the spirit, unto obedience and sprinkling of the blood of jesus christ"--"wherein we greatly rejoice." is the obedience of the lord jesus christ girt about my loins, to be my beauty and my glorious dress? and is the blood of jesus sprinkled upon me, to take away all my guilt and all my sin? and shall i not in this greatly rejoice? what shall there be in all the depressions of spirit which can possibly come upon me which shall make me break my harp, even though i should for a moment hang it upon the willows? do i not expect that yet again my songs shall mount to heaven; and even now, through the thick darkness, do not the sparks of my joy appear, when i remember that i have still upon me the blood of jesus, and still about me the glorious righteousness of the messiah? but the great and cheering comfort of the apostle is, that we are elect unto "an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for us," even as we are reserved for it. well may this indeed make him greatly rejoice. he is drawing near the gates of death, and his spirit is in heaviness, for he has to leave behind him all that life holds dear. besides, sickness brings upon him naturally a depression of spirits. but you sit by him in his chamber, and you begin to talk to him of the "sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, arrayed in living green." you tell him of canaan on the other side the jordan--of the land which floweth with milk and honey--of the lamb in the midst of the throne, and of all the glories which god hath prepared for them who love him; and you see his dull eye light up with seraphic brightness, "his heaviness" is all gone, and the language of his heart is-- "on jordan's stormy banks i stand, and cast a wishful eye to canaan's fair and happy land, where my possessions lie." the anticipation of the coming glory and happiness fills him with "joy unspeakable." _changefulness._ how varied is the experience of the believer in his spiritual life! what changes there are in the weather of his soul! what bright sunlight days! what dark, cloudy nights! what calms, as though his life were a sea of glass! what terrible trials, as though his life were a tempestuous ocean! one time we find him crying, "my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me," and anon he sings, "bless the lord, o my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name." one hour we hear him sigh forth, "i sink in deep mire where there is no standing," and then we find him exulting, "the lord is my light, and my salvation, whom shall i fear: the lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall i be afraid." how wondrously he rises to heaven, and how awfully he dives into the deeps! surely we who have known anything of the spiritual and inner life do not marvel at this, for we have felt these changes. alas! what a contrast between the sin which doth so easily beset us, and the grace which gives us to reign in heavenly places. how different the sorrow of an abject distrust which breaketh us in pieces as with a strong east wind, and the joy of a holy confidence which bears us on to heaven as a propitious gale! what changes between walking with god to-day, and falling into the mire to-morrow, triumphing over sin, death, and hell yesterday, and to-day led captive by the lusts of the flesh and of the mind. verily, we cannot understand ourselves, and a description which would suit us at one time, would be ill-adapted at another time. changeable, indeed, is our experience; but oh, what a mercy that _christ_ does not change! varied as our experience may be, his grace is varied to meet it, for he has grace to help us in every time of need, and with infinite and unfailing good-will supplies us in the strength proportioned to our day. _thoughts of christ._ jesus! what infinite sweets in his name! our impressions on surveying him may be compared to some of those lenses you have seen, which you may take up and hold one way, and you see one light, and another way, and you see another light, and whichever way you turn them you will always see some precious sparkling of light, and some new colors starting up to your view. ah! take jesus for your theme; consider him; think of his relation to your own soul, and you will never get through that one subject. think of his eternal relationship to you; and also of your known and manifest relationship to him since you have been called by his grace. think how he has become your brother; how his heart has beaten in sympathy with yours; how he has kissed you with the kisses of his love, and his love has been sweeter to you than wine. look back upon some happy, sunny spots in your history, where jesus has whispered, "i am yours," and you have said "my beloved is mine." think of some choice moments, when an angel has stooped from heaven, and taken you up on his wings, and carried you aloft, to sit in heavenly places where jesus sits, that you might commune with him. or think of some moments, when you have had what paul sets so much store by--fellowship with christ in his sufferings--when you have felt that you could die _for_ christ, even as you have in the rich experience of your baptism, died _with_ him, and risen _with_ him. think of your relationship to christ which is to be developed in heaven. imagine the hour to have come when you shall "greet the blood-besprinkled hand on the eternal shore," and when the lord jesus shall salute you as "more than a conqueror," and put a crown upon your head more glittering than the stars. oh! take _jesus_ for your constant theme, and you will every day find fresh thoughts arise out of his grace, his beauty, his glory. in him you have an unfailing subject of delight, object of attraction, and centre of love. _a lesson of humility._ when jesus sent forth his seventy disciples, endowed with miraculous powers, they performed great wonders, and naturally enough were somewhat elated. in their words, "behold, even devils were subject to us," jesus marked their tendency to pride and self-congratulation. and what was the sacred lesson he taught to prevent their being exalted above measure? "nevertheless," said he, "rejoice not in this, but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven." the assurance of our interest in christ will tend to keep us humble in the day of our prosperity; it will act as a secret ballast to us to know that we have something better than these earthly blessings, therefore we must not set our affections upon the things of earth, but let our hearts be where our greatest treasure is. better than any lancet to spill the superfluous blood of our boasting--better than any bitter medicine to chase the burning fever of our pride, is this most precious and hallowed wine of the covenant--a remembrance of our safety in christ. this, opened up to us by the spirit, will suffice to keep us in that happy lowliness which is our true position. but when at any time we are cast down with multiplied troubles, the very same fact which kept us humble in prosperity will preserve us from despair in adversity. for the apostle paul was surrounded by a great fight of affliction; and yet he could say, "nevertheless i am not ashamed." but what is it which preserves him from sinking? it is the same truth which kept the ancient disciples from overweening pride. it is the sweet persuasion of his interest in christ. "for i know whom i have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which i have committed unto him against that day." then let us seek earnestly to obtain this full assurance of faith, for it will help us in all states of experience. let us not rest content till we can say with paul, "i know whom i have believed." _promises and precepts._ if thou wouldst have the promises fulfilled to thee, look to it that thou dost comply with _the precept annexed to the promise_. follow the example of moses. moses knew that there was a promise given to the people of israel, that they should be the world's blessing; but in order to obtain it, it was necessary that he should practise self-denial, therefore he "refused to be called the son of pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of god, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." if the promise commands thee to deny thyself, thou canst not obtain it without. do it, and thou shalt have its fulfilment. or suppose that the promise requires courage--_use courage_. or does the promise require obedience--_be obedient_. remember how rahab hung out from her window the scarlet line, because that was the test of her faith. so do thou. whatsoever christ hath said unto thee, do it. neglect no command, however trivial it may seem. do what thy master tells thee, asking no questions, for he is an ill servant who questions his lord's command. doubtless thou too, like the ethiopian eunuch, shalt go on thy way rejoicing when thou hast been obedient. or is the promise made to those who bear "a good report" of the land? remember, caleb and joshua were the only two who obtained the promise, because they alone honored god. so do thou honor god. let a scoffing world hear thine unvarying testimony that thy god is good and true. let not thy groanings and thy murmurings make men suspect that thou hast a hard master, and that his servants have no joys, no comforts, no delights. let it be known that he whom thou servest is no egyptian task-master; his yoke is easy; his service pleasure, his reward unspeakable. "them that honor me, i will honor." be thou careful to obey the precepts, and god will fulfil to thee the promises. _sweetness in sorrow._ do you not feel, in looking back upon seasons of affliction, that they have been times when, notwithstanding the trials, you have had unusual peace and happiness in your heart? there is a sweet joy which comes to us through sorrow. the bitter wine of sorrow acts with a tonic influence upon the whole system. the sweet cup of prosperity often leaves a bitterness in the taste; but the bitter cup of affliction, when sanctified, always leaves a sweet flavor in the mouth. there is joy in sorrow. there is music in this harp with its strings all unstrung and broken. there are a few notes we hear from this mournful lute which we never get from the loud-sounding trumpet. we obtain a softness and melody from the wail of sorrow, which we never get from the song of joy. must we not account for this by the fact, that in our troubles we live nearer to god? our joy is like the wave as it dashes upon the shore--it throws us on the earth. but our sorrows are like that receding wave which sucks us back again into the great depth of godhead. we should have been stranded and left high and dry upon the shore, if it had not been for that receding wave, that ebbing of our prosperity, which carried us back to our father and to our god again. blessed affliction! it has brought us to the mercy-seat; given life to prayer; enkindled love; strengthened faith; brought christ into the furnace with us, and then brought us out of the furnace to live with christ more joyously than before. _little-faith._ one inconvenience of "little-faith" is, that _while it is always sure of heaven, it very seldom thinks so_. little-faith is quite as secure for heaven as great-faith. when jesus christ counts up his jewels at the last day, he will take to himself the little pearls as well as the great ones. if a diamond be never so small, yet it is precious because it is a diamond. so faith, be it never so little, if it be true faith, is "like precious" with that which apostles obtained. christ will never lose even the smallest jewel of his crown. little-faith is always secure of heaven, because the name of little-faith is in the book of eternal life. little-faith was chosen of god before the foundation of the world. little-faith was bought with the blood of christ; ay, and he cost as much as great-faith. "for every man a shekel," was the price of redemption. every man, whether great or small, prince or peasant, had to redeem himself with a shekel. christ has bought all, both little and great, with the same most precious blood. little-faith is always secure of heaven, for god has begun the work in him, and he will carry it on. god loves him, and he will love him unto the end. god has provided a crown for him, and he will not allow the crown to hang there useless; he has erected for him a mansion in heaven, and he will not allow the mansion to stand untenanted forever. little-faith is always safe, but he very seldom knows it. if you meet him he is sometimes afraid of hell; very often afraid that the wrath of god abideth on him. he will tell you that the country on the other side the flood can never belong to one so base as he. sometimes it is because he feels himself so unworthy; another time it is because the things of god are too good to be true, he says; or he cannot think they can be true to such a one as he. sometimes he is afraid he is not elect; another time he fears that he has not been called aright, or that he has not come to christ aright; anon, his fears are that he will not hold on to the end, that he shall not be able to persevere; and if you kill a thousand of his fears, he is sure to have another host by to-morrow; for unbelief is one of those things which you cannot destroy; you may kill it over and over again, but still it lives. it is one of those ill weeds which sleep in the soil even after it has been burned, and it only needs a little encouragement, or a little negligence, and it will sprout up again. now, great-faith is sure of heaven, and he knows it. he climbs pisgah's top, and views the landscape o'er; he tastes of the sweetness of paradise even before he enters within the pearly gates; he sees the streets which are paved with gold; he beholds the walls of the city, the foundations whereof are of precious stones; he hears the mystic music of the glorified, and begins to smell on earth the perfumes of heaven. but poor little-faith can scarcely look at the sun; he very seldom sees the light; he gropes in the valley, and while all is safe, he always thinks himself unsafe. "_to be with christ._" "_to be with christ_." who can comprehend this but the christian? it is a heaven which worldlings care not for. they know not what a mass of glory is crowded into that one sentence: "to be with christ." but to the believer the words are a concentration of bliss. take only one of the many precious thoughts the words suggest--_the sight of christ_. "thine eye shall see the king in his beauty." we have heard of him, and can say, "whom having not seen we love." but then we "_shall see him_." yes, we shall actually gaze upon the exalted redeemer. realize the thought. is there not a heaven within it? thou shalt see the hands which were nailed to the cross for thee; thou shalt see the thorn-crowned head, and with all the blood-washed throng, shalt thou bow with lowly reverence before him, who bowed in lowly abasement for thee. faith is precious, but what must sight be? to view jesus as the lamb of god through the glass of faith, makes the soul rejoice with joy unspeakable; but oh! to see him face to face, to look into those eyes, to hear that voice--rapture begins at the very mention of it! if even to _think_ of it is so sweet, what must the _vision_ be when we shall talk with him, "even as a man talketh with his friend"--for the vision of christ implies _communion_. all that which the spouse desired in solomon's song, we shall have, and ten thousand times more. then will the prayer be fulfilled, "let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." then we shall be able to say, "his left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me." then shall we experience the promise, "they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy." and then we will pour out the song of gratitude, a song such as we have never sung on earth, tuneful, dulcet, pure, full of serenity and joy, no discord to mar its melody; a song rapt and seraphic. happy day, when vision and communion shall be ours in fulness--when we shall know even as we are known! index. page the preciousness of the promises. sorrow's discipline. the christian warfare. the privileges of trial. the joy of victory. light in the cloud. good works. the knowledge of christ's love. clear shining after rain. a quiet heart. a rich life. "he hath said." safety in conflict. to-morrow. a full heart. persevering prayer. humility. look upwards. the use of trial. faith necessary. christ "altogether lovely." the remedy for doubts. all things working for good. the triumph of grace. religion a personal matter. strength through weakness. begin well. the robe of righteousness. cross-bearers. the happiness of religion. unchangeable. increase of faith. communion with christ. the soul satisfied in christ. the lord's jewels. memorials of jesus. "freely give." religion--a present enjoyment. "our lord jesus." providence. the intercession of christ. holiness. the new heart. the christian's daily cross. joy over the repenting. god's tender care. the christian's crown. obedience to god's will. the gospel. believing prayer. warfare for sin. how to read the bible. a view of christ. the author and finisher of faith. the glad command. untiring delight. divine teaching. seeking christ. "christ in you." consolation. self-examination. heaven an inheritance. the sleep of death. foretastes of heaven. the work of the spirit. peace. earth's seasons. love undeserved. the infallible commentary. a place of trust. "consider him." the joy of pardon. inexhaustible promises. the fulness of christ. true blessing. faith and feeling. near home. beauty in christ. the savior's legacy. needless poverty. the sin of unbelief. the one family. the spirit of praise. love to christ. the first lesson. danger of prosperity. idleness. grace. obtaining promises. sympathy. "endure hardness." usefulness. the church and the world. the fight of faith. life's great object. love's circumference. the way to heaven. religion exemplified. the right estimate. "vessels of mercy." christian diligence. "comfort ye my people." self. strength through joy. the refiner's fire. heart-learning. the hope of heaven. rejoice always. religion a present concern. trouble lightened. the gospel requirement. "ye are not your own." "continue in prayer." the holy savior. christ our example. god's government. the secret of strength. nature and grace. look to christ. love in chastening. enduring the cross. christian gravity. short-sightedness. steadfastness. "be not high-minded, but fear." evidence of the new life. "a few names even in sardis." increase of strength. the triumphant deliverance. a complete savior. home-mercies. "grace doth much more abound." unsubmissive prayers. "more than conquerors." christian gladness. the condescension of christ. all of grace. "this man receiveth sinners." "wherein ye greatly rejoice." changefulness. thoughts of christ. a lesson of humility. promises and precepts. sweetness in sorrow. little-faith. "to be with christ." a christmas gift to the american home and the youth of america by n. p. gravengaard _former president danish evangelical lutheran church of america. author of "eternal life and everlasting joy" and "lectures."_ translated from the danish by g. s. strandvold [illustration: arti et veritati] boston richard g. badger the gorham press copyright, , by richard g. badger all rights reserved made in the united states of america the gorham press, boston, u. s. a. introduction the present volume is a translation from the danish language of one of rev. mr. gravengaard's books which in its original form has attained a success among danes in the united states and americans of danish descent which is quite unprecedented in the annals of danish immigrant literature, secular and religious. the book has passed through two large editions and has even found wide reading in far-off denmark. the work of rendering this volume into english has been a source of unlimited joy because of the clarity of the author's message; the form in which he has clothed his thoughts, and the immediate humanistic touch evident from beginning to end. it is the hope of the translator that an equal measure of satisfaction and delight may accrue to the public who now for the first time may enjoy the opportunity of becoming familiar with mr. gravengaard's writings in the language of the united states. the translator contents page christmas thoughts . the christmas angels: dost thou remember? . room for jesus . well-springs of joy . to join in the song . the joy of understanding . the faith of a little child thoughts for the new year . to see like the angels . the hidden life the worth of your soul that which is hidden shall be revealed not in word, neither in tongue seest thou this woman? what about the devil? two episodes of the civil war . looting those who fell . removed because of mischief your words behind the shield love me--and tell me so! to bear burdens be steadfast in prayer . a gain and a protection . what mother taught me . the evening-prayer: a protection . the morning-prayer: a gain zacchÆus . to be home by oneself . all forgiven--nothing in vain . during the following days the march of events the little while the miracle in our age . the miracle and nature . the miracle and the church of the lord america--you are the hope of the world to-day religious thoughts for everybody a christmas gift christmas thoughts . _the christmas angel's: dost thou remember?_ i was sitting in my study. darkness was gathering, and it was christmas eve. then it was as though a kind and soothing voice whispered into my ear: dost thou remember christmas eve at home? do i?--indeed, i remember it as it were but yesterday. i remember so plainly how we, all finely dressed, gathered at the long table. there father was sitting at one end reading aloud from the old hymn book while we all listened, our hands folded. at the other end of the table grandmother was sitting, and i next to her, for i was "grandma's boy." the old brass spectacles were sitting astride the very tip of her nose so that i could not quite grasp whether she peered through them or merely glanced above them. when father had finished reading, grandmother spoke up--she wanted us to sing now this christmas carol, now that; she had sung on christmas eve for so many, many years that she could lead us in singing them. her voice--well, it was old, for she was past eighty, but if you say it wasn't fine, then you surely are no good as a judge of grandmother's voice. * * * * * mother--do i remember her? indeed, i never forget her. gentle and quiet she sat at the table, slightly pale, her cheeks somewhat haggard. her mother-eye wandered from one to the other, resting on each of us with a wealth of love. it was a strange look that came from those eyes surrounded by dark edges--it was so filled with love and wistfulness. then came that christmas when her chair stood vacant. o, yes, i remember her so plainly. it was quite near christmas when she closed her eyes, and her last words to us were: "_follow jesus!_" yes, i remember it all, but--o, wait just a little--it was only that--if tonight you visit those dear ones at home, tell them then that i remember it all. and tell them that we also--despite the struggle for money and the increasing lack of veneration for ancient christian festivals--tell them that we also celebrate christmas both in our home and in the church. * * * * * thus i sent my christmas greetings carried on the wings of the angel. . _room for jesus_ (luc. , ) "there was no room in the inn." no, neither was there room in the golden regal halls in jerusalem nor in the palace of the high priest. therefore the angels--those heavenly messengers--came to neither the inn nor jerusalem. it is not with the angels as with the invader's hordes in belgium--they do not intrude upon foreign soil, sword in hand. they are the messengers of peace, and visit only those who have room for jesus. and here we behold first of all the shepherds on the field near bethlehem. in their hearts there was _room_ for jesus; the sweet music from heaven above found the _way open_ to these men. they had been sitting out there watching how old and young flocked to the city of david to register on the tax list. it must have been a sore trial for them to think how god's people had come under a foreign yoke: wasn't, then, all hope dead? were not the living conditions of israel so desperate; the people themselves so harassed that it must needs be impossible for god to fulfill his promises from the ancient days of yore? they bent their heads, sighing heavily. but the sigh soared upward. thus they sat in the stillness of the night, bent under the sufferings of the age, as in former days israel sat at the rivers of babylon: nobody dared play the harp! nay--who would really be able to let the harp chords burst out in a song of joy--under _such conditions_? that would have been almost levity. but the sigh had ascended up high, and the angel stood before them saying: i can! i can make the harp play a song of joy. i come from the mansions of heaven with a cheering message: "fear not, for behold, i bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. for unto you is born this day, in the city of david, a saviour, which is christ the lord----" and then the first of all jubilant christmas hymns was borne upon the pure lips of angels and carried all over the earth. that was the sweet _music from heaven_ which shall never die. it shall sound for all those who sit in misery, or who sigh because of their poverty--for those who think that their life has become so turned upside down that nothing can ever be righted again--for those who sigh: no, under such circumstances we cannot sing the cheery songs. to all these it shall be said: _it is not impossible, at all!_ it doesn't matter so much how your living conditions are, difficult or easy, dark or bright, nor how disrupted your life may be. what does matter, is whether or not you have room for jesus. you say: alas--if he only would, but---- remember, my dear, that at one time he was satisfied with a _manger_ and with a _cross_. while on the cross he said to a miserable malefactor: "to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." and on another occasion he said to a woman taken in adultery: "neither do i condemn thee: go, and sin no more!" _fear not!_ that was the first tone in the music from heaven, and it was meant for _you_, also. indeed, he will abide with you, too, when you will give him room in your heart. also you he will save into his heavenly realm. but, then tell me: isn't there, even considering your wants and circumstances, every reason why you should sing a christmas hymn with joy in your heart? it was not levity that made the angels sing jubilantly that christmas eve: _they had beheld that which had been prepared for mankind through the love of god our father_. therefore, they could sing the jubilant songs. so, try then to look beyond all the _despair_ down here. try to raise your eyes to the bright heavens--to that which has been prepared for you through the love of god our father. if it does happen, nevertheless, that once in a while you bend your head _downward_, then let the sigh soar _upward_--for it may thus happen that angels will visit you. therefore it shall be proclaimed loudly by the church of jesus christ--from the city on the mountain throughout all the lands of the earth--to all those who have room for jesus: _fear not! it is never so dark in your life that there is no room for the joyful songs of christmas!_ . _well-springs of joy_ well-springs of joy! it does sound a bit strange that _a babe on the knee of a virgin_ might be the well-spring of joy. ordinarily, it is a well-spring of worry and tears when a virgin sits with her babe on her knee--worry and tears for herself and for those who are related to her. but here we behold a virgin who herself has sung the joyful hymn of praise because she had been found deserving of such grace. well-springs of joy it was to mary and to the aged elizabeth from the very beginning--and now the christmas angel announces that it is "for all the people." but, someone may say to us: yes, we know that the _shepherds_ were happy and that joy reigned in the _inn_, and we also realize that you speak of christmas joy, etc., but when you say that this story about the child in the manger is a well-spring of joy--then, really, you go a little bit too far, and such exaggerations hurt your own cause. it isn't sensible to make it out quite as strong as that. behold that highly praised child jesus nailed to the cross as a condemned criminal, his mother standing at the foot of the cross--and then tell us: isn't it true that this child, like so many, many others, made joy change into sorrow? wouldn't any mother's heart break when she had to witness her son die the death of a condemned criminal? even though no sin was found in him, then you must admit that in this position he was a well of sorrow and weeping rather than of joy. we answer: we know very well that his mother and his disciples mourned and wept--they could not do otherwise in that hour. but the _well-spring_ of this sorrow and weeping was not in the crucified christ. even in this hour he is the well-spring of joy, for then he nailed our debt of sin to the cross. then he redeemed us from the power of sin and death and the devil. it was for our sake that he allowed himself to be nailed fast onto the cross. it was thus magnificently revealed here that the child praised while sitting on the virgin's knee, had proved to be our faithful friend in life and death, when he became a man. therefore, he is, also, in this the darkest hour of his earthly life, a well-spring of joy, and if we are to weep when we gather about the christmas child as the crucified one in the church of the lord--then it shall be out of the joy of our hearts. the christmas child is the only one, born of woman, of whom it can be said that he has been a well-spring of joy. and that he has been throughout the life of mankind--from that very moment when in the garden of eden he was spoken of as the conqueror of the serpent. but he is also the only one who "makes all earth feel joyful." . _to join in the song_ "the angels join the singing." well, it is easy enough for them to sing when we give the tone, for it is never too high for them. it is different when we are to join when they lead the singing. sometimes it is a little bit hard for us children of dust--but we must learn it. they sang that christmas eve: "glory to god in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!" the first part of it is easy for you to sing, for "the glory of christmas is god's above the highest sky." that's quite simple. but when the angels then sing: "on earth peace, good will toward men!" you stop short; you cannot sing that. the tone is too high for you. when you look at your own life, it seems to be burdened much more with strife and worry and trouble than lightened by peace. and what do the heavenly hosts mean when they sing about good will toward yourself--o, well, it isn't much! then if you look beyond the narrow confines of your own life and behold the church of the lord, where peace should be far more firmly rooted, then--what then? "the eye sees strife and only strife," and the people _speak_ about peace and tremble in the thunder of cannon. they _bleed_ and _scream pitifully_ on the battlefield because of their wounds--and at home under the pressure of military budgets. no, you cannot join in the singing! but how, then, could the angels sing as they did that christmas night? was not the world filled with war and disturbances in those days, too? was not the world full of souls in quest of lost peace? yes, even so! and the angels saw it. but _they saw something more_. amidst all the restlessness of a disturbed world they saw a little child on his mother's knee. in this child's eyes the sacred peace of heaven was reflected. so that was at least one human soul in all the millions of mankind where perfect peace reigned on earth. toward this, the only one, the angels looked. when, then, you seek peace on earth, look not in the direction of the world, of the struggling masses, but look toward jesus--not as he was that night on his mother's knee in the inn near bethlehem--for he is there no more, but as he is in his church, in his word, and in his institutions. his church on earth is that mother's knee upon which you shall find him, and where you, in a world filled with war and strife, shall find peace and repose for your own soul. the angels made no attempt whatever to penetrate into the strife of the world or to unravel its troubles. neither shall you so do. on the other hand, they tried to look into the eye of the saviour, and there they beheld peace--a heavenly peace which they had not seen on earth since that evening hour when adam and eve were driven out of the garden of eden, and when one of their own kind was placed on guard with a flaming sword at the portals of paradise. then night fell upon earth. but christmas eve the new day began to arise from out of the darkness. then they saw again a human being in the depth of whose soul reigned the peace of heaven, and therefore they bore their good will. _the peace and the good will, then, was in this one man_, and through him born into the millions of mankind. the angels had seen this one, and therefore they could sing as they did. perhaps you say: well, i can understand plainly enough why god the father and the holy angels should bear him good will. but were i to join in the singing, i must needs be convinced that the father would also bear me good will. that is what i need to be convinced about. but here i stand telling myself: the best acts in my life, the purest thoughts in my soul, are darkened by sin. what then? yes, that is true. but, then, tell me: have you not at times felt the nearness of jesus? was not he your soul's refuge in the darkness? was not he like a luminous star in your life? was he not yours--conceived within you in the sacred moment of baptism, born into the world with pangs within your soul--perhaps in the darkness of night? but then the father in heaven does bear you good will. he does not look at the darkness of sin within you--that, he knows, will be vanquished by the light of his son, but he looks at his only begotten son who is the luminous star of your life--the only one, but splendid and bright. then you own in him the peace of heaven and the good will of god our father--and then you can _join in the singing_. . _the joy of understanding_ (john , - ) who among us does not remember christmas at home?--in my own childhood home there was no christmas tree, but a remarkably impressive solemnity reigned above and upon all during christmas. sometimes i still wish that i might become a child once more and celebrate christmas at home again, with father and mother, grandmother and all those dear ones. that cannot be done, however, for all these beloved ones are having christmas in the mansions of heaven--and i am no longer a child. but about these christmas memories, i want to say: "god, let me never, never forget them!" that was the joy without clearly conscious reasons. one was glad just because it was christmas, but was unable to go into any further details about the reasons. but now i am a child no more!--are we as "grown-ups" to be satisfied with the memory of our childhood christmas, and by witnessing the pleasure of the children--share a little of that christmas sentiment which envelops all? undoubtedly, many people will answer: yes, that is all. christmas really is meant only for the children. since we became experienced men and women who have become acquainted with the vexations and worries of life, we cannot thoroughly enjoy christmas. to us, the law of life has been proclaimed in the words: "in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken." in the hard, wearying, suffering and struggling life of the world, the unconscious joy, that is, the joy that knows of no reason, is not enough. there is a craving for a joy that knows and understands the spirit of christmas if one is to be completely glad--that is true! but what does the gospel say: "and the word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the father), full of grace and truth." that means, that the only begotten son of god, who was with god and who was himself god, has descended and taken up his abode among us---not only among the children! no, indeed, also among grown-up and experienced men and women who must shoulder the burdens and heat of the day. the christmas message is the message that tells us that _jesus christ, with heavenly power and with heavenly love_, has taken up his abode among all working, struggling and suffering people upon earth--not like a haughty, indifferent onlooker at your work, your exertions, your struggle as we might imagine the son of the big manufacturer going into the shop looking at the toiling, perspiring workers with haughty, indifferent scorn and with a shrug of the shoulder. no, _jesus christ entered the life of mankind as a benevolent and powerful participant in it_, so that you, when you look at your work and wonder whether you will be able to finish it--at your suffering and wonder whether you can keep on suffering--never shall reckon with your own strength alone, but must include jesus therein. he has gone into your suffering, has taken up your fight and your work for the purpose of suffering, fighting and working with you and becoming your saviour. therefore, he says: "come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest." that means: _all you men and women who labor and are heavy laden_. but when i can grasp a little of this, then i enjoy christmas--not because of the memory of vanished days, but because of the understanding of the fact that christmas is meant just for me who have experienced how much there is _to labor for, to fight against, and to be saved from_, and how sorely i stand in need of a heavenly support of strength and love, in my daily work and in my daily struggles. therefore, i now say: christmas is meant for all us grown-up men and women who take life seriously and who know what are its conditions. we cannot dispense with christmas, at all. we offer god our praise and our gratitude for christmas, and we do so _with the joy of understanding_. . _the faith of a little child_ on the west front lay a -year-old boy a few days before christmas, . he had voluntarily enlisted under the flag of great britain, and was yearning to storm forward in the ranks of his comrades--forward to victory. and he _had_ been in the front rank. now he lay wounded and bleeding on the battlefield. the battle was over; the stars shone, and he was thinking: wonder, if i shall lie here and die! memories stormed upon him. his mother had said: "god be always with you, my lad!" and the old minister had said: "remember there is always a window open upward!" upward--upward to god! was it not as though the twinkling stars were smiling at him--calling him, as it were? yes, they summoned him upward. o, how that wound pained him! wonder if the ambulance isn't coming soon? he could hear the cries of the other wounded; perhaps that was when they were lifted up from the ground. would no one find him? he could not stir, could not call--could only gaze at the distant stars. was there room for him up there? yes, for he was sure death was approaching. "mother," he whispered, "mother--o god--take my soul--now, just before christmas--for the sake of jesus christ!" the angels came, and they carried him to heaven. his prayer had been heard up there. his child's soul was carried upward to god. * * * * * when the famous french preacher, adolphe monod, was asked what had been the cause of his greatest gratitude, he said: "_i thank god that he hath given me the faith of a little child._" the main thing for him was not that god had given him a great task as a preacher and a theologian, but that he had given him the faith of a little child. that means: the faith that accepts the grace of god _without making objections_!-- o, thou great and rich and powerful people: lay aside all thy bustle, all thy doubts, and all thy suspicion toward god--lay it aside, all of it, and accept the joyful tidings of christmas with the faith of a little child--without making objections. then thou wilt be glad. the well known french writer, larradan, whose pen formerly had written nothing but scorn against faith, during the war implored his people to return to the christian faith as the only firm and saving foothold. he writes: "i laughed at faith and thought myself cocksure. now i no longer rejoice at my scornful laughter, for i see france bleeding and weeping. i stood at the wayside and saw the soldiers. they went out to meet death--rejoicing. i asked: what makes you so calm? and they began praying to god saying: 'we believe in god!' i counted the sacrifices of our people, and noticed that they bore them praying. then it became clear to me that there was something comforting and sustaining in recognizing an eternal home-country, when that of the earth is glowing in the fire of hatred. this feeling is science--the science of the child.... a nation must despair if it does not believe that the torment of the earth can be exchanged for the joy of heaven.... france was great in the days of yore. but that was a france which had faith. how about france in our own age? it is torn to pieces with want and suffering. it is a france that believes no longer. will her future brighten? at the hand of god--only at the hand of god.--france, o, france, revert to the faith, to thy most beauteous days! to go away from god is to perish!..." _i thank god that he hath given me the faith of a little child! thoughts for the new year . _to see like the angels_ the striking feature of the way in which angels see does not consist in their seeing everything, both good and evil, in this world, in a rosy hue, in heavenly glory so that they really do not see the evil as it is--but in this that they see particularly what is good and seek that by preference--let their eye dwell upon, rest thereon, with pleasure. therefore we can sing: to us he also smiles with heaven's light in his eyes. it is otherwise with that human being who is depraved by nature. his eye seeks, with a certain predilection, whatever is wrong in his fellow-beings, dwells upon it with mischievous joy. it is an innate fault which makes it difficult for us humans to embrace one another, to smile at one another, in the manner of angels. suppose that we in the new year make a serious attempt to look at each other as the angels look--seeking what is good in our fellow-beings. with an earnest will we can accomplish much, especially when we are sustained by prayer. let us begin at home! perhaps it is long since you, man, have embraced your wife and given her a real _smile_. when she was your bride--in the years of youth--that was your greatest joy, but as the years went by you found this fault and that with her, and then--why, then you ceased embracing her and smiling at her. it wasn't quite as bright in your home as before. she became more and more reticent; her rippling laughter--like that of a child--was heard no more. her cheerful songs were silent. she became rather morose and querulous. a woman cannot thrive where home is without smiles and love. you accepted the slow changes as it behooves a man of staid dignity--life teaches so much, also compromise with ideals, and the realization that the bright expectations of youth come to naught. but, now suppose that it wasn't life, but you _yourself_ that were to blame? suppose the change arose from the fact that you had been inconsiderate to your wife. your eye had detected her faults and shortcomings rather than her good points? try, man, during the new year to look at her as the angels look at us! let your eye, diligently and willingly, seek what is good in her, dwell upon it, be jealous of it--give her all the appreciation she deserves for making the home cosy and comfortable. try it with an earnest effort and a sincere prayer--then you will once more feel like embracing her and smiling at her as you did when she was the bride of your youth. it might happen that you would reap a _hundredfold_ before the year ebbs out. it will be brighter and more snug in your house--and it will feel so good to be at home. or you, wife and mother, beginning to bend down and "feel old" although you are just beyond thirty. perhaps you tell yourself: o, had i only thought then that he was as he is--but i did not know. and the children, yes--god knows, they are like him--naughty and hard to manage. instead of staying at home to help a little with the children in the evening--he just simply skips out.---- hush--wait a while! in what way did you tell him this when you asked him last to stay at home? did you throw your arms around his neck--did you _smile_ at him, saying: my dear, stay home with us tonight? it's no use, you say--but "it's no use" is, absolutely, a term which cannot be found in the vocabulary of christians nor in the life of christians--nor in yours if you are a christian woman. it helps very much to do what is good while praying--perhaps not _when you_ want it, perhaps not the way you want it. but it will surely help if during the new year you look for just that in your husband which you loved when you were young--if you let your eye dwell upon it, cling firmly to it in your thoughts, carry it into your prayer--embrace him and smile at him as in the bygone days of youth. where love has been sown, the harvest is as dependable as is that of the wheat in the field--it is only in some cases that it proves a failure. and even though yours might seem to be just such a case where your love did not sustain him--then the love which you have sown will sustain you and your little ones--and in the course of the year your home will reap at least thirtyfold. we always gain by sowing love--also in cases where we must needs acknowledge that our love, like the seed that fell by the wayside, bears no fruit in those upon whom it descended. but in the large majority of homes the seeds of love will fall into fertile ground, and bring forth fruit, some thirtyfold, some sixty and some a hundred. when only we have learned how to embrace the dear ones at home and to smile as the angels smile, then we will also be able to smile at others--but first at home. and a year in which we have tried with earnest diligence to learn the art of seeing what is good in life, to dwell upon it and to smile at our fellow-beings--as the angels smile--is a good year, rich in the grace and blessings from above. * * * * * i had just officiated at the funeral of a woman, the mother of many children, when a man said to me, "well, now she's got a velvet-lined coffin, but while she lived she was hardly able to get a calico dress." and that was not because of poverty. what if her husband had given her a velvet dress while she was living! then she would have taken pleasure in it, and he would have received her gratitude. the beautiful casket she could not enjoy--and could give him no thanks for it. but _you_ don't behave like that, do you? * * * * * on another occasion i heard the widow ask one of the pall-bearers when we turned away from the grave: "how did you like that sermon?" the following day i met her son-in-law and was told that she had not liked it at all. among other things he remarked: "she simply wanted you to put some feathers in her crown, but there wasn't any room for them." and i agreed with him. * * * * * in both instances man and wife lived together until parted by death. but love had died--happiness vanished. speak to each other the kindly words--scatter flowers on each other's way throughout the year, then love groweth, and happiness in the home increases in intensity. then you can truly sing: home, home, sweet, sweet home, there's no place like home-- o, there's no place like home. . _the hidden life_ (mat. , - ) the inscription on the tombstone erected on the grave of the great french philosopher, descartes (died ), reads: "_he has lived well who was hidden well_," or, "_he is happy whose life is hidden_." in this lies the thought that happiness depends upon the hidden life--that this is something good which affords one a refuge. nowadays, the prevailing impression is that happiness is contingent upon _life in public view_; that happiness consists in the ability to attain a prominent position, in being admired, gaining wealth and winning fame. this is an absolute delusion. andrew carnegie, the late multi-millionaire, said: "i have tried to make money by leading an incessantly busy life--but it did not make me happy. now i have tried to give money away to public institutions--and still i found no happiness in that"; this is an impressive testimony from a prominent and honest man, showing that happiness has nothing to do with life in the public view. it is this jesus says to the pharisees: you stake all upon _leading your life in public view_, in the synagogues and in the streets, to gain the admiration of men. for this reason you have forgotten to seek the good refuge with god, to lead a hidden life with god, full of prayer. therefore, your public life is devoid of blessing to the people and without joy to yourselves. _you have no reward, and no happiness._ "enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy father which is in secret." you shall seek the hidden corners of your own heart and there speak with your father about that life which stirs in there, unseen by the world. then you will soon realize the necessity of hiding with god the father and of living your life with him hidden away from the world. that is the condition for your becoming a happy man or a happy woman, and it will contribute to the bliss of that part of your life which must be lived before the public. therefore, this shall be my new year's wish for you, that you _during the coming year may find the happiness which lies in the hidden life of prayer, with god_. many married people seem to think that their matrimonial happiness depends on swell homes and association with those more prosperous families known as "society"--"keeping up with the joneses." this is wrong. attempts of that kind often lead to the utter destruction of happiness. it is true that a nice home and a pleasing circle of acquaintances are worth much, but marital happiness does not depend upon them. it springs from that life which man and wife live together unseen by the eyes of the world. the happiest moments in the life of a wife are not those in which her husband stands upon the stage of the world, the object of praise and admiration--as the man _to whom the laurel wreath is given_; nor, in the life of the man, when his wife is considered _a celebrated grand lady_. no, the sublimest happiness in married life is due to those hours when man and wife sit cheerfully at home, hand in hand, talking about the grace of god and about their mutual love. * * * * * many young people think that happiness and joy depend upon the number of dances they are able to attend, or upon exterior circumstances. it is not their fault that they are neither happy nor glad. it is due to the environment, living conditions, to those with whom they associate. and while all this may be of importance it is, profoundly seen, a delusion, nevertheless. it is true, also, in the case of the young man and the young woman that their happiness essentially depends upon their hidden life. if that is a life of impure thoughts, of sinful cravings--then happiness will be meagre, no matter how favorable the environment may be. there will be no calm and deep-seated joy, no real happiness. if, on the other hand, that hidden life means a life of pure thoughts and noble ambition, a life in god, then it will mean happiness even though the environment may be unfavorable. * * * * * it is a law in the life of mankind that happiness depends upon the manner in which the hidden life is lived. by creating this law, god has given rich and poor an equal chance of happiness, and has shown himself as the friend of the poor. * * * * * king charles ix of france once asked the italian poet, tasso: "who, think you, is the happiest?" without a moment of hesitation, the poet answered: "god." "yes, yes, very well," the king said, "but then next to god?" "the one who resembles him most," was the answer. the worth of your soul "for what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" (mat. , .) the first thought is that of _the infinite worth of the soul_. in one scale of the balance jesus places all the world with its gold and gems, its art and science, its limitless values of woods and prairie soil--and in the other, a human soul. and then he says: behold all this splendor! look at it all, thou yearning child of man! it is not equal to the worth of your soul. everything great and beautiful in life originates in the human soul. through that, all noble thoughts and great ideas have come into being. every work of art was formed in a human soul before it was painted upon the canvas, chiseled in marble, or written in a book. it is the stamp of the human soul that lends value to the work. revere that _mark of the soul_ wherever you recognize it! but have reverence, above all, for the _soul_ itself. that has the worth of infinity. to "lose your soul" is to suffer everlasting damage which cannot be repaired or substituted by values of the world. the other thought is that about _exchange for your soul_. wherever that precious soul is demanded of you, you can give nothing else in _exchange_. there is nothing in the whole, wide world that has value enough as exchange for a human soul. neither is there anything whose value can equal that of the mark of your soul upon your work. if you owe your neighbor ten bushels of wheat, you may pay him back by giving him twenty bushels of corn or cash in exchange, and he will realize that he is paid in full. but this cannot be done where rests upon you the giving of your soul. this first of all you must consider in your relation to god who gave you your soul. he will demand it from you when your earthly life has ended. if your soul then is seen to have suffered corruption, it is not fit to enter into eternal life, and you have nothing else to give god in its place. it avails you nothing that you say: "o, lord, i know that i have been so occupied with worldly things that i have not taken care of my soul, as i should have done. but, in this way i have made $ , which i now donate to missionary work."--my dear, that cannot compensate for the wrong that has been inflicted upon your soul. david understood this. therefore he said to god: "for thou desirest not sacrifice; else would i give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering." but god delights in a prayer like this: "have mercy upon me, o god, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!" there is a human soul in this prayer--it is true that it is a suffering soul--but it is there. thus god demands that your soul be in your _prayer_, your _praise_, and your _worship_, and there is nothing else that can take its place. the worship of the pharisee was perfect, from the point of form. everything was done according to rules and regulations. but it was _soulless_. therefore, jesus condemns it. but where he hears the prayer or sees the tears of repentant sinners, he stands still. there he stoops, and in their wailing and stammering worship he beholds a human soul that has suffered wrongs--one, perhaps, which is deeply tainted. but the soul is there, and it has worth to him. he can heal all the wounds of the soul. and where the wounds of the soul are being healed, worship takes place. but, then, the human soul must take part. * * * * * this is true, also, in worldly things. where your soul is demanded of you, you can give nothing else in barter for it. you may give your wife food and shelter, dresses and footwear, but that is not enough. she has a right to your soul. golden rings and splendid dresses cannot take its place. but if you do give her your soul--in smiling joy or in a burst of weeping--she will cling unto you with everlasting rejoicing in her heart. in this devotion she will recognize infinite worth. or your children! you may give them a good education, may even leave them a substantial legacy. but what god above all else demands of you, is that you give them your soul--a father's soul and a mother's soul, which they can learn to honor and to love. to give them a substantial legacy as an equivalent to this spiritual partnership is to give them stones where bread is wanted. * * * * * remember, then, your soul's infinite worth--remember that wherever it be demanded of you, in your relations to god or men: you can give nothing in its place. there is nothing in this world which is valuable enough to take the place of the human soul. that which is hidden shall be revealed (mat. , ) "for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known." no one sees it, thinks the burglar when in the hours of the night he breaks into a house. it is hidden by darkness. no one sees it, think the adulterer and the adulteress when they satisfy their sinful lust. it is hidden to others. it is their secret. no one sees it, and no one will know about it, the young man thinks when, covered by darkness, he sneaks into the saloon. _yes, god sees it!_--yes, god! but, to be sure, he doesn't tell the neighbors about it the next morning. no, to be sure! but, nevertheless, it will be brought forward in the light of the day--all these secrets of darkness. if that consciousness could but be vivid and strong within us--how many criminals would then keep away from the paths of evil! and how many secrets of darkness would be revealed to god through repentant confessions--and be _forgiven_ instead of _concealed_ in the innermost chambers of the heart like a guilty secret--a guilty secret only to be covered by a new transgression. "the lord discovereth deep things out of the darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death," says job ( , ). when judas had agreed to betray jesus, he concealed that evil secret in the innermost chamber of his heart. but jesus saw it in there. he saw that this secret of darkness would push judas into the darkness without--down to despair--to perdition. therefore jesus made an attempt to bring out that secret from the darkness when they sat together at the easter meal. that is my understanding of jesus' pointing out judas as the traitor. it is as though he would say to him: o, listen, judas, let us bring that dark secret out into the light so that it may be forgiven! but judas arose and went away. he wanted to keep the evil secret to himself. happy he or she who asks jesus to bring forth the evil secrets from the heart so that they may be repented and forgiven--so that their power may be crushed! then, on the great day they shall be revealed as having been _repented of_ and _forgiven_--to the glory of the lord who has released us from the fetters of the evil secrets. but it is not only the evil secrets that are to be revealed in the light of the day. _all_ secrets are to be revealed. does man possess other secrets than those of the darkness? will there not be very little to bring forth in the way of good secrets from the recesses of the heart? no, thank god, there will be thousands of them. all those loving thoughts which you conceived in secret, and which you never found a chance to express--they shall be revealed on that great day. all the heavy sighs and all the burning prayers which have issued forth from the depths of the heart in secret, shall be made known in the light. and they are countless. generation after generation has witnessed parents praying for their children--o, could we but realize a small part of all that which has been fought for and prayed for in secret! then we would be surprised to know that someone had _thought so lovingly, had prayed so fervently, and struggled so earnestly for our sake--in secret_. all these good and pure secrets shall be revealed on the great day. how radiantly they will testify that the human heart has not been merely the battlefield of the secrets of darkness, as some seem to believe. and together with all the evil secrets, repented of and forgiven, they shall glorify our lord and saviour jesus christ who endowed us with the gift of _wanting to_ think lovingly, pray fervently, and struggle earnestly in secret. not in word, neither in tongue "my little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth" (i. john , ). five little girls stood in a garden telling each other how dearly each one of them loved her mother. the words became more and more emphatic until finally bertha--the eldest of them--poking her nose upward, said decisively: "i love my mamma so much that i could die for her sake." and thus everyone was brought to silence. but on a bench a little farther away in the garden bertha's aunt sat sewing; she overheard it all, and then said: "it is strange that a little girl who loves her mother so much that she would be willing to die for her, does not love her enough to wash dishes for her. i heard this noon, bertha, that you didn't want to do the dishes for your mamma!" it is strange, indeed! "my little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth." * * * * * the young man says to his bride: "i love you, darling, so much that i could carry you on my hands all through life!"--a year after the wedding it may happen that he cannot carry up a bucket of coal from the basement for her. that's strange, too. the young woman says to her fiancé: "i love you so much that i could die for you!"--but if it is a question of that new easter bonnet, she cannot save a dollar out of regard for her husband's pocketbook: she doesn't love him that much. you do not love each other enough to _sacrifice_ for each other's sake--or to be a bit _patient_ with each other--or to _cut down a little_ your own personal demands out of regard for each other. therefore we have so many divorces. "my little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth." * * * * * charles dickens tells in one of his books of two sisters who are discussing how intently they wish to do something really great and good. under the petty circumstances at home they couldn't get the chance. but if they might be sent out as missionaries among the heathens--o, how they would toil just to help those poor people! it didn't matter that perhaps they would have to suffer the pangs of hunger and persecution--if they only could show people their love. just then their old grandmother who was sick abed in the next room, said: "o, girls, won't one of you come and scratch my back?" "you can do that," the one said. "no, you'd better do it," said the other. "it's always up to me--you might do it once in a while!" that was the end of the glory--and of the love. on distant shores; under other circumstances they would do deeds of love. but in that everyday life where god had placed them, it wasn't quite as easy as all that to show their love. we can all catch ourselves in similar shortcomings. we would like to be charitable on a grand scale if we were _elsewhere_ or _differently situated_; but in everyday life--it is so prosaic just to help an old mother, or a grandfather, or some sick and poor person. and yet it is that which submits us to the crucial test. "my little children, let us love not in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth." seest thou this woman? (lu. , ) simeon is a benevolent pharisee, deferential toward jesus, but icy and dignified. the woman is a sinner, a former prostitute with whom simeon is disgusted; yes, he sees her, all right! he knows her! it is as when i ask someone: do you know the ocean? and he then answers: i should say so! i have been standing in the downs watching the waves; i have seen them soaring to the height of houses while the wind whipped their foam into my eyes. yes, i have seen the ocean--i know it, all right! then i answer: pardon me, my dear--but if that is all you have seen, you do not know the ocean. you have not _seen_ it while it lay calm and glittering and smooth like a mirror in the sunshine, nor have you _noticed_ it when its surface was all alive with ripples, and when it roared with that hollow sound that betrays the presence of violent undertows far beneath the surface. thus with simeon. that which he had seen and heard of this woman, had been brought to him, like the wind-swept foam of the sea, in the storm of evil tongues, and then he says: i should think i know her, indeed! i know to what kind she belongs. i see her--a low-down, vulgar and lewd woman! but the undertow in the depth of her soul he had not seen; the heaving sighs from within he had not heard. he did not know how often she had been tossing restlessly upon her couch in moaning and anguish, nor how firmly she had been clutched by the wound-inflicting bonds of vice, nor how strongly she had tugged at them in order that she might set herself free. and that was not the only thing simeon did not see. the wind-swept foam had veiled his eye so he could not see what was really good in her at that moment despite her appearance stamped with sin. _there were bitter tears of repentance. there was warmth of heart. there was love for jesus._ seest thou this woman? seest thou this man? how do you look at the people among whom you live? do you notice only the uncouth exterior? do you listen only to that which is carried to you by the wind of the evil tongues? or do you listen to the undertow in the depths of the heart, to the heaving sighs, the hollow roaring from within? the famous italian sculptor, michelangelo, once stood before a large coarsely chiseled slab of stone which he surveyed carefully, and with increasing pleasure, from all angles. "there is nothing extraordinary about this stone," a friend remarked, "what peculiarity do you notice?" "what do i notice?" michelangelo answered, "i see an angel within this stone, and i must release it." it may be that our lord jesus did not exactly see an angel within this woman--nor does he see one in you and in me--but beneath the rough surface he saw a human soul created in the image of his heavenly father and after his likeness, and he said: i will release it! * * * * * _by looking at the undertow in the depths of the soul and by listening to the heaving sighs from within, you will be enabled to look at your fellow-beings with ever-increasing interest and--delight! what about the devil? what about the devil?--that is an exceedingly difficult problem to the wiseacres of this world. recently a learned professor proclaimed from his speaker's chair that no single individual, no organization of any kind, could rid the world of the devil, but time would--time would most certainly get him away. and the assemblage applauded enthusiastically from out the joy of their hearts. most likely they did not stop to think at that moment that time would undo them long before it could ever undo the devil. that may, however, be excused, for learned people often are somewhat thoughtless--and all these were scholars. or was the charity of the auditors so far-seeing that it rejoiced in behalf of generations yet unborn? well, who knows--for that kind of people also possess a heart. be that as it may. but, concerning the devil--whether a devil actually exists or merely is a creature of imagination; whether he is a really dangerous foe or simply a phantom from the days of yore--i must try to make clear to myself, and you must do likewise. it doesn't appear to be so difficult, after all, when the matter is approached without any frills and furbelows. i look at it this way: i have been baptized to renounce the devil, all his works and all his ways. that was told me at the moment of my baptism. i affirmed it in order to be incorporated into the kingdom of god. jesus christ demands of me that i renounce the devil if i am to be his disciple. if, then, no devil existed, he who is himself the truth and the lord of the kingdom of truth, at the outset must expect of me that i affirm a lie--he whose own lips never knew untruth and deceit, would ask that i in order to become a part of his kingdom, renounce a devil who does not exist: that would not only be senseless: it is impossible! when my lord and saviour tells me to renounce the devil, then i do believe a devil exists, and that my own welfare now and hereafter makes it necessary that i keep away from him. _in this matter, the word of my lord sufficeth for me!_ it is my faith in this which relieves me of many of those speculative difficulties which entangle so many others. i must choose between the word of my lord and the speculative mind of man. to me the choice offers no difficulties at all. i choose the word of my lord--no matter whether or not the scornful laughter sounds derisively from the other side. and let me say it once more: the word of my lord sufficeth. when, then, i meet some of those people who claim there is no devil; that all talk about the devil is a relic of ancient superstition, i simply say: you must excuse me, but in this matter i abide by the word of the lord. i cannot ignore his word and accept yours, and, furthermore, i have _no reason whatever_ for doing so; i have never yet found that i could not depend upon his word. and if i then consider the ways of the world, as they are--then i most certainly am not tempted to abandon the covenant of my baptism. the works of the devil are apparent to all: murder, adultery, theft, robbery, fraud, deceit, drunkenness, etc. many may say that these are the doings of evil people, but if we look a little closer at these evil people we will find that back of it all is one whose thralls these poor creatures are. if i try to look into the spiritual anguish of these pitiful individuals, i am not tempted to give up my belief in the devil. to be sure, i do not behold him physically, but i see his works. to me it seems to be as when i see a building is being erected. i ask: who is building this place? i am told: it is mr. smith who builds this place, and we are his laborers. i do not see mr. smith himself, but i notice that his work goes on, and i do not doubt that he exists. i see his laborers working, some sing and joke while others are sullen and indifferent just because it happens that they have entered into an agreement which for the time being makes them realize their obligations to mr. smith. if the latter could only find a way to wriggle out of that relationship, they would feel unspeakably relieved to do so. thus i see the works of the devil in the life of man, and by seeing them i find no reason to doubt his existence. the evil people are his laborers. they work in order to complete his job--some singing and joking, others under compulsion. it is clear that especially the latter are the slaves of the devil. by looking into the spiritual life of these miserable ones i find confirmation of the word of my lord that there is a devil that must needs be renounced if we are to live contentedly. it is from him our generation needs relief, and not from all that ancient gossip about him. i said a little while ago that the word of the lord sufficeth for me in this matter, and that is true. it does not correspond with the theories of the wiseacres, but with life itself. from the learned infidels the cry is sounded: it isn't true. but from the depths of real human life we hear the sigh: _we are sorely troubled by the devil! two episodes of the civil war . _looting those who fell_ the battle was over. darkness expanded its misty veil over the battle-field. victory had been won by neither army, but there were left a large number of dead and wounded. the ambulances were sent out with help for those who fell in the fight. where moans were heard, they went, raised the wounded limb a trifle, asked sympathetic questions and bandaged the wound as well as could be done in a hurry; then the wounded were taken to the field hospital. but if one looked more carefully, other figures were discernible; half hidden by the darkness they sneaked about among the wounded and dead. who were they? it didn't look as though they heeded the moans of the dying, nor did they raise them to carry them off to the field hospital. what were they doing, then? _they were plundering those who fell_, taking from them their little articles of value: a hideous thing, truly a deed of darkness! who would have believed that anyone could have the heart to plunder the dying. you and i would not do such a thing. we become intensely indignant and disgusted when told of such heartlessness. "god, i thank thee, that i am not as the other men are, extortioners----" no, on that battlefield where the wounded lie, having been hit by shells and maimed by swords, we do not go in order to plunder and loot. that is true enough. but--alas, there is a "but" about it. the world is a huge battlefield. right and left we see about us the _wounded_ who are moaning and suffering from pain; they are sighing for just a little aid, a kind word, a gentle smile. they need succor--they need being taken to the hospital. they still have a remnant of the sense of honor left. there is a possibility that they may right themselves; that they may be able to qualify as good fighters in the next skirmish--perhaps to conquer where now they have suffered defeat. _but_ instead of the gentle smile, the kind word, and the little aid--we took away from them whatever was left and let them lie where they were. we deprived them of the last remnant of honor, extinguished the last faint glimmer of hope. the bruised reed was broken. the smoking flax was quenched. on life's vast battlefield you and i may, after all, have taken part in the plundering of the wounded; or we may have gone by just like the priest and the levite. at least we have not always done as did the samaritan: bound up their wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and brought them to an inn! old dr. bengel says: "i am kept constantly busy by reading proof upon myself." let us do likewise. then we will be better and better enabled to heed the moans of the wounded on the vast battlefield of life, and to bring them to the inn, to the church of the lord where there is healing for all wounds. this is our task toward the wounded, and it was that which was in the mind of jesus when he said: "go, and do thou likewise!" . _removed because of mischief_ during the civil war it became necessary to remove one of the officers serving under general sherman; "removed because of mischief" was the way it was entered upon the record. general o. o. howard succeeded him in command and continued to have charge of the unit until the end of the war. then the army arrived at washington, where a parade was to be held followed by disbanding. the day before the parade general sherman said to howard: "the political leaders demand of me that the officer whose place you took, resume his charge tomorrow and ride at the head of his unit in the parade, and i wish you would help me out of this predicament." "but it is my unit now, general," howard said, "and it is but fair that i ride at its head tomorrow." "yes, of course," general sherman answered, "but--are you a christian, howard?" "what do you mean by that?" howard asked astonished. "i mean that you can bear that disappointment and let him have the honor. you are a christian," sherman added; "well--what do you say?" like a brave officer, jealous of his honor, howard had anticipated this day with delight, but, after hesitating a moment, he said: "yes, looked at from that point of view, only one answer is possible: let him ride at the head of his old unit tomorrow!" "all right then," said sherman, "but you will report at headquarters tomorrow morning at o'clock." the next morning at the appointed hour howard reported that everything was arranged. the officer who had been removed because of mischief had resumed his old post. "very well," sherman answered, "then you ride by my side today." "i have no right to do that," howard replied. "it is an order," sherman answered smilingly. thus o. o. howard rode beside general sherman at the head of the entire army in the parade at washington--he who had renounced glory and right for the benefit of one who had forfeited both, so that the latter might _be honored_. "removed because of mischief." that might have been written upon the brow of adam when the portals of paradise were closed behind him. removed from the living god because of mischief--that _was_ the legend above the whole story of mankind until the fullness of time. removed because of mischief--from one another, from the respect of fellow-beings, from honor and enviable positions among men: that was the legend above the lives of so many--of him who had stolen money from his master's till; of him who had suffered a moral lapse, etc. but into the life of him who has been removed from god because of mischief one came and said: it is my will that you resume your old place of the child in the arms of his father. it is my will that you take part in the ride into the new jerusalem. i will share my rights with you and give you my glory. yes, thus speaks the son of the king of heaven in his church upon earth. this i have done for thee, jesus says. but then, when you go among those people who have been removed because of mischief from good positions or from the respect of their fellow-beings: how much of your glory and rights can you give to them? _you are a christian._ we ask, almost as surprised as o. o. howard: what do you mean by that, lord? too often, we ourselves think too little of it. but jesus sayeth: remember that you are a christian when you associate with those who have lost the respect of their fellow-beings. as a christian you must be able to sacrifice a little of your honor and your rights for their sake. to be a christian is not merely to be a child and to rest upon the arm of the father. _it is to make real the love of the father, in the steps of jesus christ, among those who have fallen by the wayside._ _you are a christian._ _are you?_ and one thing more. howard did not lose anything by relinquishing his glory and rights like a christian. far from it! he gained by it. he was placed beside the supreme commander at the head of the entire army. thus with us. when jesus demands of us that we as _christians_ shall bring sacrifices, then it is not for the purpose of causing us any _loss_, or to make us _advance_ something for which we will not be reimbursed, but simply to enable us to receive more from him. such advances he changes into an income for us. we will receive a hundredfold. we will be qualified to be at the front, and by his side we approach the goal. your words (mat. , ) "for by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." isn't this a strange way of speaking? if jesus had said: "by thy works thou shalt be justified, and by thy works thou shalt be condemned", then i would have immediately conceded that this was good common sense. actions are something tangible, something you can get the actual "feel" of, but words--why, they often are nothing but hot air. still jesus says: "by thy words shalt thou be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned"--so, i must accept that. when, then, i think of the words i have spoken, at home, in the church, in the midst of the congregation, i cannot conceal _to_ myself the fact that there were many empty words among them. not only that--there were also some mean words, and when they are to be measured by him who never sinned, and whose lips never knew deceit, then i must tell myself: there is enough right here to condemn you! and i am possessed with _fear_ and worry because of my own words. if i revert to the good words i may have spoken, it isn't much better. and still, i cannot say but that i doubtless have spoken some good words, and that they may have been of benefit to some. i am quite certain that i often have spoken good words at sick-beds, in the homes and in the church--words that were willingly listened to just because they were good words, that really did comfort those who were sick and had sorrowful souls--words that were something more than sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal--words that were inspired and filled with the warmth of my heart--words in which i myself rejoiced sincerely, and for which i could never sufficiently thank god that he gave me the grace to utter them. but, yet--in spite of all this--it does seem to me that when my words are to be judged by him who always spake the pure, the powerful, the pungent, and the perfect word--then mine will be found wanting. in other words: i _doubt_ that those words of mine were so faultless that he who is himself faultless, would consider me justified by my words. no, to the contrary--i must tell myself: thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting! thus i find myself placed between _fear_ and _doubt_--fear because of my evil words, and doubt about the faultlessness of my good words. what shall i do, then? shall i timidly withdraw from the words of the lord: "by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned"?--shall i attempt to forget them, imagine that they were not meant for me, have no bearing upon me--or shall i try to avoid them as some fearfully avoid cemeteries at the midnight hour? no, i cannot do that! i must have these strange words clear in my mind. i must work them through. to stand between fear and doubt, timidly withdrawing from the words of my lord! no, that cannot be possible. where shall i seek refuge? where shall i seek that explanation which reconciles me with the word of the lord, and which brings peace into my soul? i will seek refuge in the pledge of my baptism--as so many others have done in the hour of worry and distress. i let it pass upon my lips, and the word is: "i _renounce_ the devil and all his works and all his ways." but to renounce means that i break off from, separate myself from, and become a foe of, the evil one and all that is evil--also my own words. but can he, the fair judge, condemn me for that which i disavow and separate myself from, what i personally oppose? no, it is impossible! that cannot be! this gives me surcease. the fear of my evil words must vanish, and, thus unburdened, i go on. "i believe in god the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.... i believe in jesus christ his only son, our lord; who was conceived by the holy ghost, born of the virgin mary; suffered under pontius pilate, was crucified, dead and buried; he descended into hell; the third day he arose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven and sitteth on the right hand of god, the father almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.... i believe in the holy ghost; the holy christian church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting." the word of the apostles' creed is the word of faith. and what did i say? i _believe_! it may be feebly, alas, but nevertheless--with all its frailty the heart embraces the word of faith, and doubt vanishes before this word. almost astonished i ask myself: is it possible? is it possible that i who found myself placed between fear and doubt, conquer both by the word of faith? that word of faith has thus passed upon my lips, not like a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal, but as a _truth of the heart_. it was not a hollow saying, it was not a faulty word, and yet it was my own. it was given to me in the early morn of my life as a gift from god in my baptism. now it asserts itself in spite of all the evil, empty and faulty words i have spoken--reaches to the lord himself as an expression of the innermost life of my heart, and the answer of the lord to this word is: by thy words shalt thou be justified! thus, through the words of the lord i gained peace in my soul, and my heart bursts out its "praised be god!" behind the shield (eph. , ) paul is imprisoned at rome and is writing to "the saints which are at ephesus." he beholds christian life as one immense struggle--not against flesh and blood, that is, against the depraved elements in the life of mankind and the evil tendencies in man; no, back of flesh and blood are principalities and powers, a host of spirits trained in the wiles and the cunning of the devil, and exercising a tremendous power in the world, through evil persons. against these gigantic powers we must needs fight, and we must vanquish them. but we cannot do so by our own power. we must be "girt about with truth," must be clothed in "the whole armour of god." this is not an armour that can be forged from the steel within ourselves--although we say that with all due deference to bravery, shrewdness and wisdom; but in the great struggle against the powers of darkness we must be girt with something stronger. fortified with _our own_, we sustain wounds, but win no victory. the armour of god gives victory, but protects against wounds if we know how to use it rightly. but when paul describes the whole armour of god, he strongly emphasizes a particular part of it, for he says: "above all, taking the shield[a] of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." thus it is a question of making proper use of the shield rather than of the sword. the church of the lord has hitherto laid stress on the use of the sword, and therefore the result of the fight has often been a number of wounded souls, for the sword wounds, while the shield protects. it is said of our heathen forefathers that they knew how to _fight_ as well as how to _rest_ behind the shield. they knew how to grasp all the hostile arrows in their shield while they fought; when they had fought themselves weary or spent all their arrows, while the foe still had plenty of deadly arrows to hurl against them, they knew the art of taking a rest behind their shield in the midst of the shower of arrows. covered by the shield they gathered strength for the purpose of resuming the fight with axes and spears while the enemy uselessly wasted his supply of arrows. i wish sincerely that we possessed somewhat more of this ability of our forefathers to use the shield, to _fight and to rest behind the shield of faith, spiritually speaking_. that would make it possible for us to give battle the thunder of which would resound in the remotest corners of the earth, as in days of yore the song and the hammer strokes of our forefathers were heard in distant countries. then we would not use our fighting ability to plunder foreign shores, but to lead the fight against the spiritual powers of evil--to be in the front ranks during the fight that shall be fought from the sea to the ends of the earth, in which thousands must bleed because they have not learned how to use the shield of faith. _we shall make a stand against the wiles of the devil!_ if i am not very much mistaken by the signs of the age, the attacks on the church of the lord will during the present century become still more marked by diabolical cunning and cleverness than ever before. _the arrows_ will be sharpened with all the shrewdness of science, directed against us with cunning, glowing with a devilish hatred against everything that is of heavenly birth, and aims at heavenly goals. indecent jokes, cutting scorn and cleverly formulated inquiries will constitute a cloud of arrows which will darken the sun to many. they will be hurled against us through the means of literature and science, with violent haughtiness, with fierce hatred. and we--we have not that unconquerable courage which enables us to say with the hero of thermopylae: "so much the better--then we fight in the shade!" how shall we approach the struggle of the twentieth century? someone may say: we shall sharpen our arrows, make them pointed, and send them forth with shrewdness and wisdom. we shall use our common sense, meet the opponents on the battlefield of thought and cleverness, show them what is unenduring in the chimera of the atheists and what is depraved in the life without god. in the church of the lord we have men who are not inferior to our opponents in respect to cleverness and wisdom--indeed, we have, praised be god! but it does seem to me that many a valiant fighter will succumb in this kind of a struggle, and many plain-thinking christians may flee, as did the philistines in ancient days when their giant had fallen. all honor to those who defend and promote the kingdom of god by thought, by reasoning and by wisdom! but along that way we do not accomplish much more than to humbly admit that "stood we alone in our own might, our striving would be losing." more and more the shibboleth must be: "above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." learn how to fight, covered by the shield! that means: all your struggle must be based upon the words of faith, all your arguments must take these as their point of departure instead of using human sagacity and the tricks of interpretation; then you will be unconquerable. and if it does happen that you become weary in the fight against the wiles of the devil, or that your arrows are all spent while the foe has plenty, then do as our fathers did: take a rest behind the shield! cover yourself completely with the words of faith, then no hostile dart will reach you, far less wound you. on the contrary--you rest and gather strength while the foe exhausts himself uselessly, and "all the fiery darts of the wicked are quenched." this method of fighting is especially adapted to the people, and it is _the age of the people_, also in the church of our lord. the future does not require a great chieftain with a host of good-for-nothings behind him, but an army whose every individual is trained in the use of the shield of faith. when mr. moeller-anderson, a dane with a warm and faithful heart, a dane whose quiet ways his compatriots abroad do not forget--in the summer of made regular sailing trips from copenhagen to sweden for the sake of his health, it happened one day aboard the vessel that some scoffers wished to have fun with him. they may have thought that it would be an easy matter to subdue him. they, therefore, started a conversation with him, but soon their speech changed to scoffing and witty questions, daring attacks upon christianity. then mr. moeller-anderson replied: "i don't know how that all may be, and i cannot answer you, but if you wish to know what my faith is, then i will confess my faith through the apostles' creed before you right here!" _the scoffers had nothing more to say!_ what had mr. moeller-anderson done which made them silent? had he told them a striking joke which could not be commented upon, or had he stated a cleverly formulated truth which they could not resist? no, he rested behind the shield and the scoffers realized that _he was protected_. you christian man and woman from the everyday walks of life--when you meet the scoffers, then don't try to find clever thoughts with which to defend christianity, as though that were your way to victory. in that case it would merely become a question as to which side was supported by the greatest wisdom, the most cleverly pointed shrewdness. the great struggle of the world is the _struggle of faith_, and it must by no means be changed into a chaos of personal trickery and clever stratagems. above all, grasp the shield of faith instead of resorting to your own wisdom and cleverness. say your creed plainly and simply, you mother of a child, you master of the home, you young man and woman among your chums, when you meet the devil and his wiles in the form of clever questions formulated so as to entangle you in self-contradictions--catch you in the net of words as formerly the pharisees and the herodians tried to catch jesus asking: is it lawful to give tribute unto cæsar? you often hear it said: you claim that god loveth mankind: but why, then, does _he_ let some suffer in all eternity? or, you claim that you have a good father in heaven who can do everything: how is it, then, that he lets his children suffer distress on earth? etc.--say it plainly and simply: well, i can't answer questions like these, for i do not see through all these things, but if you want to know what my faith is regarding salvation, then i will confess my creed right here before you! that's to rest behind the shield, and you will feel how blissful that is compared with the fight by wisdom and reasoning in which there is the fear of being wounded and vanquished, and of rendering harm unto christianity by attempting an unsuccessful defence. _behind the shield of faith: there is victory both when you fight and when you rest!_ paul was not afraid of fighting. neither must we be. but that fight which gives victory without wounds, without one painful sensation to limit the joy of victory, must be directed from a _covered position_. and the agility necessary to enable one to seek cover behind the shield of faith is obtained only by _daily training_. therefore, train yourself every morning to protect yourself by the words of faith before going to your work and fight your fight; and in the evening when you lie down to rest, you must train yourself so that in fight as well as during the lull, you can be covered by the shield of faith; then you will conquer the wiles of the devil, and his fiery darts will not wound you. thus i consider it essential for the church of the lord in the twentieth century that it learns how to use the shield rightly whether in fight or at rest. the _struggle_ of the church will then result in a greater victory and in fewer wounds than during the last century, and its _rest_ will become increasingly beneficent and strengthening while its restlessness will become less nervous and less strength-consuming. wonder if the time has not come when the church, driven by inner friction and by enemies from without, will listen readily to the apostolic warning: "above all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." i look forward to the day when the apostles' creed becomes the _universal slogan_ for all christian organizations. then the church of the lord will march forward to victory. footnote: [a] the apostles' creed. love me--and tell me so an english bishop was traveling in india to inspect the mission work, and when his journey was completed, a farewell gathering was held in his honor. on this occasion the bishop spoke on the words: "love me--and tell me so!" he had often asked himself whether his congregation at home really loved him. he thought it did; but sometimes he couldn't help wishing: if they only would say so! now he wished to say, by way of a parting greeting, to the christians: love your ministers, and let them know that you do! they need your love, and they need to be told that you actually do love them. this little speech reached england before the bishop arrived there. when, upon reaching home, his congregation received him with a banquet. on the wall of the hall, just opposite the main entrance door, was an inscription in large letters ornamented by leaves and flowers: "we love you, and we are saying so." that was the first thing the bishop saw, and he rejoiced. love me, and tell me so! that's the cry from thousands of souls yearning for love, and where the cry finds an answer the heart rejoices. where no answer comes, life will be utterly miserable. once upon a time a wealthy woman met a poor orphan who looked imploringly at her. "what do you want me to give you?" she asked. "o, just like me a little bit!" the orphan answered. o, just love me just a little bit! i have seen that prayer where one should least expect it--i have read it in the eyes of a mother when they rested upon her grown-up daughter. she had indeed grown, was taller even than her mother. and then she had received an _education_--mother surely could be proud of such a big and fine girl who had learned so much! but a mother's heart finds no sustenance in mere pride. it required delight in the daughter--and there is delight only in love. but the girl went about so _fine_ and _big_ and _cold_ while the mother, even as the poor orphan, implored, o, love me just a little bit! all you nice and big children: remember that mother and father need your love! love them--and tell them that you do! you can tell them in a number of ways, and it will be rewarded, for in love there is a world of joy. love me--and tell me so! o, love me just a little bit! i have read that prayer in the eyes of a wife: her husband was a man in whom she surely could take delight. he was efficient; everybody admired him, women especially, and he seemed to like everybody. indeed, she could be proud of such a husband! there were plenty of women who envied her and wished themselves in her place. and--how beautifully he could speak of domestic love--women were deeply touched, and their eyes moistened when he did so. o, if they only had such a husband--but such a one had not fallen to their lot! he had plenty of smiles and kind words and love for everybody else--only not for his wife who sat at home. hard-hearted, frigid and haughty he passed her by when she sat with the baby on her knee, with despair penetrating all her features, and the one prayer was flaming in her eye: o, love me just a little bit--just a little bit, o, please do! love me--and tell me so! o, love me just a little bit! that has been written in the eye of ever so many poor and forlorn human beings--especially among those who seemed to have become sadly superfluous in the busy life of the world. now and then i have heard just such people say, with a strange mingling of wistfulness and joy vibrating in their voice: to think that the minister would call upon me! nobody else ever comes here. nobody cares about me any more! thus many a man or woman has been placed in that miserable kind of solitude in the midst of throbbing life. nobody cares about me. love me--and tell me so! o, love me just a little bit, please! that's the cry from the depth of their hearts, but it is uttered as though in some limitless desert: no answering sound is heard--there is no sign that anyone cares for them. this is heartrending. yes, that is true. but if these lines of mine might reach some such poor soul, then i would say: it isn't quite as bad as this. let your yearning for love soar upward to that god who listens to the sighs of the heart of dust, and then you will hear the response: i love you--and i tell you that i do. i have told you so through my only begotten son: "for god so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." _this has been said to mankind plainly enough._ and these plain words are not merely written in the leaves of the book of books. they are inscribed in the very life of mankind with the blood of the only begotten son. such words are not merely for the happy world surrounding you. it means _you_--just exactly you who are yearning for love: for your sake these words have been spoken. but we who are more fortunately situated--we who enjoy the love of god and of our fellow-beings, and who, in return, love those in our homes, in our circle of acquaintances and in the church--let us tell one another about it in a good and nice way. so much joy of love is lost--just because it finds no expression. for this reason so many gradually come to doubt that they really are being loved. the congregation wrote it on the wall of the festival hall, ornamented with leaves and flowers. it went out of its way to say it in just such a way as to make its old bishop feel deeply delighted. it pays to exert yourself in this way. let it be written with large letters between minister and congregation, between man and wife, between parents and children--yes, let it be written with large letters--and wind about them the leaves of the forest, the flowers of the field--everywhere: we love you, and we tell you so! then our lives will become rich with the joy of love. to bear burdens (gal. , ) "bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of christ," paul says. "no, thank you!" you say, "i have quite enough in taking care of my own burdens. if i am to be troubled with those of others in addition, life will be intolerable." nevertheless--do you think paul speaks aimlessly? or isn't it rather the case that there is something of _relief_ in bearing burdens for others--something of a _gain_? think of a wheat field: one straw stands close beside the other. the wind-storm sweeps the field. the wheat bends down in billowy undulations under the heavy pressure of the wind, but rights itself stronger than ever before. the close-standing straws bore the pressure together. then the wheat is harvested. a few straws are left standing. the wind again sweeps across the field, the lonely straws bend down to the soil--and lie there. they are broken. singly, they could not resist the pressure of the storm. thus in the life of mankind. great burdens can be shouldered with ease when shouldered in common while the smaller burdens may crush and destroy those who stand all alone. there is relief in bearing burdens for others. but you ask: dare i, a single individual, try to shoulder the burdens in my home, in the church? suppose that in one or more instances i were the only one to do so. the others left it all to me, although they had the same obligations that i have--what then? will i accomplish anything but being crushed under the weight of the burdens? how about jesus christ when he, _all alone_, bore the sin of mankind? he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, as the prophet had foreseen. but when he who was so strong, was wounded and crushed under the weight of the burdens--what will happen to me, then, when i shoulder the burdens of others? i cannot do so cheerfully and courageously and expect a satisfactory result. rather i must flee timidly away from the burdens by recalling what happened to our lord jesus christ. yes, if that was all that may be said about jesus that he was "wounded and bruised" when he, out of the depths of his love, shouldered our burdens, then no doubt you are right. then there is no prospect that you will do better. but that isn't all. after having been wounded and bruised under the weight of the burdens, bent to the ground, indeed, bent in death, he arose with the mark of victory upon his brow, and with _peace_ and _healing_ for us. yea, _peace and healing_! that was the last, the ultimate result. and it is the law in his church that wherever we shoulder one another's burdens, we shall find peace and healing. we may be wounded, indeed crushed, under the heavy pressure of those burdens. we may be bent down into the dust, but that is not the last, the ultimate result. it is peace and healing. thus it is not only a _relief_ to bear one another's burdens; it is the highway to peace and healing. we can extract this blessed fruit from out of the burdens. how splendid to be able to bear the burdens of everyday life with and for one another and to gain peace and healing for those who are timid and bruised. _this is the last and final result of bearing one another's burden in the name of jesus. be steadfast in prayer! . _a gain and a protection_ o pray for me! that is one of the cries that frequently come to us from the sick and the dying--sometimes because they have not themselves learned how to pray in the days that passed, but always with the consciousness that prayer is _needed_. _pray!_ sayeth our lord jesus christ, for it is _helpful_ to pray. and on the background of nearly two thousand years of actual experience his church responds: indeed, it is helpful to pray! "ask, and it shall be given you ... for everyone that asketh receiveth.... or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? if ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?" (mat. , , etc.) the prayer is a _gain_ to us since we have such a generous father who will not refuse us anything good, and who has it in his power to give us all. but the prayer also is a _protection_. "watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation" (mat. , ). the ability to be absorbed in prayer is a protection against temptations, and in the prayer strength and fortitude are secured with which to resist the temptations. in complete realization of this the apostles continuously implore us to pray. make the prayer a regular and constant feature of your daily life. don't let it be a matter of chance whether you offer a prayer or not. don't let every insignificant hindrance prevent you from saying your prayer. many of the ancient leaders in the church of the lord set aside several hours a day, parts of their most propitious working time, for praying--and considered that a gain. thus luther often devoted three or four hours a day to constant prayer. you may not accomplish anything like that, but you are able, nevertheless, to give the prayer a fixed and constant place on your schedule for every day, and then you will experience that it is a gain and a protection; for "prayer brings down from heaven the peace of god; it brings down the strength to love and revere him; it brings down from above relief in the hour of distress, and it brings infinite comfort at the moment of death." . _what mother taught me_ a chaplain at one of our insane asylums related the following: one day when he had been preaching a sermon to these poor, insane people among whom only a few were able to make out what he said, one of them came to him and announced: "i, too, can pray!" the chaplain stopped surprised, because the man was completely an idiot. he had forgotten everything--his name, his age, his home; about these things he could give no information whatever. somewhat doubtfully, the chaplain asked him: "what can you pray?" the poor fellow righted himself a little and answered: "what mother taught me"; he then folded his hands and spoke the following verse with perfect ease, and without mistakes: lord jesus, who dost love me, o, spread thy wings above me, and shield me from alarm. everything was forgotten. not one event in his life was he able to recall in his memory. everything had been left out of his soul, out of his memory--only not that one prayer his mother had taught him. i have myself had a somewhat similar experience. it was a dane who was not wholly demented--rather what is known in the vernacular as "crazy"--and a little more. he never did any harm, and for that reason he was sent to the poor-house instead of to an insane asylum. whenever he found an opportunity, he made his escape, and once in a while he came to my home--once at eventide and he was then allowed to stay overnight. in the evening he sat plucking at his clothes just like a child, and he then said: "i'm clean enough, all right." a little later he said: "i ain't forgotten how to pray--want to hear me?" then he folded his hands and spoke two little verses of the kind a mother teaches her very young child. these he could remember. it was the same thing over again: what mother taught me. remember this, you christian mothers! . _the evening prayer: a protection_ above all, it is important to give the evening prayer a fixed and permanent place in the daily schedule of our life. when we intend to pray for something, the time at which it is done may be relatively immaterial, but if we think of the prayer as a _protection_, the evening prayer goes before anything else. and why? because it requires the peaceful quiet of eventide--and the same thing is true about all kinds of silly fun and of evil. in point of time, the evening prayer meets with the tempting voices of wickedness that sound with the greatest irresistance in the darkness. a decisive battle thus takes place between the tempting voices of wickedness and the evening prayer--a battle about time; it is a whether--or, for to divide the time in twain in this matter is impossible. it is not possible to devote one evening hour to wickedness, and the other to prayer. then, if the evening prayer is given a regular place in one's everyday life, it is a protection against the temptations. therefore the evening prayer should be a part of the child's life even 'way back in the days of the cradle. and therefore we praise the fact that the evening prayer is just that prayer which it is easiest for a mother to make a part of the everyday life of the child; this is not a mere accident, but is due to that grace of god which descends upon christian mothers. say the evening prayer with your child, and for your child, every evening when you tuck him or her into bed--do it even before the babbling voice of the child is able to say the words after you--and do never miss an evening! the evening prayer which has thus been implanted in the heart of the child because of the privilege and the intense love granted to the mother-heart, and which is to be protected by that same love throughout the years to come, will prove to be a real protection to the child during its earliest youth, which is just the very time when it stands most in need of _protection_ because the tempting voices of wickedness resound with the greatest power in its own breast. for that reason the time of youth is that period of our life when we stand most in need of the evening prayer. loving parents often are somewhat worried when they discuss the day that the children must go _out into the world_. now and then a tear drops from the mother's eye when she thinks that her half-grown boy or girl soon must leave home. it is not because of worry for their future, economically speaking, nor always because of the thought of separation--but it is the fear; how will they come out? will they listen to the voices of wickedness, find evil associates, forget both god and their parents so that they rather seek the _saloon and the dance hall_ than the home of their childhood? of course, you may say: it won't be as bad as that! and, praised be god--these things do not happen in a great many instances. but the danger is there, and the temptations are ever present--and many a young man and woman who during childhood were the very joy and pride of their parents, succumb to the temptations and suffer during their youth such defeat that recovery is possible only much later in life or--never: you suffer for that through many years which only was briefest delight---- but to comfort such parents let me say: let the evening prayer find a fixed and permanent place in the life of the child from the very days of the cradle--then you have built a fortification about it which will guard and protect it at all times because it has become an essential part of itself. the evening prayer of its mother is the last thing the child ever forgets--that which it is most difficult to part with. it does not yield to a little push or two, but will powerfully assert its right to occupy the seat of honor in the heart, and it will insist that the quiet hours of eventide belong to it by right. and even though the child throw its mother's evening prayer overboard in order better to heed the tempting voices of wickedness, he or she will be conscious of restlessness and uneasiness in the depths of the heart, until that demand is met which the evening prayer makes. yes, even though the child may time and again scoff haughtily at the evening prayer and thus apparently get far enough to push it away with all the silly "nerve" of the age of adolescence and to conquer it--that time will come, is sure to come, when the memory of it and the memory of mother awakens in the child's heart and revives in loving remembrance so that the evening prayer resumes its permanent place in the life of the child. the memory of mother will be a treasure to the child who only then realizes that the evening prayer proved a protection against the plentifulness of temptations. she will receive the gratitude shown her with child-like reverence, because she implanted the evening prayer in the heart of the child. that was one of the mother's deeds of love that became the greatest blessing throughout the storm-tossed time of youth. when everything else sinks into forgetfulness, it will still be remembered "what mother taught me"! . _the morning prayer: a gain_ it is a little more difficult to give the morning prayer a fixed place in our life than the evening prayer, because in the morning we feel strengthened by sleep and are in a hurry to get to our work. but if we thus seem to think that we cannot find time to say a morning prayer, let us remember the old proverb: "in prayer is no delay," and if there are other reasons--petty things that have hindered us--then let us summon our will and say to ourselves: _i want to!_ the morning prayer is henceforth to have a fixed place in my everyday life and in my home, and i think everything will go well: in prayer is no delay. just as the evening prayer because of the significance of time is particularly adapted as a _protection_ against temptation, so the morning prayer for a corresponding reason is especially fit to prove a _gain_ to us. when we arise in the morning, the day is facing us, and it is of importance that we approach our work with willingness and high hopes--whether the work be that of the intellectual or the manual laborer. but, how often is it not the case that we approach our work slovenly and sourly--with the consequence that we feel it a burden and a difficulty. we do not discover that rest and that joy in the work which god bestowed upon it. the work becomes nothing but unwillingly done toil, and the day seems long and weary. by way of suggesting a preventive i know of nothing better than to start the day with a morning prayer. it stimulates the willingness to work, to begin the day by thanking god for the night that has vanished, and to pray for blessing upon the work of the coming day. it imparts joy of living. it makes it easier to discover the rest and the delight in work, no matter how exerting that may be. how often is it not the case that the man who is ready to go to his work, gets up silently and grouchingly, washes himself and sits down at the table: breakfast is not yet ready, and his wife gets for this reason some nagging reproaches. at last the meal is served. silently the man partakes of his breakfast, takes his hat and his dinnerpail, remarks sulkily that now he is going--and goes. such a start promises a cheerless day for both man and wife. he goes to his shop or field with head bent low and his mind heavy while his wife takes up her duties at home--without cheer. how different would not the _day_ and the _work_ be for the man and wife if they could unite in a little morning prayer and part with the words of the poet upon their lips: then gladly we go each to his work relying upon god's grace. thus gaining strength to be of use, as god wills in the very best way we know. and that applies to all of us. we all need to be told that we should go to our work with more gladness, rely more upon the grace of god, get more and more strength and joy wherewith to do our work so as to please god. to this end, the morning prayer is an incentive, and that is why i consider it a _gain_. just as the time of youth is the period when we stand most in need of the evening prayer because the temptations then are the strongest and meet with least resistance on our part, so we need the morning prayer the most at the time of maturity because it then is of particular importance that we ----gain strength to be of use, as god wills, in the very best way we know. this does not mean that there is any time in our lives that we do not need the evening prayer as well as the morning prayer. indeed, we need both throughout our entire life, for we are always in want of protection against temptations, always in need of gaining increasing joy of living and happiness. therefore, let us give both a fixed and permanent place in our everyday life and thus try to become "steadfast in prayer." and in that steadfast prayer _the apostles' creed_ and _the lord's prayer_ must be absorbed as an inseparable part. zacchÆus . _to be home by oneself_ "and, behold, there was a man named zacchæus, which was the chief among the publicans, and he was rich." consequently he must have been a happy man, many would think, for the conditions of happiness are riches and prominent positions. but zacchæus was no happy man. he may, of course, have experienced a certain degree of delight or happiness while he was so busily occupied in making money and in forging ahead until he reached the very top of the publicans' ladder; now, however, when he had accomplished all that--he was not happy, at all. how could that be? i believe at that time perhaps he _had lived his life outside himself, as it were, and been wholly absorbed by his official duties_. but now that he found time to be home by himself, and to be occupied with the inner world of his soul, he heard in there an accusing voice which told him: _you are a sinful man, zacchæus!_ and the man who is sinful, is not happy. what should he do? he might devote himself once more to the _mania for gathering wealth_, might thrust himself energetically back into the work. or he might devote himself to the merry _life of society_--seek pleasures, the remedy which the world offers to those who are afflicted with wounded souls. but in both cases he would once more be forced to live his life outside himself. he did not like that. it would be too much like taking flight from oneself. but there was a third way--_that of the repenting sinner_. he chose that. people referred to him by calling him a _sinful man_, and sighingly he had to admit that the people were right. he understood that now since he was home by himself--o, could but his sin be stricken out! now there was this man, jesus of nazareth! wasn't he the same one whom john the baptist had spoken of as the lamb of god, which taketh away the sin of the world? and was not he the same one who had said to a poor fellow sick of the palsy: "son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee!" if he might only see him! suddenly streets resounded with the cry: jesus of nazareth is coming! zacchæus got busy, ran on ahead and climbed unto a tree. hidden by the dense leafage there, he would have a chance of seeing jesus--why, he is coming right there--he actually stops at the tree, looks up, sees him, and says: "zacchæus, make haste, and come down; for today i must abide by thy house!" and he made haste, and came down, and received him joyfully. and when they saw it, they all murmured, saying that he was gone to be guest with a man that is a sinner. but zacchæus stood, and said unto the lord: behold, lord, the half of my goods i give to the poor, and if i have taken anything from any man by false accusation, i restore him fourfold. and jesus said unto him: this day is salvation come to this house, forsomuch as he also is a son of abraham. for the son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. he was son of abraham! * * * * * as abraham had learned how to be home by himself and to say, "i am but dust and ashes"--thus zacchæus had come home to himself when he realized that he was a sinner. and as abraham was willing to sacrifice his son, his heart's treasure, thus zacchæus had come to the point where he was willing to sacrifice half of what was his--that dear, dear property which his heart had loved so fervently and to which it had been attached for many years. that had been the most precious treasure of his heart. _to be home by oneself humbles._ _to live outside oneself makes haughty_, and god is displeased with those who are haughty while he bestows his grace on those who are humble. * * * * * "for today i must abide by thy house," jesus says. why? because zacchæus could be found at home. jesus always knocks on the doors of those hearts where he knows he finds someone at home. he must abide there. to the men of our own age the danger of living outside themselves in their work and business, is great. our age suffers from a tension which was not known in bygone days. if a man is to surge ahead, he must let his business absorb his entire strength. therefore, it is so difficult for jesus to find men at home when he knocks at the door of their heart, and therefore so few men are to be found in the church on the lord's day. women are not in the same measure tempted to live their lives outside themselves. but zacchæus stands like one who admonishes the man of our age: _try to be at home by yourself, in your own soul. that is the road you must wander if you are to find happiness._ . _all forgiven--nothing in vain_ "this day is salvation come to this house." to zacchæus this means: _your sin has been forgiven--all has been stricken out_. rev. mr. funcke relates how he on a certain occasion called upon dr. kögel in berlin--a man who was paralyzed and unable to move. he pitied dr. kögel--regretted that this man, formerly so stately and erect, should sit thus crouching, but dr. kögel said: "rejoice with me--god hath forgiven all my sins!" in a cemetery in southern germany there are two tombstones with strange inscriptions; one reads: _forgiven!_ and the other, _in vain!_ beneath the former rests the dust of a woman who through her extraordinary beauty fascinated a number of admirers. they seduced her, made her run away from her husband and children, and when once she had entered the life of immorality, she went swiftly down the grade. she developed into a criminal and was imprisoned. in the penitentiary she came home by herself, and here jesus found her. when she left the institution, she went back to her husband and children and proved a blessing to her home; as a humble, christian woman she did not spare herself for the sake of those whom she loved. but when death drew near, she asked them to inscribe upon her tombstone that one word, forgiven! this word was a world to her, was everything. her sin forgiven by god, forgiven by mankind. yes, when _everything is forgiven_ we can rejoice at being home by ourselves. but we need still one thing more before our joy is perfect. we want to be told _that we have not lived in vain_. zacchæus knows how to appreciate salvation. in proof of his gratitude he gives half of his goods to the poor. it is more blessed to give than to receive. formerly he had felt a certain joy whenever he could add a sum of a hundred to his fortune--but how paltry that joy was compared to the joy of giving! that could not possibly have been done in vain. jesus said to his disciples: and whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only, verily i say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward. no offering of thanks for salvation is in vain. it brings bliss. it will get its reward--from the greatest offer of thanks which we can afford to give, down to the smallest--a kind word, a friendly clasping of hands, a cup of cold water. nothing of all this shall be in vain. but he who lives outside himself, absorbed by the cravings for ever more riches, lives in vain even though he may become a millionaire. are you not in need of having written above all of your life and all your doings that one great word, _forgiven!_ and are you not in need of being assured that you have not _lived in vain_? you may not have been able to bring the magnificent sacrifices which the world lauds in the newspaper columns, and you may easily be led into the belief that you have lived in vain; but then you shall know that the lord who is the king of kings and the judge of all and everything, will reward also that which looks insignificant and small in the eyes of the world. nothing of that which you do as his disciple, is done in vain. above the life of the children of the world one might place the inscription: _nothing forgiven--everything in vain!_ above the lives of christians: _everything forgiven--nothing in vain_. isn't that so, then: christians have glorious days! _what terms do you choose?_ . _during the following days_ it was a day of joy to zacchæus when jesus entered his house. but how were the following days? undoubtedly there were days when the old greediness tempted him again. when the people of israel in a miraculous way had been helped across the red sea, they were saved from the armed hosts of the egyptians, but not from their plagues. the egyptian soldiers had been drowned in the waves of the red sea, but the egyptian temptations accompanied israel across the sea and made the wanderings in the desert beset with hardships and difficulties. indeed, they often, in their worldly hearts, reverted to the thought: _would it not, after all, have been better to return and to partake of the plentiful provisions of egypt than to fight their way laboriously onward to the promised land?_ likewise the tempter undoubtedly has often whispered to zacchæus: after all, wouldn't it have been wiser to _gather money than to give it away_ as an offering in return for salvation? but then zacchæus in his mind reverted to that great day when jesus for the first time was a guest in his house, and his thoughts have lived that day over and over again--no, never was i as happy as on the day when i gave half of my goods to the poor, and never have i been able to make as many people happy as on that day. the offering had not been given in vain. so the old greediness had to yield to the benevolent impulse. but that very same thought may come to you and me: wouldn't it, after all, be wiser to get a lot of money together than to give it away in the name of the lord to mission work, to churches and schools, to the poor, the sick and the suffering? no! and once again: no! for that person in whose heart greediness has triumphed, has lived in vain even though he may have gathered thousands of dollars. he has contributed to the increase of the _lifeless capital of mankind, but not to its joy of living, to its happiness_. but he or she who brings offerings in the name of jesus, increases the joy of living and happiness of mankind by just that much. perhaps he has struggled along laboriously to reach the promised land of joy and happiness. his life has attained a meaning both to himself and to others--and he has not lived in vain. the march of events (lu. , ) "abide with us; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent." thus the two disciples spoke to jesus in the afternoon of easter sunday when they were at the village called emmaus. the march of events on good friday had excited them greatly: should really the powers of evil vanquish even him of whom they had expected that he would redeem israel? this thought was so utterly distressing. and what would happen to themselves? for also within their hearts evil had a firm hold, and they were not able to conquer it. thinking along these lines the two disciples walked toward emmaus. it was as though the heart would be crushed under the weight of the events, but then jesus came, and he told them that the march of events was not a series of sad and distressing _chances_. it behooved christ to suffer and then to assume his glory. this was felt as a relief. was this, too, _planned_ by the god of israel? they were not quite able to comprehend it. neither did they know who was speaking to them; but when they were at emmaus and he made as if to go on, they implored him: "abide with us; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent!" it was such a comfort to listen to his words. in them was that healing power which crushed hearts needed--o, would he but tarry with them! so he went inside with them, and when he broke the bread, their eyes were opened, and they saw it was jesus himself--that very same jesus whom they had believed perished under the burden of the events of good friday. then they did rejoice. * * * * * yes, lord, abide with us; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent! let us first of all think of our own _life-day_. none of us knows how nigh is the evening. we may be near the final hour, both you and i, even though our hair as yet has no silver tinge. and if we, with this possibility in view, review the march of events in our own lives, we see much which we would like to change--if we but could. how often have not the powers of evil been victorious in our lives, as they were on that good friday! that thought grips the heart wistfully. and a little way ahead: that dark power death--"the difficult death" as a modern writer has said. o, how intensely we wish that so many things could be thought over and lived over once more! but when we thus review the march of events in our own life, we sigh: "hearest thou also us, thou son of grace!" for the only one who can relieve our suffering is jesus christ; his abiding by us as the _son of grace_ is the great surcease, for he comes from heaven with grace enough with which to cover all our shortcomings, all our sins, and with healing for all those wounds which have been inflicted upon us in the course of the march of events. it is, indeed, a blessing to know that just what we are yearning for from the very depth of our soul is what he rejoices most in giving us. we shall not pray in vain. but it was not only what we had thought and what we had done. there was so much in the march of events which was sad and incomprehensible. was that an evil power which from without, by chance, disrupted our life? was it a series of happenings without aim, without meaning? in that case we stand in need of listening to the words of jesus: it behooves you to suffer this, and then to enter into my glory. the saddest events in our earthly life are like dark viaducts which lead us forward to glory. they, too, lead us to salvation. it is relieving when this becomes quite clear to us. we feel like the disciples when listening to the words of the lord: there is comfort and healing in them. and then we can rejoice even though it is toward evening. we have no fear, we shudder not, at the thought that _the end of the day_ is drawing nigh--for that draws us closer to the glory, and death will be the last dark passage through which we must wend our way. but if we look round about us it seems to me that it is toward evening for _this world_. the end of the long day of the life of the world is drawing nigh, and by the words of the lord we know that the march of events in the last days will not be cheerful for the christians. the powers of evil shall arise against the lord and his church, just as they did during that easter week, and they will unite in one final outburst of desperate strength for the purpose of conquering. then it will be seen decisively once more that the church is fighting principalities and powers, the masters of the world, and the spiritual hosts under the sky. the bow will be bent for this final struggle--and the world already now is singing a hymn of victory. what shall we do? we can change the march of events as little as could those early disciples. we may try a struggle as did peter at gethsemane--may perhaps even inflict a small wound on someone, but in our use of the sword there is no prospect of victory. we must have him with us who on that shrove thursday spoke to the henchmen of wickedness with such might that they fell to the ground at the very sound of his words. therefore, we are in need of praying, abide with us, lord, not only as the son of grace, but as the _lord of strength_--indeed, as the lord of strength we need him when we survey the march of events in the world. as little as at that time is he now powerless. but as it behooved him to suffer these things and then enter into glory, so it also behooves his church during the last ages to bear those sufferings which the march of events carries in its wake, and then enter into glory; but, the lord of strength will shorten those last days (mat. , ). here it is once more true that these events are not so many sad accidents and painful happenings of chance without aim or meaning. no, they, too, must be made to serve the reign of the lord, and to help the church on its road to glory. _but only the lord of strength is able to make the events work together in unison, under all circumstances, for the purpose of our sanctification._ only he can make dusk of the evening change into dawn for his church. therefore, we pray: "abide with us; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent." yea, abidest thou with us as the _son of grace_ and as _the lord of strength_ during the march of events, and assurest thou us more and more that no one is able to tear us away from thy hand! assurest us that even the very darkest, the most distressing events, whether they affect the individual or the church in general, are merely dark passages which, through thy strength and grace, shall lead us forward to peace and joy, to eternal life and everlasting blessedness. then we shall rejoice during the march of events. the little while _its significance to the life of christians_ it was during easter week that jesus spoke the word about the little while in which the disciples were not to see him, and in which they would be brought to the very brink of despair while the world enjoyed itself in a fleeting exuberance of victory. the little while with its deep, its hopeless sorrow lasted for the disciples from good friday until easter sunday, and, forsooth, their weeping was heartrending, their plaints most gripping. jesus had been taken away from them, and they did not understand that it behooved him to suffer this and then to enter into glory; nor did they realize that they would themselves, in a little while, be mature, so as to win the world for the lord who now had been nailed onto a cross. darkness enveloped the earth for three hours so the rays of the sun were unable to penetrate it; but still denser was the spiritual darkness which had gathered about the disciples: there was no glimpse of light, no hope! for he who, as they had hoped, was to have redeemed israel, had breathed his last on the cross. the words of the lord were literally fulfilled upon them; they wept and lamented. at this moment they were unable to cling to the promise of the lord: "i will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice and your joy no man taketh from you." but were we able at this moment to see the apostles before us and to ask them: what do you think of the brief hours of despair in your lives--and especially of that which was the most sorrowful of all? i am certain they would answer: it was, indeed, a most significant "little while," and all the brief moments of despair throughout life have been so valuable that we could not have done without them. but if this were so, as far as the apostles were concerned, then it must be the same for us, and with this in view we will ask: _what, then, is the meaning of the distressful "little whiles" to the life of christians?_ those dark and burdensome hours when the tears moisten our eyes; and darkness gathers about our souls; those hours which we would rather be without but which we can so ill afford to dispense with. i might answer quite briefly thus: _it is during those moments that we are moulded by the hands of the father as the children of light!_ i know for a certainty that it was during just such moments that i became a servant of the lord wishing from out of the depth of my soul to find the way from the evil world of deceit and darkness homeward to the eternal abodes of light. therefore i thank the lord also for those dark hours which came into my life, and therefore i by no means praise that man or woman happy who has known no such moments, but i do think he or she who has struggled through them to peace and rejoicing is happy. in order to understand fully the meaning of the sad moments in the life of mankind, we will recall a few of the great men of god. david was named the man according to the heart of god. but was he made that when he reached the highest pinnacle of his power and glory and when he with regal strength ruled the subdued neighboring nations? i hardly think so. it was rather during those bitter hours when he, weeping and bare-foot, was forced to flee before his own son, or when he with his heart writhing in anguish prayed: "create in me a clean heart, o god, and renew a right spirit within me!" it was during such moments when he crouched in humiliation that he became disgusted with deceit and falsity, with the doings of darkness and the evil lust of the flesh. it was in such moments that he learned how to yearn from the depths of his heart for life itself: "where thoughts are pure and deeds are unblemished." when peter had denied his lord and saviour thrice in the courtyard of the high priest and was standing without, bitter and heavy tears rolled down his cheeks; never in his life had peter detested that denial as he did just then. how hideous it looked to him--to have denied jesus! undoubtedly he was thinking by himself: o, could i but find an opportunity of proclaiming him once more--then i should do it with all the strength and sincerity of my heart. or thomas! we know that after hearing the testimony of the resurrection of jesus he said: "except i shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, i will not believe." then, when he sees jesus again and hears his gently reproachful, "blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed"--how thomas must have been disgusted with his infidelity, and how he must have reproached himself because he had invited the evil power of doubt and unbelief into his soul. that was to happen nevermore! these heavy hours were changed into rejoicing for such men. and it is the testimony of all men and women who have been blessed by the special grace of god that such "little whiles" have meant much to the development of their lives by giving it _direction, depth and sincerity_. but how about you? have you had similar experiences? many of you probably will say: we know the hours of distress--we also know how deeply depressing they may be. even though we may not have wept and lamented, like the first disciples, because of the scorn and ridicule by the world, we often have shed tears that betrayed the presence of a wounded heart. but we did not go farther in our understanding of the meaning of the sorrowful moments. we have felt their pressure, but we have lost sight of their blessedness; we have been unable to discover the gain which they mean to our lives. look to the depths of your own soul and then tell me: do you not feel the hidden connection between the sin, as it had attained power in your soul, and the pressure of the brief, sorrow-laden moments? have you not also in such moments felt a truer, a more sincere and deeper disgust with the evil character of sin, than otherwise? did not that wish soar upward from the very bottom of your soul: would i were relieved of all that is evil so that i might live with "all my thoughts pure, and all my deeds unblemished"? but if you have felt this, then you already are somewhat conscious of the blessedness of the moments of distress, for that is what is asked of us first of all. without disgust with the evil being of sin we cannot renounce the devil and all his works and all his ways. but is that all to which the brief, sorrow-laden moments can guide and help us? no--the faith of the disciples was strengthened during the little while. it is true that their faith wavered in that while, and that it looked as though it would collapse, but _this was not the agony of death, but the pangs of birth_. hitherto they had been accustomed to seeing jesus and then believing in him. now _that_ faith was to be born which would cling to him through his word without seeing him. during the little while it looked as though jesus had suffered defeat and the world had conquered. but after the resurrection the disciples saw the meaning of it all: jesus had taken death upon himself not because he was vanquished but because the father, in his unfathomable wisdom and his eternal love, had thus decided it for the purpose of salvation. they knew now that no matter how discouraging the outlook might be, no matter how loudly the world might proclaim its victory--his word was to be depended upon. and firm in this faith they went out to conquer the world for jesus christ after having received the spirit from above. often it looked to them as it did on good friday, but instead of weeping and lamenting they sang hymns of praise to the lord fully convinced that he was the strongest. their faith had been strengthened so as to bear the resistance of the world, and rejoicing had taken up its everlasting abode in their hearts. _the little while had been the hour of birth of the faith which was to conquer all the world, and gain the eternal state of blessedness._ thus the little dark moments have a meaning in the lives of christians, aside from filling us with detestation of the evil ways of sin. they must be hours of birth through which our faith shall emerge renewed and invigorated until it appears as that firm faith which wins the great victory over the world. and if there is anything of which we stand in need, in addition to being filled with horror at the phantoms of deceit, the evil ways of darkness--it is the firm faith and the eternal joy of blessedness which give us strength to become more and more the children of god, immaculate before his face, and by which we can be easily recognized as children of light in a world darkened by sin. the world still rejoices and still--after a struggle of almost two thousand years--thinks it shall conquer the church of the lord. now and then we are told that in another hundred years christianity will be something entirely different, adjusted to the trend of thought--or that it will have lost all its strength. when we face this haughty scorn of the world, we need the firm belief that although the world thinks it will triumph, it will still collapse. for the lord is almighty: the great powerful world will never be able to remain longer, or to progress farther, than he permits. then there is the joy which no one can take away from us. it is the joy of blessedness in which all the sorrows of life vanish, just as the pangs of birth are lost in the exuberant joy of the thought that a new human being has been brought into the world. it is with the joy of blessedness as with maternal love: it is made through travail and suffering, and no one can take it away from us! ah, how it irritated and angered jews and heathen when they were unable to deprive the ancient christians of this joy even in the moment of death! when stephen appeared before the council, and his face was like the face of an angel because the joy of heaven reposed within his soul--they cut to the heart and they gnashed with their teeth, cast him out of the city, and stoned him. but his joy they could not take away from him: would that this might abide among us in greater fullness, for it is that very joy which gives us the touch of gentleness, mildness and loveliness! the christian may say about the "little whiles" that are full of vexation, what joseph said to his brethren: "god made everything right in order to do what he now hath done, and to preserve life." the "little whiles" may be heavy with trouble and sorrow, but it is an irremovable truth in the church of the lord that he changes them into good purposes in order to preserve our lives. it must have been difficult for the disciples to understand the lord's word about the "little while"--and it is difficult for us amidst our adversity to absorb thoroughly the fact that god will turn our sorrow into joy--that, forsooth, sorrow itself is pregnant with joy, shall become joy, and that these "little whiles" are necessary to the development and the ripening of the christian life. it was only when the disciples had lived through the little while and seen the lord once more that they understood his words. so also with us. the dark "little whiles" in our life are to be read--like the hebraic scriptures--backward. only when we have lived through these dark moments and when joy has found anew the way to our hearts, are we beginning to realize their meaning. _they were hours of redemption and hours of birth._ through them we became disgusted with the evil ways of sin to such an extent that the son of man found it possible to set us _actually free_. they were the hours of birth for the world-conquering faith and for the everlasting joy of blessedness. _we have seen the lord again when the hours of sorrow had passed, and we have felt his presence among us._ god made everything right in order to preserve our life eternal. the miracle in our age (acts , ) the miracle! well, who believes in it nowadays? if it had been five hundred years ago, it might have been different, but in our educated age--no, we know better now! science has spoken with the assurance of an expert and said: no miracles happen! everything adheres to certain stringent laws; our researches have proved this, and the miracle has never existed except in the brains of undeveloped ignorant individuals. nevertheless we maintain in the church of the lord that the miracle is a fact--as concrete a reality as was--the french revolution. the miracle does not thrive on the recognition of science, nor does it collapse before the shots which science fires against it. but when we maintain this, some people pityingly shrug their shoulders or smile haughtily while they sneer: how backward you people are! you certainly are not well posted in regard to the development and the intelligence of the age. let us see if speech of this kind cannot be effectively met so that we as christians may retain our faith and still be developed and intelligent people. . _the miracle and nature_ if we ask infidel science how everything originated, it answers: _through evolution!_ the world has developed during millions of years. but if we ask further: whence and from what? you yourselves claim that _nothing originates in nothing_, then this world must, according to your own postulates, have originated in something, for your own fundamental claim is that it cannot have risen out of nothingness. to this the general answer is that perhaps there was a small beginning, a protoplasm from which all things grew. but if there has been such a protoplasm, it certainly is an unprecedented miracle. never at any later time has anyone beheld such a protoplasm through which an entire world arose, and in that case _all existence is based upon a miracle_. this has only been assigned to as remote a time as possible, and even though one had not freed himself of the miracle, it was not irritatingly present as a constant probability in the evolution of the world. for, to admit that an almighty god created everything from the very beginning is synonymous with admitting the fact of the miracle as a constant probability. it is impossible for us to conceive that the almighty at the time of the creation should have so exhausted his powers that he now faces his creations as one who is utterly powerless. if his omnipotence made all things, then he must still be able, through that very omnipotence, to interfere, to mend and to increase, because in his wisdom he realizes that it so serves the promotion of his eternal plans. yes, but the _miracle is contrary to nature_, it is said. let us see! when jesus at the marriage at cana in galilee turned water into wine, a miracle happened, and many believed in him. _water into wine!_ is that really contrary to nature? is it not the very same thing that happens in nature every summer when the water of the soil is absorbed into the tender roots of the vine and passes through its branches, finally becoming wine in the grapes? the turning of water into wine is no change which rests upon violation of the laws of nature. in nature this happens in accordance with those plans which are the guiding laws of the powers of nature. at cana in galilee it happened in another way, but the same thing was accomplished: water became wine! there is unity in the achievement. is there not also an inner harmony between the powers working according to plans and laws in nature, and those which work untrammeled through the miracle? i think that we here are facing a unity in those powers--a relationship as intimate as between the father and his only begotten son who rests in his arms. and when we witness other miracles in which this unity becomes invisible to us, i certainly do not think it is because the unity is absent, but just because we are too shortsighted to perceive it. but then the miracle is, after all, not contrary to nature when looked at profoundly. but the miracle is in conflict with the _immutable laws_ of nature, it is said. let us mention an instance. i fetch a silver dollar and throw it up in the air. according to the law of gravity, which is one of the immutable laws of nature, it falls toward the ground, but by a firm resolve and by the strength in my arm i may catch it and hold it in the air. what happens then? is the law of nature violated, or is it rendered ineffective? by no means! but another unit of power appears which in this case is strong enough to hold the dollar in the air in spite of the fact that the law of nature acts upon it with its power in order to lead it earthwards. by my firm resolve and by the strength in my arm something else happens than if i had not interfered. yes, you say, such an insignificant thing as a coin anyone may keep in the air. it is different when we speak about the immense system of the universe. but--do you know whether or not the entire universe with its countless astral bodies weigh more in the hands of the almighty than a silver dollar in mine? i do not believe it. then, what you and i may do on a small scale, god almighty may do on the larger scale without annihilating the laws of nature. they act as usual, each according to its own plan, but god almighty may interfere and cause that something else will happen than would otherwise have happened, in spite of the fact that the laws of nature retain their entire power. finally it is said that miracle is contrary to _our experience_. let us imagine an old sailor a couple of hundred years ago. through more than a generation he had steered his vessel sometimes aided by wind and currents, sometimes against them. if he were told that a ship might be steered straight against the wind and the currents without sails, without cruising, without oar strokes, he would have uttered a fierce sailors' oath that such a story was a lie--wild imagination! no, he knew by _experience_ what was the power of the wind and the currents, and he had been struggling ever so gallantly against those very powers of the sea--no, no--don't tell me stories like that! you may be able to find some unexperienced people who will believe tales of that kind, but i know better. meanwhile we all know nowadays that the proud vessels sail steadily against wind and currents without canvas sails, without cruising manoeuvres and without oar strokes. what is the reason for this? are wind and currents adhering to other laws in our days, or has their effect been changed? no, not at all! but the old salt thought that his experience was exhaustive in this special field. it all required a power which he did not know, and in whose existence he did not believe. the attitude of the unbelieving science in our age toward the miracle is exactly like this. it has emitted many a droll sailor's oath to affirm that the miracle is contrary to its experience--and with the very same justification as did the sailor. we all need being reminded that human experience is very, very limited. it embraces such a small fraction of the universe, and it is not inclined to concede its limitations. the handicap of science is that of the sailor. in order to steer his ship right against wind and currents a power was required which he did not know and in whose existence he would not believe. in order to let the miracle happen, a power is required of which science, as such, does not know and in whose existence it refuses to believe. how many unbelieving physicians have not sworn as drastically as did the sailor, that they could not share the christian faith in resurrection? the physician says like the sailor: i know better--don't tell me stories! i have seen too often how that pumping machinery in the human body which is called heart, comes to a stop, and when the heart ceases beating, the eye is extinguished, and the body approaches the process of dissolution. don't tell me anything about the resurrection of the dead. it is contrary to my experience.--and yet, all that is required in order to make this possible, is a power which he does not know, and in whose existence he will not believe. he who was powerful enough to turn dust into man from the beginning, certainly is powerful enough to revivify that dust. the existence of this power is recognized, and has been experienced, in the church of the lord. but, here we stop by asserting that _that miracle in nature means that god works in other ways than those determined by the plans and laws of nature_. it is the very same power of god that works through the miracle as through nature restrained by laws. . _the miracle and the church of the lord_ if, then, we leave the sphere of nature for that of the church to seek an expression of the power which is working here, we find one formed by paul the apostle: _the power of the resurrection of jesus christ_. but as god's power in nature chiefly acts according to certain laws and plans, unheeding them only now and then--so does the power of his son in the church. it acts regularly, determined by laws and order, and unrestrained only now and then. in this there is, in both cases, a very great blessedness to be found. we have been created to abide by conditions which are determined by well-defined plans and laws, and we would be seriously troubled by being the objects of merely arbitrary and unrestrained powers. when jesus made bread for the hungry multitude in the desert, it happened through the free interference of powers--not in accordance with accepted laws and plans. but now suppose that the farmer were to expect bread in this manner--that certainly would lead him into a painful state of doubt: he had not sown his seed in the spring, for he was sure a miracle would be wrought so that the crop would be ready by harvest time. summer elapsed and he looked anxiously for the miracle which was to bring him the crop. according to the ways of human thinking it lasted too long before the miracle happened! what painful restlessness and uncertainty! no, there is greater surety and satisfaction in the order predicated upon laws, that seedtime and harvest shall not cease, and that whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap. but as god thus has endowed nature with his power so as to make it adopt certain laws with the end in view that man's worldly existence shall be based thereon, so christ has endowed his church with the power of resurrection which works through his institutions according to laws, and _upon this action, regulated and determined by laws, rests the existence of christians_. by doing so he has not, however, exhausted himself or confined himself so as to make it impossible for him to work through other methods, but we are restrained even as are those means through which the power of his resurrection comes to us. it would be wrong on the part of the farmer to demand that bread should be made in any other way than that which god has designed for its production from the soil--and it would be just as wrong on the part of christians to demand miracles. we must abide by the church _in which the power of the resurrection of jesus christ acts, regulated and law-restrained, at the baptismal font and communion, upon all those who will choose the right attitude toward them_. but has not the miracle, this unrestrained action of the powers, disappeared from the church? miracles do not happen nowadays as in the time of the apostles. people are often heard to speak like this, and here we must first of all call attention to the fact that one period in the history of the church may be profuse in miracles while the other is devoid of them. it does not go according to our desires and thoughts, but according to what the lord in his wisdom deems well for the fulfillment of his eternal thoughts. furthermore, our age is not in a very receptive mood for the "miracle"--it might face _the strange things_ gapingly instead of believingly accepting the "miracle" as a "miracle" and give god the glory therefor. yet i am convinced that the unrestrained interference of powers has not ceased in our age, but it takes place only according to the counsel of the lord, and where receptivity is present. nowadays, this applies especially in heathen lands and in secret where the faithful pray and receive unseen by the eyes of the world. but, in this connection, i would call attention to the following: the greatest miracle is not that some sick person may be restored to health, or freed of some bodily weakness, but that _i, the sinner that i am, may be resurrected in spirit, soul and body, in accordance with the eternal thoughts of glory of god_. this miracle is a thousand times greater than that which took place at the door of the temple when peter said to him who was lame from his mother's womb: "rise up and walk!" for this does not apply to a certain part of the body nor to certain bodily weaknesses, but to _the entire being with all its weaknesses_. this is the greatest miracle of all, and it takes place until the very end of time within the church of the lord. here we truly have reason for saying: praise be to god that we are not expected to look for the unrestrained interference of the powers for the sake of the restitution of our entire being, but that we can adhere to the regulated, law-restrained acts of the powers, fully convinced that the good work which is thus begun shall be completed in this manner, in spite of the devil and in spite of death. the power of the resurrection of jesus christ does not work here in the same way as in the case of the resurrection of lazarus; for there it acted unrestrainedly and visibly, even to the unbelieving jewish people. here it works invisibly, but none the less tangibly, and a far greater goal is to be attained. i am not to be resurrected like lazarus to once more live under conditions of sin, and to once more face death. i am to be resurrected from death and from the conditions of sin wholly prepared to be at home in the halls of heaven. in order to achieve this i am not to look for _sensations_ and _movements_ in bluish dimness, but to adhere faithfully to the regulated, law-restrained acts of the powers within the church of the lord. it is in the faith in this action of the powers that we are, with paul the apostle, to look forward to the resurrection of all things. i do not think that through the power of the resurrection of jesus christ all things are to be restored to the extent, as some have thought, that even the devil himself is to enter into the kingdom of god and become a leader of angels as he had been before; nor do i think that the godless and the infidels will be placed among the godfearing and the faithful in the kingdom of heaven without repentance and faith. but i do believe for a certainty that all things are to be restored according to the eternal design of god in which the power of the resurrection of jesus christ is allowed to act. and for that we are yearning within the church. but nature also yearns; that, too, is subject to corruption. that, too, shall be freed of the thraldom of corruption into the glorious freedom of the children of god. when the power of the resurrection of jesus christ has penetrated nature, then it will appear as the new earth in which justice abideth. but just as man must pass through death, through perdition, humanly seen, so the ancient earth must pass through death and perdition, and the scripture testifies with equal firmness in the case of both, that man must die and the earth must perish. then the great miracle has happened that everywhere in the life of man and in nature where the power of the resurrection of jesus christ is working, the restoration of all things has taken place, and the rest has been completely segregated from us so that it no longer may tempt or ensnare us. all bonds have broken. the miracle has been accomplished in its entire extent in accordance with the counsel of the wisdom of god--that miracle which was begun when the only begotten son of god was conceived by a woman--that miracle which, as far as you are concerned, took place when he was conceived within you at the sacred moment of baptism. it is said about the miracle of jesus at cana that it was a _token_, and that may be said about all the miracles of the lord. but, of what are they tokens? of the fact that his power can conquer everywhere, _in nature, in the life of mankind, and in the spiritual world_. tokens of his mastery of nature were witnessed at the marriage at cana where he turned water into wine; when he stilled the storm on gennesaret lake; and when he filled the nets of the fishermen: in the life of mankind when blind became seeing; deaf became hearing; the lame walked and the dead arose: in the spiritual world when jesus drove the evil spirits away from those who had become obsessed by them--indeed, even the prince of the evil spirits, the devil, was forced to yield defeated. all these are tokens that the power of jesus christ can do everything, can master anything from the deep of the sea to the highest arch of the sky, and that it is capable of attaining victory in the struggle with principalities and powers, with the spiritual hosts of evil beneath the sky. but these tokens, furthermore, are _small beginnings of the restoration_ and when they have been perfected, everywhere and all-inclusive, then that new heaven and that new earth where justice dwelleth, has become a fact. god is the god of order. therefore we find plans, system and laws in nature as well as in the church. it has been given especially to our own age to realize this so that an expression like "the law of nature in the spiritual world" has been recognized. science has perceived this regulated, law-restrained order of things in nature as keenly as never before, but, alas, it became dizzy thereat. otherwise it would have exclaimed even as paul did: o, world of wisdom and power! who would have known how to plan thus? who would have the strength to subdue and master the giant powers? in the church of the lord we respond: _god the almighty father, the creator of heaven and earth!_ * * * * * an atheist was lecturing at a village in england and ended by self-confidently inviting the audience to take part in a discussion. then an old woman, her back bent with the weariness of life and years, arose, saying: "sir, i have a question to ask you?" "all right, my good woman," the atheist answered, "what is it then?" "ten years ago i was left a widow with eight unsupported children. i had nothing but a bible, but by following its directions and by believing in god i have been enabled to support my dear ones and myself. i am now approaching the grave, but i am perfectly happy, for i am looking forward to an eternally blessed life with jesus. _my faith has done this for me: what has your way of thinking done for you?_" "well, well, my good woman," the atheist said, "please, understand me right--i have no desire to disrupt your happiness, but----" "o, that wasn't the question at all," the old woman interrupted--"don't beat about the bush, but tell us: _what has your atheism done for you?_" once more the atheist tried to evade the question, but the audience applauded the old woman so vigorously that he felt it necessary to withdraw, defeated by a woman who, during a life of hardships, had experienced the power and the blessedness of christianity. * * * * * the late dr. ahlfeld in leipsic once said in his final address to a class of children about to be confirmed: "infidels will shake their heads at your faith. they will speak of their unbelief as progress. they will tell you that progress has been made in everything, and they will ask you why you then should abide by the ancient faith. then you shall answer: the ancient sun has shone for thousands of years, and no one can give us one that is better. we make no progress by rejecting it but by learning how to make better use of its rays. thus, also, with christ. he shines through all ages as the sun of mankind. he is the very same today and tomorrow and in all infinity, and it is not progress to reject him. we must learn how to make increasingly better use of the rays of his grace. that, children, _is our progress_!" america--you are the hope of the world today----! may, john , : if, therefore, the son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. acts , : but i was free born. when paul had been imprisoned at jerusalem the chief captain ordered that he is to be scourged in an effort to make him tell the truth. paul then asks: "is it lawful to scourge a man that is a roman?" the chief captain asks whether he is a roman, and paul says that he is. the chief captain goes on to say: "with a great sum obtained i this freedom," but paul answers: "i was free born." it is a question of the right of free men in ancient rome. under the ancient porcian law which was later restored by the sempronic, no roman citizen might be scourged, and anyone who violated the roman civil laws, was liable to a punishment which involved the loss of property and life. of this, we realize how deeply treasured civil liberty and rights were in ancient rome. the right of free men might not be assailed. it is about this right that the chief captain says: "with a great sum obtained i this freedom!" but paul answers frankly and proudly: "i was free born!" _it is an heritage from my fathers._ thus the young generation in america may say: _we were born into civil liberty_. it is an heritage from the fathers. we have obtained it at no expense of our own. but the fathers of ' bought it with their blood. when they fought under the command of george washington, they endangered their very lives in order to win this liberty. many sacrificed their lives. indeed, it was dearly bought! when the declaration of independence was signed, franklin exclaimed: "now we all will have to hang together, otherwise we will hang separately." but in the star spangled banner waved above the heads of more slaves than there were inhabitants in the country at the time of the signing of the declaration of independence. so, for the second time america was plunged into a struggle for liberty for the purpose of making the star spangled banner the true flag of the free. the spirit of ' could not acquiesce in slavery. and through abraham lincoln it entered into a covenant with _the great, all-embracing and deeply sympathetic heart_--a heart so great that it could enfold the north and the south--so sympathetic that it was able to embrace white and colored people alike, friend as well as foe. this was the great heart that led america through the days of the civil war--fortunately for this country. it was this heart that beat in the breast of lincoln when he as a -year old man down in new orleans saw how human beings were sold in the same way as we nowadays sell cattle. man and wife were sold to separate buyers and parted never to meet again--parted while they wept as though the heart should burst. then young lincoln raised his hand toward heaven vowing: "by the eternal god, if ever i get a chance to hit that thing, i will strike it and strike it hard." this was the lincoln who led in the civil war. the man with the great heart was equipped as no one else to win the victory, to _maintain the union of north and south and to gain freedom for the negroes_. it was he who said, when victory was an accomplished fact, that he would continue the fight for the rights of man without hesitation, "with malice toward none, with charity to all." but since the days of the civil war america has gained a wealth which no other country has ever possessed. you young people are born to claim that, too. _our youth was born to wealth and to inherit the forefathers of ' as well as lincoln, the man with the great heart._ it is, indeed, great to be born to all these things. but it is not easy. it requires a strong and alert youth to make the right use of such treasures. added to this it must be remembered that america after the civil war was reckoned with as one of the great powers. when problems of world significance were to be settled, the question was asked: what does america say about it? came then the great world war. america stayed out as long as possible. the world began to reckon less with us than before. germany even thought she could sneer at us with impunity. how was that? was it a matter of distance only? no, in germany the belief prevailed _that the spirit of ' , and the heart of lincoln's day had died within the bosom of young america_. at all events, it was not inclusive enough to span the great ocean and to sympathize with those who were suppressed and suffering yonder. it was with young america as with the wild animals caught and put into a cage: they are led into a life of ease and indolence; they lose their strength, their elasticity and their power of propagation. in brief: _ease and indolence kill them!_ similarly, it was thought _prosperity_ had killed the spirit of ' and the all-embracing heart of lincoln in the youth of america, and under those circumstances there could be no danger that american youth would enter the great world war where prosperity and all kinds of comfort and ease were to be sacrificed and life itself be risked. miss grace c. bostwick writes in _the pagan_: _o america!_ they said you were young and crude and extravagant, and that your women were too free and open; that your children had no respect for age; and that you gave no thought to the past. they said you had no artistic sense and accused you of setting up an altar to the almighty dollar---- o america! and they smiled when your name was mentioned. but yesterday there marched an army down the street, an army of brave-eyed men with boyish mouths, straight-backed and proud in their new-found mission-- the saving of the world! and yesterday ... somewhere ... at sea a white face floated with empty eyes upturned to an unseeing sky. and yesterday ... in a barren field ... a mere boy fell from his perilous work on high-- while great ships heavy with sustenance plow stolidly through the deep ... o america! you are the hope of the world today. germany had made a miscalculation; the spirit of ' was not dead in young america, neither was the great heart of lincoln. prosperity had not been able to kill them. when the suppressed really needed america, our youth heeded the summons. with firm footsteps, with eyes afire, they went away into the great fight. i do not know whether they vowed as did the young lincoln, but i do know that when they arrived at the battlefield, they struck, and struck hard--so hard, indeed, that the tyrant succumbed. and well may we say about that right of free men which was won by american participation: _it was dearly bought by you--who never came back_. it is said that the french government in july, , had decided to order the evacuation of paris, but when general pershing heard this, he telegraphed a request to postpone the carrying out of the order until his soldiers had entered into active fighting. then came the turning point. our soldiers brought it about, and victory was won. but a new element has entered into the history of the war--into the relations among nations. it is the word of jesus: "therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." never before has this maxim been accepted as the _golden rule_ governing international relations. president wilson has repeated it time and again, and it characterized our participation in the war, even to the extent that our country has paid for the damages made to french soil when our soldiers dug their trenches. and this was but right. america did not enter the war with the intention of conquering or destroying one hair-breadth of ground. so we are justified in saying to germany: you must pay for what you have destroyed, to the best of your ability. "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them!" by this we have arrived at something new. our participation in the war constituted a great sacrifice of lives and money without any expectation of indemnity of any kind. but in this we find something of the redemption from the _thraldom of greediness_--something of that freedom to which jesus will guide mankind. but that freedom is won only by the aid of the spirit of the lord. and it seems to me that the spirit of ' and the heart of lincoln have entered into a covenant with, and have shown a willingness to be guided by, the spirit of the lord. _where the youth of america marches forward to fight in accordance with the spirit of ' and with the great heart of lincoln, guided by the spirit of the lord, it is an unconquerable army and will always carry home the victory._ with lincoln we can say: victory is won, but the fight is to be continued without hesitation, with malice toward none, with charity to all. i believe that america is destined to lead the nations of the world in the future, but if this is to succeed rightly, then our youth must make it clear to itself that it faces the choice between _the altar of the living god and the altar of the almighty dollar._ _for which of these will you young people spend your strength? at which of these altars will you pray and praise?_ the eyes of everyone look toward america as never before: "o, america! you are the hope of the world today!" is this truth to remain? it depends on you, young men and women--depends on your choice of altars. once upon a time there was a man who was permitted to wish whatever he wanted, and his wish would be granted. but he was to wish only once. finally he made up his mind to wish that everything he touched would turn to gold. first he touched the door post. it turned to gold. he rubbed his hands delightedly: what a nice big piece of gold! it certainly was fine that his wish was as sensible as this! then he started to wash himself, but the water turned to gold. that wasn't quite as delightful, but he let that pass. after that he sat down to eat, but the food turned to gold. he then realized that the fulfillment of his highest wish would lead him into certain death. likewise there are people in america who wish that everything they touch turn to gold. the result of everything they do is to be converted into gold: we name them profiteers. they kneel before the shrine of the almighty dollar. but this means certain death to the spirit of ' and to the deeply sympathetic heart of lincoln, and the spirit of the lord expires through this worship of gold. they think of themselves only. they are enslaved by the fetters of greediness. they refuse to do to others what they wish others should do to them. are they to get the upper hand? it is for you, young people, to answer! the future of america lies in your hands. what is your choice? professor georg fr. nicolai of the university of berlin during the war gave expression to thoughts of such a nature that he was forced to flee from germany to denmark. it was there that he in october, , wrote as follows: "there are times in the history of mankind when we dare not put new wine into old bottles (mar. , ). we require new wine, new bottles, new thoughts and new men. in order to give the peoples of the earth faith, an inner awakening is required. the bible speaks of it as repentance.... less pathetically we moderns refer to it as the new adjustment. but no matter what name we bestow upon it, it stands to reason that without an awakening no new life can be produced.... the process of dissolution is so far advanced that today the biblical word has become true: only he who giveth his life, shall keep it.... a new spirit must be inculcated in the peoples." _a new spirit must be inculcated in the peoples!_ that is the decisive factor for the happiness and the health of the nations in the future. political spirit of liberty is not enough. inspired by that you may fight and conquer and--set your foot upon the neck of the foe. no, a new spirit is needed. it is that spirit which, redeeming, speaks through the words of the lord: "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them!" that's the task that confronts you young people. it may not possess the tension and the excitement of the battlefield--it may not, perhaps, let you directly feel that you are taking part in the solution of the great problems of the world's history--it is, nevertheless, the very greatest task of the world. here we must be impelled by the spirit of god. it is related about samson how "the spirit of the lord came mightily upon him." but while the beginning was good, the end was sad, for at last he was driven only by lust. therefore he was of little blessing. he ended by representing mere brute force and no more. i have seen the glow of the spirit in the eyes of the young when they went to war. in the beginning they were moved by the spirit of the lord. now the task is to continue in that spirit and thus continuously to remain "the hope of the world"--not to end in materialism and as representing no more than brute force. america is wealthy enough, strong enough, to attain a leading position in the ranks of the nations--to enjoy an age of greatness as did germany. but in that case the collapse is sure. it is but a short distance ahead. we will have to face it--as germany now has faced defeat. germany had been saturated with darwinism. looked at from one point of view, it is an emphasis placed upon brute force and upon the survival of the fittest. added to this came the materialism which laid stress upon the values of what was materialistic and mechanical at the cost of the soul. the nation grew great and strong. but man became petty and insignificant. no nation has ever possessed such a wonderful and perfect mechanical development as that which germany had reached when the war broke out. on the strength of that, the dominion of the world was to be won. but here, too, the words of the lord apply: "for what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" (mat. , ). what profited it germany that she possessed her soul-less mechanical attainments, even though they were ever so wonderful and marvelous? what would it have profited germany to have gained the whole world when she would lose her soul thereby? no, then the great defeat certainly was to be preferred. through that germany may recover her lost soul. if ever any new adjustment was needed, it is there. a new spirit must be inculcated in the people. but what would it profit america if she won the rank of a leader among nations through her strength and wealth? nothing at all. the great collapse would be only a short distance ahead. before or later we would succumb to it. still i believe that america possesses the qualifications for leadership as no other nation in history does--the leadership of that new adjustment which the world must needs experience if life shall ever again become sufferable upon this old earth of ours. why is it that america has superior qualifications? has not england the very same qualifications? are not the english the great commercial nation which embraces the earth with its countless ships? or france--that liberty-loving nation with its technically wonderfully developed language? now when everything settles down again, will not these nations be able to assume the leading position in the history of the world just as well as america? no.--and i will attempt to explain why they cannot. america has been created through a mingling of all the peoples of the world, as it were. it is true that some claim all the rogues and scoundrels of the old world came over here--and some of them undoubtedly did. but it is not they who have built up america and made her great and strong. nor is it those people of whom it requires twelve to make a dozen--for that species generally dies where it was born. no, they who built america were men and women who possessed the great _daring_ and that _strength of the will_ which were necessary in order to carry them across great stretches of water and land, to make them fell the vast forests and break the prairie soil, and to build their homes in the woods and upon the prairies. these are the people who built america--who made the country great and strong and wealthy. many have feared that the daring and the strength of will of the fathers had died. the younger generation had too markedly become a _candy, kid-glove, silkstockinged youth_. but yonder on the great battlefield it found an opportunity to show that it still possessed the daring and the strength of will of the fathers. once general pershing had to retire his troops one mile. it was reported to headquarters, and the reply came back: "push your men a little farther back and let them rest!" but by that time general pershing already was preparing to storm forward again. and so unexpectedly swift and vigorous was the attack that not only was the lost mile regained, but one in addition. it was the daring of the american soldiers that won in this instance. and, speaking generally, it must have been the _daring_ and the _strength of will_ of the american soldier that conquered the _mechanism_ of the german army. the daring and the strength of will of the fathers still live on in the young generation: it is a contribution from all the peoples of the earth which no other individual nation can boast--and it is one of these very qualifications which make it possible for america to lead upon the great stage of history. but, in this respect it is of still greater importance that america by receiving this contribution from all the peoples of the earth has developed a _deep-seated and sincere feeling of community_ with all nations. through the irishmen here, america is in close contact with ireland, through the poles with poland, through the bohemians with bohemia, through the danes with denmark, and so on. this adds to the qualifications which fit america for assuming the part of the leader in the progress of the world, and is in itself a qualification which no other country at any time has ever had, and which no other country most likely will ever have at any time in the future. there is no nation in the world which has such a _vivid and natural consciousness of community_ with as many peoples as has america. and this is of unprecedented importance. for that nation which is to lead the world during the period of _readjustment_ which the world so sorely needs, must do so, not through power and wealth, but through a deep-seated sympathy and a readiness and ability, born of that sympathy, to lead the many nations forward to something better--to a higher and nobler national life so that they will strive to live according to the words of the lord: "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." but america loses this unique qualification for leadership among the nations, on the day when the multitudinous languages spoken here die. therefore, the great question is whether or not progress in this respect is to lead into that narrowmindedness which kills the many tongues. or, will the development favor a retention of the native languages of the various nationalities here together with english? _english is the great common language of america--the principal language which must be learned by the immigrants._ this is so obviously a matter of fact that it really should be unnecessary to allude to it. but, in addition, every nationality should be allowed to retain its native language in order to ensure for america the preservation of that deep-seated natural sympathy with the many peoples created by god--"of one blood all nations of men." the american nation is related to all other nations. it therefore has the qualification for _understanding them_ and _for encouraging the feeling of brotherhood_ among them which no other nation ever has had, and which any other individual nation most likely never will have. the history of the world is like one great and magnificent epic. each nation constitutes a song in the poem. england has its own song--france has its own, and so forth. america has its own great hymn, but, in addition a large number of little songs, each has its own particular rhythm derived from the manifold living languages spoken here, and they add _richness_ and _volume_ to the mighty chorus. let me use another simile: we all know the mississippi river. it runs from a point 'way up in the remote northwest, winds its way east and south until finally it releases its immense masses of water into the great sea. how does the river get these immense masses of water? the answer is that on its way it absorbs one little rivulet after another. humming and rippling from cheerful little wells here and there they come, and every little rivulet, no matter how pitifully small and insignificant it may look, helps the mississippi to become the great river which carries its tremendous volume of water to the sea. likewise, the american language is the great river which receives its cheerful additions from the many smaller living languages. each springs from its own particular source, singing its own particular tune, and each language makes its own little contribution in order to make the american language powerful and great and to give it that wonderful volume which enables it to run into the great sea of the life of nations carrying with it a blessing of wealth like no other language. and the many individual peoples will, when they hear the english language spoken from america, feel that it comprises such a strange richness and volume as they are unable to find elsewhere. indeed, it is almost as though they would hear the american people address them in their own respective language--that "wherein they were born" (acts , ). _ah, you young generation!_ behold this--and understand it! you are born not merely into the wealth of your land and to take up the heritage of your fathers. but you are destined for _a glorious future_, for a future achievement so great and magnificent that no young generation in any other country has ever seen the like. _you, young man, and you, young woman--you have been chosen to draw the strength and vitality of life from a multitude of small wells within your own field and to derive such sustenance from them that you can form your lives beautifully and harmoniously. and you have been chosen, in the spirit of brotherhood, to lead such a current of pure thoughts and elevated ideals to all the peoples of the earth in such a manner as to cause them to wonderingly ask: how is all this? we hear them speak the american tongue, and yet it is as though we hear them speak to us in our own language--in that "wherein we were born."_ it sounds just as home-like and peculiarly attractive as our own--because it has been enriched by many tongues. and the vital richness and fulness which it carries to them has gained from the fact that we here have had such a multitude of wells to draw from. therefore we, who are older, bend our knees and pray as did david (ps. , ): "that our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth: that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace!" what we want--is this: strong erect young men, sons of america, who perceive, with the clearness of the spirit, the problems of the future and who, with the red blood of youth coursing in their veins and the glow of enthusiasm lingering in their eyes, will take up the task of solving them. and, moreover: pure and noble women: david had been looking at the corner stones that were to support that temple which was to be the tangible expression of israel's ideal life, that of community with holy and just god: how beautiful they would be when they were polished--and how strong! indeed, they were able to support that wonderful temple which was to be built to the glory of god. and then he has been thinking: o, lord, give us women like these corner stones! pure, noble, and strong women who can be the very foundation of the home-life of our country--and carry it into the community with god! paul the apostle writes in his epistle to the philippians, , - : "let this mind be in you, which was also in christ jesus: who, being in the form of god, thought it not robbery to be equal with god, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. wherefore god hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, that at the name of jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that jesus christ is lord, to the glory of god the father." jesus christ won the name which is above every name because he served mankind as no one else had done, and gave his life for its sake. thereby he became the saviour of men--their great leader who can guide them into eternal life and blessedness. thereby he also became _the lord_ to the glory of god the father. during the war america gave herself to the service of mankind as did no other nation. therefore the suppressed looked to america quietly imploring for aid, and therefore it might be said truthfully, especially in : "o, america, you are the hope of the world today!" now the question remains: will america continue to be the great, unselfish servant among the nations, above all others, leading them into the riddance of the thraldom of greediness, guided by the spirit of the lord? then--if she does--she will win a name above the names of all other nations, because she will be the great servant who shows the way to the highest ideals--to the pure, charitable and peaceful thoughts among nations in that national and human brotherhood for which god created them: of one blood all nations of men. this i wish with all my heart. but it devolves upon you, young people, to answer. it devolves upon you to determine whether this will continue to be true: "_america! you are the hope of the world today!_" _god bless you, america!--god bless you with all your homes and with all your youth!_ * * * * * transcriber's notes: page , "heavey" changed to "heavy" (heavy laden, and i will) page , "wordly" changed to "worldly" (in worldly things) page , "thnig" changed to "thing" (and one thing more) page , "mircle" changed to "miracle" (fact of the miracle as) page , "couquer" changed to "conquer" (power can conquer) page , "spirtis" changed to "spirits" (of the evil spirits) page , "principalties" changed to "principalities" (struggle with principalities) page , "to" changed to "b (be sacrificed and life) (online soon in an extended version, alo linking to free sources for education worldwide ... mooc's, educational materials,...) images generously made available by the internet archive. revelations of divine love recorded by julian, anchoress at _norwich_ anno domini _in lumine tuo videbimus lumen_ a version from the ms. in the british museum edited by grace warrack methuen & company essex street strand london domini, refugium factus es nobis, a generatione in generationem. respice in servos tuos, et in opera tua: et dirige filios eorum. et sit splendor domini dei nostri super nos, et opera manuum nostrarum dirige super nos: et opus manuum nostrarum dirige. "truth seeth god, and wisdom beholdeth god, and of these two cometh the third: that is a holy, marvelling delight in god; which is love." contents page i. notes on manuscripts and editions of this book. xi ii. note as to two julians. xv iii. introduction:-- part i. the lady julian. xvii part ii. the manner of the book. xxxiii part iii. the theme of the book. lv iv. "revelations of divine love":-- (_editorial account_) i. a list of contents, called "a particular of the chapters". ii.-iii. autobiographical. iv.-ix. _the first revelation_: the trinity is shewn, through the suffering of christ, as goodness, or love all-working. x. _the second revelation_: man's sight of god's love is but partial because of sin's darkness. xi. _the third revelation_: all being is being of god and is good: sin is no being. xii. _the fourth revelation_: the stain of sin through lacking of human love is cleared away by the death of christ in his love. xiii. _the fifth revelation_: by love's sacrifice, in christ, the evil suffered, for love's increase, to rise, is overcome for ever. xiv. _the sixth revelation_: the travail of man against evil on earth is a glory accepted by love in heaven. xv. _the seventh revelation:_ it is of god's will, for our learning, that on earth we change between joy of light and pain of darkness. xvi.-xxi. _the eighth revelation:_ of the oneness of god and man in the passion of christ, through compassion of the creature with christ and of christ with the creature. all compassion in men is christ in men. xxii.-xxiii. _the ninth revelation_: of the worshipful entering of man's soul into the joy of love divine in the passion. xxiv. _the tenth revelation_: of the thankful entering of the soul into the peace of _the endless love_ opened up for man in the time of the passion. xxv. _the eleventh revelation:_ of christ's raising, fulfilling love to the souls of men, as beheld in the love between him and his mother. xxvi. _the twelfth revelation:_ all that the soul lives by and loves is god, through christ. xxvii.-xl. _the thirteenth revelation:_ man's finite love was suffered by infinite love to fail, that falling thus through sin into pain and death of darkness, the creature therein might more deeply know his need and more highly know, in its succouring strength, the creator's love, as the saviour's; that so being raised, and for ever held clinging to that through the grace of the holy ghost, he might rise to fuller and higher and endless oneness with god. xli.-xliii. _the fourteenth revelation:_ beginning on earth, prayer makes the soul one with god. xliv.-lxiii. regarding these revelations and the christian life of love's travail on earth against sin. lxiv.-lxv. _the fifteenth revelation_ (closing): of love's fulfilment in heaven. lxvi. autobiographical: the fall through frailty of nature, by self-regarding, into doubt of the shewing of love; the rescue by mercy; the assaying of faith and the overcoming by grace. lxvii.-lxviii. _the sixteenth revelation_ (confirming): the indwelling of god in the soul, now and for ever. "_thou shalt not be overcome._" lxix. autobiographical: the second assaying of faith, through the horror of spiritual darkness; the overcoming by virtue of the passion of christ, with help from the common belief of the christian fellowship. lxx.-lxxxv. the life of faith is kept by charity, led on by hope lxxvi. the meaning of the whole. of learning more on earth and in heaven of the one thing taught in the revelation: _the endless love_; in which life is everlasting. v. postscript by an early transcriber of the manuscript. vi. glossary. _the title-page is from a design by phoebe anna traquair._ notes on manuscripts and editions this english book exists in two manuscripts: no. of the bibliothèque nationale, paris (_bibliotheca bigotiana_, ), and no. _sloane_, in the british museum. the paris manuscript is of the sixteenth century, the sloane is in a seventeenth century handwriting; the english of the fourteenth century seems to be on the whole well preserved in both, especially perhaps in the later manuscript, which must have been copied from one of mixed east anglian and northern dialects. this manuscript has no title-page, and nothing is known as to its history. delisle's catalogue of the _biblioth. bigot._ ( ) gives no particulars as to the acquisition of no. . the two versions may be compared in these sentences:-- chap. ii., _paris_ ms.: "this revelation was made to a symple creature unlettyrde leving in deadly flesh the yer of our lord a thousande and thre hundered and lxxiii the xiii daie of may." _sloane_: "these revelations were shewed to a simple creature that cowde no letter the yeere of our lord the xiij day of may." chap. li., _paris_ ms.: "the colour of his face was feyer brown whygt with full semely countenaunce. his eyen were blakke most feyer and semely shewyng full of lovely pytte and within hym an heyward long and brode all full of endlesse hevynlynes. and the lovely lokyng that he lokyd on his servant contynually. and namely in his fallyng ÷ me thought it myght melt oure hartys for love. and brek them on twoo for joy." _sloane_: "the color of his face was faire browne, with ful semely features, his eyen were blak most faire and semely shewand ful of lovely pety and within him an heyward long and brode all full of endles hevyns, and the lovely lokeing that he loked upon his servant continuly and namely in his fallyng me thowte it myte molten our herts for love & bresten hem on to for joy." the sloane ms. does not mention the writer of the book, but the copyist of the paris version has, after the _deo gratias_ with which it ends, added or transcribed these words: _explicit liber revelationem julyane anatorite_ [sic] _norwyche cujus anime propicietur deus_. blomefield, in his _history of norfolk_ (iv. p. ), speaks of "an old vellum manuscript, pages of which contained an account of the visions, etc.," of the lady julian, anchoress at st. julian's, norwich, and quotes the title written by a contemporary: "here es a vision shewed by the godenes of god to a devoute woman: and her name is julian, that is recluse at noryche, and yett is on life, anno domini mccccxlii. in the whilke vision er fulle many comfortabyll words, and greatly styrrande to alle they that desyres to be crystes looverse"--greatly stirring to all that desire to be lovers of christ. this manuscript, possibly containing the writing of julian herself, was in the possession of the rev. francis peck ( - ). the original mss. of that antiquarian writer went to sir thomas cave, and ultimately to the british museum, but his general library was sold in to mr t. payne (of payne & foss), bookseller, strand, and this old manuscript of the "revelations," which has been sought for in vain in the catalogues of public collections, may perhaps have been bought and sold by him.[ ] it may be extant in some private library. tersteegen, who, in his _auserlesene beschreibungen heiliger seelen_, gives a long extract from julian's book (vol. iii. p. , rd ed. ), mentions in his preface that he had seen "in the library of the late poiret" an old manuscript of these revelations. pierre poiret, author of several works on mystical theology, died in near leyden, but the manuscript has not found its way to the university there. poiret himself refers thus to julian and her book in his _catalogus auctorum mysticorum_, giving to her name the asterisk denoting greatness: "_julianae matris anachoretae, revelationes de amore dei. anglice. theodidactae, profundae, ecstaticae._" (_theologiae pacificae itemque mysticae_, p. . amsterdam, .) the earliest printed edition of julian's book was prepared by the benedictine serenus de cressy, and published in by permission of his ecclesiastical superior, the abbot of lambspring, under the title of _sixteen revelations of divine love_. it agrees with the manuscript now in paris, but the readings that differ from the sloane manuscript are very few and are quite unimportant. this version of de cressy's is in seventeenth century english with some archaic words, which are explained on the side margins; it was re-printed in . a modernised version taken from the sloane ms. was published, with a preface, by henry collins in (t. richardson & sons). these three, the only printed editions, are now all of great rarity. for the following version, the editor having transcribed the sloane ms., divided its continuous lines into paragraphs, supplied to many words capital letters, and while following as far as possible the significance of the commas and occasional full stops of the original, endeavoured to make the meaning clearer by a more varied punctuation. as the book is designed for general use, modern spelling has been adopted, and most words entirely obsolete in speech have been rendered in modern english, though a few that seemed of special significance or charm have been retained. archaic forms of construction have been almost invariably left as they are, without regard to modern grammatical usage. occasionally a word has been underlined for the sake of clearness or as a help in preserving the measure of the original language, which in a modern version must lose a little in rhythm, by altered pronunciation and by the dropping of the termination "en" from verbs in the infinitive. here and there a clause has been put within parentheses. the very few changes made in words that might have any bearing on theological or philosophical questions, any historical or personal significance in the presentment of julian's view, are noted on the margin and in the glossary. where prepositions are used in a sense now obscure they have generally been left as they are (_e.g., of_ for _by_ or _with_), or have been added to rather than altered (_e.g., for_ is rendered by the archaic but intelligible _for that_, rather than by _because_, and _of_ is amplified by words in square brackets, as [_by virtue_] _of_, [_out_] _of_ rather than changed into _through_ or _from_). the editor has desired to follow the rule of never omitting a word from the manuscript, and of enclosing within square brackets the very few words added. it may be seen that these words do not alter the sense of the passage, but are interpolated with a view to bringing it out more clearly, in insignificant references (_e.g._ "in this [shewing]"), and once or twice in a passage of special obscurity (see chap. xlv). [ ] v. nichol's _literary anecdotes_, vol. iii. p. . note as to the lady julian, anchoress at st julian's, and the lady julian lampet, anchoress at carrow in _carrow abbey_, by walter rye (privately printed, ), is given a list of wills, in which the name of the lady julian lampet frequently occurs as a legatee between the years (will of sir john erpingham) and (will of william hallys). comparing the will of hallys with that of margaret purdance, which was made in but not proved till , and from which the name of lady julian lampet as a legatee is stroked out, no doubt because of her death, we find evidence that this anchoress died between and . as even the earlier of these dates was a hundred and thirty-six years after the birth of the writer of the "revelations," who in may was over thirty years of age, the identity of the "lady julian, recluse at norwich," with the lady julian lampet, though it has naturally been suggested, is surely an impossibility. there were anchorages in the churchyards both of st julian's, conisford (which belonged to the nuns of carrow in the sense of its revenues having been made over to them by king stephen for the support of that priory or "abbey"), and of st mary's, the convent church of the nuns. see the will of robert pert--proved --which left "to the anchoress of carhowe s., to ditto at st julian's s.," and that of the lady isobel morley, who in left bequests to "dame julian, anchoress at carrow, and dame agnes, anchoress at st julian's in cunisford"--no doubt the same dame agnes that is mentioned by blomefield as being at st julian's in . this agnes may have been the immediate successor of julian the writer of the "revelations," who is spoken of as "yet in life"--as if in great age--in , when she would be a hundred years old. perhaps the almost invariable use of the surname of the carrow dame julian (who was, no doubt, of the family of sir ralph lampet--frequently mentioned by blomefield and in the _paston letters_) may go to establish proof that there had been before her and in her earlier years of recluse life another anchoress julian, who most likely had been educated at carrow, but who lived as an anchoress at st julian's, and was known simply as dame or "the lady" julian. * * * * * from blomefield's _history of norfolk_, vol. iv. p. : "carhoe or carrow stands on a hill by the side of the river, about a furlong from conisford or southgates, and was always in the liberty of the city [of norwich].... here was an ancient hospital or nunnery, dedicated to saint mary and saint john, to which king stephen having given lands and meadows without the south-gate, seyna and lescelina, two of the sisters, in began the foundations of a new monastery called kairo, carrow, car-hou, and sometimes car-dieu, which was dedicated to the virgin mary and saint john, and consisted of a prioress and nine (afterwards twelve) benedictine black nuns.... their church was founded by king stephen and was dedicated to the blessed virgin, and had a chapel of st john baptist joined to its south side, and another of st catherine to its north; there was also an anchorage by it, and in lady julian lampet was anchoress there." ... "this nunnery for many years had been a school or place of education for the young ladies of the chief families of the diocese, who boarded with and were educated by the nuns." from dr jessopp's _visitations of the diocese of norwich_, - , introduction, p. xliv.: "the priory of carrow had always enjoyed a good reputation, and the house had for long been a favourite retreat for the daughters of the norwich citizens who desired to give themselves to a life of religious retirement." introduction part i the lady julian _beati pauperes spiritu: quoniam ipsorum est regnum coelorum_ _s. matth. v._ very little is known of the outer life of the woman that nearly five hundred years ago left us this book. it is in connection with the old church of st julian in the parish of conisford, outlying norwich, that julian is mentioned in blomefield's _history of norfolk_ (vol. iv. p. ): "in the east part of the churchyard stood an anchorage in which an ankeress or recluse dwelt till the dissolution, when the house was demolished, though the foundations may still be seen ( ). in lady julian, the ankeress here was a strict recluse, and had two servants to attend her in her old age. this woman was in these days esteemed one of the greatest holiness. in dame agnes was recluse here; in , dame elizabeth scott; in , lady elizabeth; in , dame agnes edrygge." the little church of st julian (in use at this day) still keeps from norman times its dark round tower of flint rubble, and still there are traces about its foundation of the anchorage built against its south-eastern wall. "this church was founded," says the history of the county, "before the conquest, and was given to the nuns of carhoe (carrow) by king stephen, their founder; it hath a round tower and but one bell; the north porch and nave are tiled, and the chancel is thatched. there was an image of st julian in a niche of the wall of the church, in the churchyard." citing the record of a burial in "the churchyard of st julian, the king and confessor," blomefield observes: "which shews that it was not dedicated to st julian, the bishop, nor st julian, the virgin." the only knowledge that we have directly from julian as to any part of her history is given in her account of the time and manner in which the revelation came, and of her condition before and during and after this special experience. she tells how on the th day of may, ,[ ] the revelation of love was shewed to her, "a simple creature, unlettered," who had before this time made certain special prayers from out of her longing after more love to god and her trouble over the sight of man's sin and sorrow. she had come now, she mentions, to the age of thirty, for which she had in one of these prayers, desired to receive a greater consecration,--thinking, perhaps, of the year when the carpenter's workshop was left by the lord for wider ministry,--she was "thirty years old and an half." this would make her birth-date about the end of , and the old manuscript says that she "was yet in life" in . julian relates that the fifteen consecutive "shewings" lasted from about four o'clock till after nine of that same morning, that they were followed by only one other shewing (given on the night of the next day), but that through later years the teaching of these sixteen shewings had been renewed and explained and enlarged by the more ordinary enlightenment and influences of "the same spirit that shewed them." in this connection she speaks, in different chapters, of "fifteen years after and more," and of twenty years after, "save three months"; thus her book cannot have been finished before . of the circumstances in which the revelations came, and of all matters connected with them, julian gives a careful account, suggestive of great calmness and power of observation and reflection at the time, as well as of discriminating judgment and certitude afterwards. she describes the preliminary seven days' sickness, the cessation of all its pain during the earlier visions, in which she had spiritual sight of the passion of christ, and indeed during all the five hours' "special shewing"; the return of her physical pain and mental distress and "dryness" of feeling when the vision closed; her falling into doubt as to whether she had not simply been delirious, her terrifying dream on the friday night,--noting carefully that "this horrible shewing" came in her sleep, "and so did none other"--none of the sixteen revelations of love came thus. then she tells how she was helped to overcome the dream-temptation to despair, and how on the following night another revelation, conclusion and confirmation of all, was granted to strengthen her faith. again her faith was assayed by a similar dream-appearance of fiends that seemed as it were to be mocking at all religion, and again she was delivered, overcoming by setting her eyes on the cross and fastening her heart on god, and comforting her soul with speech of christ's passion (as she would have comforted another in like distress) and rehearsing the faith of all the church. it may be noted here that julian when telling how she was given grace to awaken from the former of these troubled dreams, says, "anon all vanished away and i was brought to great rest and peace, without sickness of body or dread of conscience," and that nothing in the book gives any ground for supposing that she had less than ordinary health during the long and peaceful life wherein god "lengthened her patience." rather it would seem that one so wholesome in mind, so happy in spirit, so wisely moderate, no doubt, in self-guidance, must have kept that general health that _she_ could not despise who speaks of god having "no disdain" to serve the body, for love of the soul, of how we are "soul and body clad in the goodness of god," of how "god hath made waters plenteous in earth to our service and to our bodily ease,"[ ] and of how christ waiteth to minister to us his gifts of grace "unto the time that we be waxen and grown, our soul with our body and our body with our soul, either of them taking help of other, till we be brought unto stature, as nature worketh."[ ] julian mentions neither her name not her state in life; she is "the soul," the "poor" or "simple" soul that the revelation was shewed to--"a simple creature," in herself, a mere "wretch," frail and of no account. of her parentage and early home we know nothing: but perhaps her own exquisite picture of motherhood--of its natural (its "kind") love and wisdom and knowledge--is taken partly from memory, with that of the kindly nurse, and the child, which by nature loveth the mother and each of the other children, and of the training by mother and teacher until the child is brought up to "the father's bliss" (lxi.-lxiii.). the title "lady," "dame" or "madame" was commonly accorded to anchoresses, nuns, and others that had had education in a convent.[ ] julian, no doubt, was of gentle birth, and she would probably be sent to the convent of carrow for her education. there she would receive from the benedictine nuns the usual instruction in reading, writing, latin, french, and fine needlework, and especially in that common christian belief to which she was always in her faithful heart and steadfast will so loyal,--"the common teaching of holy church in which i was afore informed and grounded, and with all my will having in use and understanding" (xlvi.). it is most likely that julian received at carrow the consecration of a benedictine nun; for it was usual, though not necessary, for anchoresses to belong to one or other of the religious orders. the more or less solitary life of the anchorite or hermit, the anchoress or recluse, had at this time, as earlier, many followers in the country parts and large towns of england. few of the "reclusoria" or women's anchorholds were in the open country or forest-lands like those that we come upon in medieval romances, but many churches of the villages and towns had attached to them a timber or stone "cell"--a little house of two or three rooms inhabited by a recluse who never left it, and one servant, or two, for errands and protection. occasionally a little group of recluses lived together like those three young sisters of the thirteenth century for whom the _ancren riwle_, a rule or counsel for "ancres," was at their own request composed. the recluse's chamber seems to have generally had three windows: one looking into the adjoining church, so that she could take part in the services there; another communicating with one of those rooms under the keeping of her "maidens," in which occasionally a guest might be entertained; and a third--the "parlour" window--opening to the outside, to which all might come that desired to speak with her. according to the _ancren riwle_ the covering-screen for this audience-window was a curtain of double cloth, black with a cross of white through which the sunshine would penetrate--sign of the dayspring from on high. this screen could of course be drawn back when the recluse 'held a parliament' with any that came to her.[ ] before julian passed from the sunny lawns and meadows of carrow, along the road by the river and up the lane to the left by the gardens and orchards of the coniston of that day, to the little churchyard house that would hide so much from her eyes of outward beauty, and yet leave so much in its changeful perpetual quietude around her (great skies overhead like the ample heavenly garments of her vision "blue as azure most deep and fair"; little speedwell's blue by the crannied wall of the churchyard--_veronika_, true image, like the saint's "holy vernacle at rome") her vow[ ] might be: "i offering yield myself to the divine goodness[ ] for service, in the order of anchorites: and i promise to continue in the service of god after the rule of that order, by divine grace and the counsel of the church: and to shew canonical obedience to my ghostly fathers." the only reference that julian makes to the life dedicated more especially to contemplation is where she is speaking, as if from experience, of the temptation to despair because of falling oftentimes into the same sins, "especially into sloth and losing of time. for that is the beginning of sin, as to my sight,--and especially to the creatures that have given themselves to serve our lord with inward beholding of his blessed goodness."[ ] "_one thing have i desired of the lord, that will i seek after: that i may dwell in the house of the lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the lord, and to enquire in his temple_"--his sanctuary of the church or of the soul. _that_ was her calling. she had heard the voice that comes to the soul in spring-time and calls to the garden of lilies, and calls to the garden of olive-trees (where all the spices offered are in one cup of heavenly wine): _"surge, propera amica mea: jam enim hyems transiit, imber ambiit et recessit. surge, propera amica mea, speciosa mea, et veni." "arise: let us go hence."[ ] "for this is the natural yearnings of the soul by the touching of the holy ghost: god of thy goodness, give me thyself, for thou art enough to me; ... and if i ask anything that is less, ever me wanteth; but only in thee i have all"_ (v.). "a soul that only fasteneth itself on to god with very trust, either by seeking or in beholding, it is the most worship that it may do to him, as to my sight" (x.). "to enquire" and "to behold"--no doubt it was for these that julian sought time and quiet. for she had urgent questionings and "stirrings" in her mind over "the great hurt that is come by sin to the creature"--"afore this time often i wondered why by the great foreseeing wisdom of god the beginning of sin was not letted" ("mourning and sorrow i made over it without reason and discretion"); and also she was filled with desire for god: "the longing that i had to him afore" (xxvii.). moreover, this life to which julian gave herself was to be a life of "meek continuant prayers" "for enabling" of herself in her weakness, and for help to others in all their needs. for thought and worship could only be held together by active prayer: the pitiful beholding of evil and pain and the joyful beholding of goodness and love would be at war, as it were, with each other, unless they were set at peace for the time by the prayer of intercession. and _that_ is the call of the loving soul, strong in its infant feebleness to wake the answering revelation of love to faith that "all shall be well," and that "all is well" and that when all are come up above and the whole is known, all shall be seen to be well, and to have been well through the time of tribulation and travail. "at some time in the day or night," says the _ancren riwle_, which julian perhaps may have read, though as to such prayers her compassionate heart was its own director--"at some time in the day or night think upon and call to mind all who are sick and sorrowful, who suffer affliction and poverty, the pain which prisoners endure who lie heavily fettered with iron; think especially of the christians who are amongst the heathen, some in prison, some in so great thralldom as is an ox or an ass; compassionate those who are under strong temptations; take thought of all men's sorrows, and sigh to our lord that he may take care of them and have compassion and look upon them with a gracious eye; and if you have leisure, repeat this psalm, _i have lifted up mine eyes. paternoster. return, o lord, how long, and be intreated in favour of thy servants: let us pray._ 'stretch forth, o lord, to thy servants and to thy handmaids the right hand of thy heavenly aid, that they may seek thee with all their heart, and obtain what they worthily ask through jesus christ our lord.'" julian tells how in her thinking of sin and its hurt there passed before her sight all that christ bore for us, "and his dying; and all the pains and passions of all his creatures, ghostly and bodily; _and the beholding of this_--with all pains that ever were or ever shall be" (xxvii). from sin, except as a general conception, julian's natural instinct was to turn her eyes; but with this christly compassion in her heart in looking on the sorrows of the world she could not but take account of its sin. as she came to be convinced that "though we be highly lifted up into contemplation, it is needful for us to see our own sin,"--albeit we should not accuse ourselves "overdone much" or "be heavy or sorrowful indiscreetly"--so when sins of others were brought before her she would seek with compassion to take the sinner's part of contrition and prayer. "the beholding of other man's sins, it maketh as it were a thick mist afore the eyes of the soul, and we cannot, for the time, see the fairness of god, but if we can behold them with contrition with him, with compassion on him, and with holy desire to god for him" (lxxvi.). and notwithstanding all the stir and eager revival of the fourteenth century in religion, politics, literature and general life, there was much both of sin and of sorrow then to exercise the pitiful soul--troubles enough in norwich itself, of oppression and riot and desolating pestilence--troubles enough in europe, west and east,--wars and enslaving and many cruelties in distant lands, and harried armenian christians coming to the court of edward to plead for succour in their long-enduring patience. there was trouble wherever one looked; but to prayer, and to that compassion which is in itself a prayer, the answer came. indeed the compassion was its own first immediate answer: for "then i saw that each kind compassion that man hath on his _even-cristen_ (his fellow-christians) with charity, _it is christ in him_." this is the comfort that both comforts in waiting and calls to deeds of help. and such "charity" of social service was not beyond the scope of the life "enclosed,"--whether it might be by deed or, as more often, by speech.[ ] it is in her seeking for truth and her beholding of love that we best know julian. of the opening of the revelation she says: "in all this i was greatly stirred in charity to mine even-christians, that they might see and know the same that i saw: for i would it were comfort to them," and again and again throughout the book she declares that the "special shewing" is given not for her in special, but for all--for all are meant to be one in comfort as all are one in need. "because of the shewing i am not good, but if i love god the better: and in as much as ye love god the better it is more to you than to me.... for we are all one in comfort. for truly it was not shewed me that god loved me better than the least soul that is in grace; for i am certain that there be many that never had any shewing nor sight but of the common teaching of holy church that love god better than i. for if i look singularly to myself i am right nought; but in general [manner of regarding] i am, i hope, in oneness of charity with all mine even-christians. for in this oneness standeth the life of all mankind that shall be saved, and that which i say of me, i say in the person of all mine even-christians: for i am taught in the spiritual shewing of our lord god that he meaneth it so. and therefore i pray you for god's sake, and counsel you for your own profit that ye leave the beholding of a worthless creature [a "wretch"] it was shewed to and mightily, wisely and meekly behold god that of his special goodness would shew it generally, in comfort of us all" (ix.). thus julian turns our eyes from looking _on_ her to looking _with_ her on the revelation of divine love. yet surely in her we have also "a shewing"--a shewing of the same. she tells us little of her own story, and little is told us of her by any one else, but all through her recording of the revelation the simple creature to whom it was made unconsciously shews herself, so that soon we come to know her with a pleasure that surely she would not think too "special" in its regard. (for she herself in speaking of love makes note that the general does not exclude the special). perhaps we are helped in this friendly acquaintanceship by those endearingly characteristic little formulas of speech disavowing any claim to dogmatic authority in the statements of her views of truth: those modest parentheses "as to my sight," "as to mine understanding." "wisdom and truth and love," the dower that she saw in the gracious soul, were surely in the soul of this meek woman; but enclosing these gifts of nature and grace are qualities special to julian: depth of passion, with quietness, order, and moderation; loyalty in faith, with clearest candour--"i believe ... but this was not shewed me"--(xxxiii., lxxvii., lxxx.) pitifulness and sympathy, with hope and a blithe serenity; sound good sense with a little sparkle upon it--as of delicate humour (that crowning virtue of saints); and beneath all, above all, an exquisite tenderness that turns her speech to music. "_i will lay thy stones with fair colours._" "thou hast the dews of thy youth." hundreds of years have gone since that early morning in may when julian thought she was dying and was "partly troubled" for she felt she was yet in youth and would gladly have served god more on earth with the gift of her days--hundreds of years since the time that her heart would fain have been told by special shewing that "a certain creature i loved should continue in good living"--but still we have "mind" of her as "a gentle neighbour and of our knowing." for those that love in simplicity are always young; and those that have had with the larger vision of love the gift of love's passionate speech, to god or man, in word or form or deed, as treasure held--live yet on the earth, untouched by time, though their light is shining elsewhere for other sight. "from that time that the revelation was shewed i desired oftentimes to learn what was our lord's meaning. and fifteen years afterwards and more, i was answered in ghostly understanding, saying thus: _wouldst thou learn thy lord's meaning in this thing? learn it well: love was his meaning. who shewed it thee? love. what shewed he thee? love. wherefore shewed it he? for love. hold thee therein and thou shalt learn and know more in the same. but thou shalt never know nor learn other thing without end._" and if we, with no special shewing, might ask and, in trust of "spiritual understanding," might answer more--asking _to whom_, and _for whom_ was the revelation shewed, we might answer: _to one that loved_; for all that would learn in love. "_ecco chi crescerà li nostri amori_"[ ] "here is one who shall increase our love." blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see god. [ ] this must have been a friday--sacred day of the passion of christ--for easter sunday of was on the th of april (o.s.). so when the revelation finally closed and julian was left to "keep it in the faith"--the common christian faith--it was sunday morning, and the words and voices she would hear through her window opening into the church would be from the early worship of "the blessed common" assembled there. [ ] see the _ancren riwle_, part viii. _of domestic matters_, for counsels to anchoresses as to judicious care of the body: diet, washing, needful rest, avoidance of idleness and gloom, reading, sewing for church and poor, making and mending and washing of clothes by the anchoress or her servant. "ye may be well content with your clothes, be they white, be they black; only see that they be plain, and warm, and well made--skins well tanned; and have as many as you need.... let your shoes be thick and warm." [ ] _cf._ robert browning, _rabbi ben ezra_, xii. [ ] s. de cressy was probably the originator of the designation "mother juliana." the old name was _julian_. the virgin-martyr of the legend entitled "the life of st juliana" (early english text society) is called in the manuscripts, iulane, juliene, and juliane and julian. so also _lady julian berners_ is a name in the history of fifteenth century books. [ ] "so he kneeled at her window and anon the recluse opened it, and asked sir percival what he would. 'madam,' said he, 'i am a knight of king arthur's court and my name is sir percival de galis.' so when the recluse heard his name, she had passing great joy of him, for greatly she loved him before all other knights of the world; and so of right she ought to do, for she was his aunt."--malory's _morte d'arthur_, xiv. i. [ ] _manuale ad usum insignis ecclesie sarisburiensis_ (ed. of ), fo. lxix. _servitium includendorum._ [ ] "_pietatis_." [ ] the sins that julian mentions, "despair or doubtful dread," "sloth and losing of time," "unskilful [unpractical, unreasoning] heaviness and vain sorrow," seem to be all akin to that dreaded sin, besetting particularly the contemplative life, _accidia_. see _ancren riwle_ p. . "_accidies salue is gestlich gledshipe._ the remedy for indolence is spiritual joy, and the consolation of joyful hope from reading and from holy meditation, or when spoken by the mouth of man. often, dear sisters, ye ought to pray less, that ye may read more. reading is good prayer. reading teacheth how, and for what ye ought to pray. in reading, when the heart feels delight, devotion ariseth, and that is worth many prayers. everything, however, may be overdone. moderation is always best."--(pub. by the camden society). [ ] canticles ii. . st john xiv. . [ ] see the chapter "how an anchoress shall behave herself to them that come to her," in "the scale of perfection," by walter hilton (died ), edition of , p. . "since it is so that thou oughtest not to goe out of thy house to seek occasion how thou mightest profit thy neighbour by deeds of charity, because thou art enclosed; ... therefore who so will speake with thee ... be thou soon ready with a good will to aske what his will is ... for thou knowest not what he is, nor why he cometh, nor what need he hath of thee, or thou of him, till thou hast tryed. and though thou be at prayer, or at thy devotions, that thou thinkest loth to break off, for that thou thinkest that thou oughtest not leave god for to speake with any one, i think not so in this case, for if thou be wise, thou shalt not leave god, but thou shalt find him, and have him, and see him in thy neighbour as well as in prayer, onely in another manner. if thou canst love thy neighbour well, to speake with thy neighbour with discretion shall be no hindrance to thee.... if he come to tell thee his disease [distress] or trouble, and to be comforted by thy speech, heare him gladly, and suffer him to say what he will for ease of his own heart; and when he hath done, comfort him if thou canst, gladly, gently, and charitably, and soon break off. and then, after that, if he will fall into idle tales, or vanities of the world, or of other men's actions, answer him but little, and feed not his speech, and he will soon be weary, and quickly take his leave," etc. [ ] dante, _paradiso_, v. . part ii the manner of the book as an hert desirith to the wellis of watris: so thou god, my soule desirith to thee.... the lord sent his merci in the day: and his song in the nyght. ps. '_quemadmodum_'; from the _prymer_. without any special study of the literature of mysticism for purposes of comparison, in reading julian's book one is struck by a few characteristics wherein it differs from many other mystical writings as well as by qualities that belong to most or all of that general designation. the silence of this book both as to preliminary ascetic exercises and as to ultimate visions of the absolute, might be attributed to julian's being wholly concerned with giving, for comfort to all, that special sight of truth that came to her as the answer to her own need. she sets out not to teach methods of any kind for the gradual drawing near of man to god, but to record and shew forth a revelation, granted once, of god's actual nearness to the soul, and for this revelation she herself had been prepared by the "stirring" of her conscience, her love and her understanding, in a word of her _faith_, even as she was in short time to be left "neither sign nor token," but only the revelation to hold "in faith." moreover, the means that in general she looks to for realising god's nearness, in whatever measure or manner the revelation of it may come to any soul, is the immediate one of faith as a gift of nature and a grace from the holy ghost: faith leading by prayer, and effort of obedience, and teachableness of spirit, into actual experience of oneness with god. the natural and common heritage of love and faith is a theme that is dear to julian: in her view, longing toward god is grounded in the love to him that is native to the human heart, and this longing (painful through sin) as it is stirred by the holy spirit, who comes with christ, is, in each naturally developed christian, spontaneous and increasing;--"for the nearer we be to our bliss, the more we long after it" (xlvi., lxxii., lxxxi.). "this is the kinde [the natural] yernings of the soule by the touching of the holy ghost: _god of thy goodness give me thyself: for thou art enow to me, and i may nothing ask that is less that may be full worshippe to thee_." god is the first as well as the last: the soul begins as well as ends with god: begins by nature, begins again by mercy, and ends--yet "without end"--by grace. certainly on the way--the way of these three, by falling, by succour, by upraising--to the more perfect knowing of god that is the soul's fulfilment in heaven, there is a less immediate knowledge to be gained through experience: "_and if i aske anything that is lesse, ever me wantith_," for "it needyth us to have knoweing of the littlehede of creatures and to nowtyn all thing that is made, for to love and have god that is onmade." but this knowing of the littleness of creatures comes to julian first of all in a sight of _the goodness of god_; "for [to] a soule that seith the maker of all, all that is made semith full litil." by the further beholding, indeed, of god as maker and preserver, that which has been rightly "noughted" as of no account, is seen to be also truly of much account. for that which was seen by the soul as so little that it seemed to be about to fall to nothing for littleness, is seen by the understanding to have "three properties":--god made it, god loveth it, god keepeth it. thus it is known as "great and large, fair and good"; "it lasteth, and ever shall, for god loveth it."--yet again the soul breaks away to its own, with the natural flight of a bird from its autumn nest at the call of an unseen spring to the far-off land that is nearer still than its nest, because it is in its heart. "but what is to _me_ sothly [in verity] the maker, the keper and the lover,--i cannot tell, for till i am substantially oned [deeply united] to him, i may never have full rest ne very blisse; that is to sey, that i be so festined to him, that there is right nowte that is made betwix my god and me" (v., viii.). this "fastening" is all that in julian's book represents that needful process wherein the truth of asceticism has a part. it is not essentially a process of detaching the thought from created things of time--still less one of detaching the heart from created beings of eternity--but a process of more and more allowing and presenting the man to be fastened closely to god by means of the original longing of the soul, the influence of the holy ghost, and the discipline of life with its natural tribulations, which by their purifying serve to strengthen the affections that remaining pass through them. "_but only in thee i have all._" on the way this discovery of the soul at peace must needs be sometimes a word for exclusion, in parting and pressing onward from things that are made: in the end it is the welcome, all-inclusive. and julian, notwithstanding her enclosure as a recluse, is one of those that, happy in nature and not too much hindered by conditions of life, possess for large use _by the way_ the mystical peace of fulfilled possession through virtue of freedom from bondage to self. for it is by means of the tyranny of the "self," regarding chiefly itself in its claims and enjoyments, that creature things can be intruded between the soul and god; and always, in some way, the meek inherit the earth. "all things are yours; and ye are christ's." the life of a recluse demanded, no doubt, as other lives do, a daily self-denial as well as an initiatory self-devotion, and from julian's silence as to "bodily exercises" it cannot of course be assumed that she did not give them, even beyond the incumbent rule of the church, though not in excess of her usual moderation, some part in her christian striving for mastery over self. nor could this silence in itself be taken as a proof that ascetic practices had not in her view a preparatory function such as has by many of the mystics been assigned to them during a process of self-training in the earlier stages of the soul's ascent to aptitude for mystical vision. it is, however, to be noted that neither in regard to herself nor others do we hear from julian anything about an undertaking of this kind. to her the "special shewing" came as a gift, unearned, and unexpected: it came in an abundant answer to a prayer for other things needed by every soul.[ ] julian's desires for herself were for three "wounds" to be made more deep in her life: contrition (in sight of sin), compassion (in sight of sorrow) and longing after god: she prayed and sought diligently for these graces, comprehensive as she felt they were of the christian life and meant for all; and with them she sought to have for herself, in particular regard to her own difficulties, a sight of such truth as it might "behove" her to know for the glory of god and the comfort of men. according to julian the "special shewing" is a gift of comfort for all, sent by god in a time to some soul that is chosen in order that it may have, and so may minister, the comfort needed by itself and by others (ix.). in her experience this revelation, soon closed, is renewed by influence and enlightenment in the more ordinary grace of its giver, the holy ghost. but a still fuller sight of god shall be given, she rejoices to think, in heaven, to _all_ that shall reach that fulfilment of blessed life--the only mount of the soul set forth in this book. thither, by the high-road of christ, all souls may go, making the steep ascent through "longing and desire,"--longing that embodies itself in desire towards god, that is, in prayer. nothing is said by julian as to successive stages of prayer, though she speaks of different _kinds_ of prayer as the natural action of the soul under different experiences or in different states of feeling or "dryness." prayer is _asking_ ("beseeching"), with submission and acquiescence; or _beholding_, with the _self_ forgotten, yet offered-up; it is a thanking and a praising in the heart that sometimes breaks forth into voice; or a silent joy in the sight of god as all-sufficient. and in all these ways "prayer oneth the soul to god." to julian's understanding the only shewing of god that could ever be, the highest and lowest, the first and the last, was the vision of him as love. "hold thee therin and thou shalt witten and knowen more in the same. but thou shalt never knowen ne witten other thing without end. thus was i lerid that love was our lord's menyng" (lxxxvi.). alien to the "simple creature" was that desert region where some of the lovers of god have endeavoured to find him,--desiring an extreme penetration of thought (human thought, after all, since for men there is none beyond it) or an utmost reach of worship (worship from fire and ice) in proclaiming the absolute one not only as all that _is_, but as all that is _not_. julian's desire was truly for god in himself, through christ by the holy spirit of love: for god in "his homeliest home," the soul, for god in his city. therefore she follows only the upward way of the light attempered by grace, not turning back to the _via negativa_, that downward road that starting from a conception of the infinite "as the antithesis of the finite,"[ ] rather than as including and transcending the finite, leads man to deny to his words of god all qualities known or had by human, finite beings. julian keeps on the way that is natural to her spirit and to all her habits of thought as these may have been directed by reading and conversation: it does not take her towards that divine darkness of which some seers have brought report. hers was not one of those souls that would, and must, go silent and alone and strenuous through strange places: "homely and courteous" she ever found almighty god in jesus christ our lord. julian's mystical sight was not a negation of human modes of thought: neither was it a torture to human powers of speech nor a death-sentence to human activities of feeling. "he hath no despite of that which he hath made" (vi.). this seer of the littleness of all that is made saw the divine as containing, not as engulfing, all things that truly are, so that in some way "all things that are made" because of his love last ever. certainly she passes sometimes beyond the language of earth, seeing a love and a goodness "more than tongue can tell," but she is never inarticulate in any painful, struggling way--when words are not to be found that can tell all the truth revealed, she leaves her lord's "meaning" to be taken directly from him by the understanding of each desirous soul. so is it with the shewing of god as the goodness of everything that is good: "it is i--it is i" (xxvi.). certainly julian looks both downward and upward, sees love in the lowest depth, far below sin, below even mercy; sees love as the highest that can be, rising higher and higher far above sight, in skies that as yet she is not called to enter: "abysses" there are, below and above, like angela di foligno's "double abyss"; but here is no desert region like that where angela seems as "an eagle descending"[ ] from heights of unbreathable air, baffled and blinded in its assault on the sun, proclaiming the light unspeakable in anguished, hoarse, inarticulate cries; here is a mountain-path between the abysses and the sound as of a chorus from pilgrims singing: "praise to the holiest in the height and in the depth be praise";-- 'all is well: all is well: all shall be well.' moreover, julian while guided by reason is _led_ by the "mind" of her soul--pioneer of the path through the wood of darkness though reason is ready to disentangle the lower hindrances of the way; and where her instructed soul "finds rest," those things that are hid from the wisdom and prudence of reason only are to its simplicity of obedience revealed. even as her way is christ-jesus, and her walk by "longing and desire" is of faith and effort, so the end and the rest that she seeks is the _fulness_ of god, in measure as the soul can enter upon his fulness here and in that heavenly "oneing" with him which shall be by grace the "fulfilling" and "overpassing" of "mankind." "the mid-person willed to be ground and head of this fair end," "out of whom we ben al cum, in whom we be all inclosid, into whom we shall all wyndyn, in him fynding our full hevyn in everlestand joye" (liii.).[ ] the soul that participates in god cannot be lost in god, the soul that wends into oneness with god finds there at last its self. words of the spirit-nature fail to describe to man, as he is, this fulness of personal life, and julian falls back in one effort, daring in its infantine concreteness of language, on acts of all the five senses to symbolise the perfection of spiritual life that is in oneness with god (xliii.). it may be noted that in these "revelations" there is absolutely no regarding of christ as the "bridegroom" of the individual soul: once or twice julian in passing uses the symbol of "the spouse," "the fair maiden," "his loved wife," but this she applies only to the church. in her usual speech christ when unnamed is our "good" or our "courteous" lord, or sometimes simply "god," and when she seeks to express pictorially his union with men and his work for men, then the soul is the child and christ is the mother. in this symbolic language the love of the christian soul is the love of the child to its mother and to each of the other children. julian's mystical views seem in parts to be cognate with those of earlier and later systems based on plato's philosophy, and especially perhaps on his doctrine of love as reaching through the beauties of created things higher and higher to union with the absolute beauty above, which is god--schemes of thought developed before her and in her time by plotinus, clement, augustine, dionysius "the areopagite," john the scot, eckhart, the victorines,[ ] ruysbroeck, and others. one does not know what her reading may have been, or with what people she may have conversed. possibly the learned austin friars that were settled close to st julian's in conisford may have lent her books by some of these writers, or she may have been influenced through talks with a confessor, or with some of the flemish weavers of norwich, with whom mystical views were not uncommon. yet the mysticism of the "revelations" is peculiarly of the english type. less exuberant in language than richard rolle, the hermit of hampole, julian resembles him a little in her blending of practical sense with devotional fervour; but the writer to whom she seems, at any rate in some of her phrases, most akin is walter hilton, her contemporary.[ ] hilton, however, is very rich in quotations from the bible, while julian's only direct quotations from any book--beyond her reference to the legend of st dionysius--are one that belongs to christ: "i thirst" (xvii.), and two that belong to the soul: "lord, save me: i perish!" "nothing shal depart me from the charite of criste" (xv.). (and indeed these three are a fit embodiment of the christian faith as seen in her "revelations.") but julian, while perhaps more speculative than either of these typical english mystics, is thoroughly a woman. lacking their literary method of procedure, she has a high and tender beauty of thought and a delicate bloom of expression that are her own rare gifts--the beauty of the hills against skies in summer evenings, of an orchard in mornings of april. again and again she stirs in the reader a kind of surprised gladness of the simple perfection wherewith she utters, by few and adequate words, a thought that in its quietness convinces of truth, or an emotion deep in life. of a little child it has been said: "he thought great thoughts simply," and julian's deepness of insight and simplicity of speech are like the child's.[ ] "for ere that he made us he loved us, and when we were made we loved him" (liii.). "i love thee, and thou lovest me, and our love shall not be disparted in two" (lxxxii.). "_thou art my heaven._" "i had liefer have been in that pain till doomsday than have come to heaven otherwise than by him." "human is the vehemence," says a writer on julian's "revelations," of that reiterated exclusion of all other paths to joy. 'me liked,' she says, 'none other heaven.' once again she touches the same octave, condensing in a single phrase which has seldom been transcended in its brief expression of the possession that leaves the infinity of love's desire still unsatiated: '_i saw him and sought him, i had him, and i wanted him._' fletcher's tenderness, ford's passion lose colour placed side by side with the utterances of this worn recluse whose hands are empty of every treasure."[ ] sometimes with her subject her language assumes a majestic solemnity: "the pillars of heaven shall tremble and quake" (lxxv.); sometimes it seems to march to its goal in an ascent of triumphal measure as with beating of drums: "the body was in the grave till easter-morrow and from that time he lay nevermore. for then was rightfully ended" ... (close of chap. li.). generally, perhaps, the style in its movement recalls the rippling yet even flow of a brook, cheerfully, sweetly monotonous: "if any such lover be in earth which is continually kept from falling, i know it not: for it was not shewed me. but this was shewed: that in falling and in rising we are ever preciously kept in one love" (lxxxii.). but now and again the listener seems to be caught up to heaven with song, as in that time when her "marvelling" joy in beholding love "breaks out with voice":--"behold and see! the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood descended down into hell, and braste her bands, and delivered all that were there that belonged to the court of heaven. the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood overfloweth all earth and is ready to wash all creatures of sin which be of goodwill, _have_ been and _shall_ be. the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood ascended up into heaven to the blessed body of our lord jesus christ, and there is in him, bleeding and praying for us to the father, and is and shall be as long as it needeth; and ever shall be as long as it needeth; and evermore it floweth in all heavens, enjoying the salvation of all mankind that _are_ there, and _shall_ be--fulfilling the number that faileth" (xii.). the early english mystics make good reading,--even as to the mere manner of their writings we might say, if it were possible to separate the style from the freshness of feeling and the pointedness of thought that inform it; and though we do not, of course, have from julian,--a woman writing of the _revelations of love_,--the delightfully trenchant, easy address of hilton in his counsels as to how to scale the _ladder of perfection_--counsels both wise and witty--yet julian, too, with all her sweetness, is full of this every day vigour and common sense. and sometimes she puts things in a naïve, engaging way of her own, grave and yet light--as if with a little understanding smile to those to whom she is speaking:--"then ween we, who _be_ not all wise"; "that the outward part should draw the inward to assent _was not shewed to me_, but that the inward draweth the outward by grace and both shall be oned in bliss without end by the virtue of christ, _this_ was shewed" (lxi., xix.). rolle, hilton, and more especially the _ancren riwle_, give examples of that custom of allegorical interpretation of sacred scriptures that has fascinated many mystical authors, but one can scarcely suppose that this method would ever have been a favourite one with julian even if she had been in the way of dealing with literary parallels and references. for though she uses "examples," or illustrations (sometimes calling them "shewings," or "bodily examples") and also metaphorically figurative speech, she does not shew any interest in elaborate, arbitrary symbolism. at any rate she is too directly simple, it seems, and too much in the centre of realities, to be a writer that (without constraint of following the lines of others) would take as foundation for an argument or an exposition outward resemblances or verbal connections, fit perhaps to illustrate or enforce the truth in question, but lacking in relation to it that inward vital oneness whereby certain things that to man seem below him may become symbolic to him of others that he beholds as within or above him. exposition by analysis has been reckoned to be characteristic of the schoolmen rather than of the mystics,[ ] though surely a mystical sight may be served by an analytical process, and to see god in a part before or while he is seen in the whole is effected not without analysis of the subtlest kind. so we find analysis in julian's sight (rev. iii.): "_i saw god in a point_"; and in her conclusions from this: "_by which sight i saw that he is in all things_"; and in her immediate raising, from this conclusion, of the question: "_what is sin?_" and throughout her treatment of the problem in the scheme of her book. even for the merely formal task of distinguishing by number, julian, we see, will set briskly forward (though we may not feel much inclined to follow) and often she begins her careful dissections with: "in this i see"--four, five, or six things, as the case may be. her speech of spiritual revelations is, however, helped out less by numbers than by living and homely things of sight: the mother and the children and the nurse; lords and servants, kings and their subjects (with echoes of the language of court and chivalry); the deep sea-ground, waters for our service; clothing, in its warmth, grace and colour; the light that stands in the night, the hazel-nut, the scales of herrings.[ ] as one grows familiar with the "revelations" one finds oneself in the midst of a great scheme: a network of ideas that cross and re-cross each other in a way not very clear at first, perhaps, but not really in confusion. all through this treatise from its beginning, the revelation as a whole is in the mind of julian; interpolation by another writer is out of the question: the book is all of a piece, both as the expression of one person, in mind and character, and as the setting forth of a theological system. from the first we find julian holding her diverse threads of nature and mercy and grace for the fabric of love she is weaving, and all through she guides them in and out, with no hesitation, till at last the whole design lies fair before her, shewing the _goodness of god_. with regard to this scheme it may be noted that apart from her merely intellectual pleasure in arithmetical methods of statement, julian shews throughout a mystical sense of numerical correspondences. life, both as being and action, is, to her sight, in its perfection full of _trinities_; while there are _doubles_,--incident to its imperfection, as we may put it, perhaps, though the book itself does not mark this distinction in so many words--there are doubles wherein two things are partially opposed and require for their reconciling a third that will complete them into trinity. first, as the centre of all, there is the blessed trinity: all-might, all-wisdom, all-love: one goodness: father and son and holy ghost: one truth. to the first, second, and third persons correspond the verbs may, for all-powerful freedom to do; can, for all-skilful ability to do; will, for all-loving will to do. so also "the father _willeth_, the son _worketh_, the holy ghost _confirmeth_." another nomenclature of the holy trinity is, might, wisdom, goodness: one love; but that of might, wisdom, love (employed by abelard, aquinas, and the schoolmen generally) is the usual one, while _truth, wisdom, love,_ is employed in reference to that image of god wherein man is made: for man has not _created might_: his might is all in the uncreated might of god. man in his essential nature is "made-trinity," "like to the unmade blessed trinity"--a human trinity of truth, wisdom, love; and these respectively _see, behold, and delight in_ the divine trinity of truth, wisdom, love. man possesses _reason,_ which _knows, mind,_ or a feeling wisdom, which _wits,_ and _love,_ which _loves_. the making of man by the son of god as eternal christ, is the work of _nature_; the falling of man is "suffered" (allowed), and afterwards healed, by _mercy_; the raising of man to a higher than his first state is the work of _grace_. "in nature we have our being; in mercy we have our increasing; in grace we have our fulfilling." the work of grace by means of our natural reason enlightened by the holy ghost to see our sins, is _contrition_; by means of our naturally-feeling mind, touched by the holy ghost to behold the pain of the world, is _compassion_; by means of our nature-and grace-inspired love, which loves our maker and saviour (still by the separation of sin partially, painfully, hid from our sight) is greater _longing toward god_. this longing must become an active "desire": for the chief work that we can do as fellow-workers with god in achieving full oneness with him is _prayer_; of which there are three things to understand: its _ground_ is god by whose goodness it springeth in us; its _use_ is "to turn our will to the will of our lord"; its _end_ is "that we should be made one with and like to our lord in all things." and lastly we have for this life, both by nature and grace, the comprehensive virtue of _faith_, "in which all our virtues come to us" and which has in its own nature three elements: _understanding, belief,_ and _trust_. with faith, which belongs perhaps chiefly to reason,--faith is "nought else but a right understanding, with true belief and sure trust, of our being: that we are in god, and god in us, whom we see not," "a light by nature coming from our endless day, that is our father, god" (liv., lxxxiii.)--is also _hope_, which belongs to our feeling mind (our remembrance) and to the work of mercy in this our fallen state: "hope that we shall come to our substance (our high and heavenly nature) again." moreover, "charity keepeth us in hope and hope leadeth us in charity; and in the end all shall be _charity_" (lxxxv.). with these trinities and groups of threes are others, belonging to god and man, mentioned successively in the closing chapters of the book: three manners of god's beholding (or regard of countenance): that of the passion, that of compassion, and that of bliss; three kinds of longing god has: to teach us, to have us, to fulfil us; three things that man needs in this life from god: love, longing, and pity--"pity in love," to keep him now, and "longing in the same love" to draw him to heaven; three things by which man standeth in this life and by which god is worshipped: "use of man's reason natural; common teaching of holy church; inward gracious working of the holy ghost";--and last of all, "three properties of god, in which the strength and effect of all the revelation standeth," "_life, love and light_." again, julian speaks of things that are _double_, and this double state seems to be one of imperfection, though she does not explicitly say so. man's nature, she says, was created "double": "_substance_" or spirit essential from out of the spirit divine, and "_sensuality_" or spirit related to human senses and making human faculties, intellectual and physical. these two, the substance and sense-soul, in their imperfection of union through the frailty of created love (which needs the divine in its might to support it), became partially sundered by the failing of love. "for failing of love on our part, therefore, is all our travail"--from that comes the falling, the dying, and the painful travail between death from sin and life from god--both in the race and the individual. but christ makes the double into trinity: for christ is "the mean [the medium] that keepeth the substance and sense-soul together" in his eternal, divine-human nature, because of his perfect love; and christ-incarnate in his mercy, by this same perfect love brings these two parts anew and more closely together; and christ uprisen, indwelling in the soul thus united, will keep them forever together, in oneness growing with oneness to him. moreover, man being double also as "soul and body," needs to be "saved from double death," and this salvation, given, is jesus-christ, who joined himself to us in the incarnation and "yielded us up from the cross with his soul and body into his father's hands." in a mere reading of the book these repeated correspondences may be felt as wearisome, formal, fantastic,--or rather they may seem so when, as here, they are brought together and noted, for julian herself simply speaks of these different groups as they come in her theme. but when one tries to follow the _thought_ of this book amongst the heights and depths of the things that are seen and temporal and the things unseen and eternal, these likenesses, found in all, seem to afford one guidance and surety of footing, like steps cut out in a steep and difficult path. and as one goes on, and the whole of the meaning takes form, these significations of something all-prevailing give one a partial understanding such as julian perhaps may have had: the feeling, the "mind," of a certain half-caught measure in "all things that are," a proportion, a oneness. we are amongst free nature's mountains, but they do not rise haphazard: they shew a strange, a balanced beauty of line and light and shade, as convincing, if not as clear in its intention as the sunrise-lines and colouring of the euphrasy flower at our feet. we hear as we walk the wandering sound of "the vagrant, casual wind," but there is something in its rise and fall, and rising again, that has kinship with the flow and ebb and onrush of the lingering, punctual waves on the shore. _sursum corda._ [ ] the soon-forgotten petition of julian's youth for a "bodily sickness" does not seem to have had any connection in her mind with special revelation: it was desired neither as in any way a sign of invisible things nor as a direct means of beholding them. and probably, as a matter of fact, the sickness that was granted helped her in the way that she had desired, helped her to the sight of the revelation, not directly, but by drawing her spirit to that utter dependence on and trust in god that is death's first lesson for all, that uttermost self-devotion to god that is life's last exercise. this spiritual state, with all that through years had gone before of feeling and thought and life's experience, made her ready to be shewn with special largeness and clearness god's love: how it filled the empty place of sin and pain and sorrow with its divine fulness. as to the "bodily sight" introducing the revelation, a sight of "parts of the passion," which may be compared with "the xv. oos"--'_orationes_'--passion-prayers each beginning with '_o_' (_v. hora_ of sarum), it was recognised by julian herself, even at the time of her seeing it, as being a sight of things "not in substance or nature." in this recognition it was proved to be neither _mental delusion_ nor mere "raving" delirium. but it would, it seems, be natural that in her weakness of body and her exaltation of spirit (so tense that the strength of her self-surrender to death seemed to cast her back upon bodily life in the painless world between the two) some sort of _physical illusion_ should be brought about by her prolonged gaze upon the face of the crucifix, and that in her desire to enter into the sufferings of the passion as fully as those friends of her lord's that beheld it, julian thus gazing in the midst of night's shadows and the dim light of dawn should seem to herself to behold the sacred drops, depicted beneath the painted or sculptured crown of thorns, flow down "right plenteously." julian gave thanks for this and all the "bodily sight" as a gift from god. by him sickness and illusion, as well as things evil, are "suffered" to come, and by him revelation is given according to sundry times in diverse manners. gain of the spirit through failure of the body--and no less by illusions of fever than by trance-state visions their seers speak of, when death passes the spirit half through the gates--would indeed be accordant with the truth of the shewing that came to julian, how man is raised through shame and death into glory and life, since in the weakness of failing men the strength of christ is made perfect. [ ] see the bampton lectures on _christian mysticism_. w. r. inge. (p. .) [ ] see the introduction to _le livre des visions et instructions de la bienheureuse angèle de foligno_, traduit par ernest hello. paris, . [ ] "when that which drew from out the boundless deep turns again home." [ ] _v._ pp. , , , , ; _cf._ dionysius: "_on divine names._" cap. iv. (tr. by parker). s. aug. _conf._: b. i. ch. ; iii. ; iv. - ; vii. - . [ ] see the extract from hilton given as a note to chapter lvii. [ ] _little flowers of a childhood_ (in mem. j. d. w., oct. --march ). some of the thoughts of children,--some of the rising thoughts of a very little child who, like julian, faced the darkness of time (steadfast as dürer's pilgrim knight, gentle as chaucer's,) and beheld on his journey the shining of the eternal city,--might be set beside words of the mystics as shewing, perhaps, through their very simplicity, the oneness of truth that there is to see, and the oneness of souls that see it. here are convictions that the cause of love, felt within, "must be jesus' good spirit"; comfort in discovering of death's unreality (for if only the body, not the spirit, dies, "oh, then it is only _pretending-dying_!"); a flash of discernment, perhaps, as to the passing away of lifeless evil since although, to the child, indeed "it is a pity that some one did not come and kill the devil; and then he would be dead," yet he has his own eschatology: "well, when _we_ are all dead, the devil will be dead too." more significant is a sudden overawed realisation of the great universe (setting pause to his own run round in play), one door to a quick perception in the child's devout spirit of analogy binding truths unseen by sense: "is this world always going round, _now_?" ('yes.') "it stays still! still!--jesus is looking down now: we don't see him."--here, too, are habitual references to the things that are _meant to be_,--musings over the goodness and knowledge, the braveness and courtesy "meant to be" in a _man_; and here is a grateful, trusting sense of the real 'kindness' of 'wild' creatures and of hurting remedies. many of those simple utterances, careless yet arresting like a blackbird's song, and personal with the ardent love and clear reason of a child faithfully living and bravely dying, seem to attest a kinship with seers of truth to whom longer trial has offered a sterner strength of complex thinking, for wider service here, but who, although they may have learnt thus '_more_' in the knowledge of love, "shall never know nor learn _other_ thing without end."--"i understood none higher stature in this life than childhood." "it is not growing like a tree in bulk, doth make man better be. * * * * * a lily of a day is fairer far in may, although it fall and die that night, it was the plant and flower of light." for all of the company of saints have the sight of one vision, and be it in the steadfast fulfilment of labour, or from out of the merriment of play,--through the strong, bright peace of endurance, or the silent acquiescence of the will, led along valleys of darkness,--or again in some swift rush of prayer into the morning light,--_all_ of the saints, the babe and the ancient, beholding "the blissful countenance" say "with one voice": "it is well." "_amen. amen._" [ ] "catholic mystics of the middle ages." _edinburgh review_, october . [ ] in reference to introspection m. maeterlinck speaks of ruysbroeck as "the one analytical mystic." _ruysbroeck and the mystics_, p. . [ ] in ch. vii. de cressy's "the seal of her ring" gives a misreading. part iii the theme of the book "the phase of thought or feeling which we call mysticism has its origin in ... that dim consciousness of the _beyond_ which is part of our nature as human beings.... mysticism arises when we try to bring this higher consciousness into relation with the other contents of our minds. religious mysticism may be defined as the attempt to realise the presence of the living god in the soul and in nature, or, more generally, as the attempt to realise in thought and feeling, the immanence of the temporal in the eternal, and of the eternal in the temporal."--w. r. inge, _christian mysticism_. the bampton lectures for , p. . "what is paradise? all things that are; for all are goodly and pleasant and therefore may fitly be called a paradise. it is said also that paradise is an outer court of heaven. even so this world is an outer court of the eternal, or of eternity, and especially whatever in time, or any temporal creature manifesteth or remindeth us of god or eternity; for the creature is a guide and a path to god and eternity."[ ] "god is althing that is gode, as to my sight," says julian, "and the godenes that althing hath, it is he" (viii.). "_truth seeth god_," and every man exercising the human gift of reason may in the sight and in the seeing of truths, attain to some sight of god as truth. but "_wisdom beholdeth god_," and although the enlightenment of the spirit of wisdom for the discernment of vital truth is a grace that is granted in needful measure to him that seeks to be guided by it, it is perhaps those receivers of grace that are mystics by nature and habit that are the most ready in reaching forward while still on earth to wisdom's fullest and most immediate beholding of god as all in all. for theirs in the largest (and it may be the highest) efficiency, and in the fullest accordance with man's first gift of "reason natural," is the further gift that julian calls "_mind_": the gift of a certain spiritual sensitiveness whereby they are quick to take impression of eternal things unseen (seeing them either within or beyond the things of time that are seen) with surrender of self to partake of their life. for in this beholding of wisdom, response of the heart in purity and insight of the imagination in faith enhance each other, while the vision of the soul through both takes clearness. the mystic, who sees the wide-ruling oneness of god with all that is good--and thus, as the mystics say, with all that _is_,--may begin at any point the beholding of goodness and therein the beholding of god. "he is in the mydde poynt of all thyng, and all he doeth" (xi.). it is in the way of those thus fully endowed for the reaching to truth in its highest wisdom here, while they walk amongst the many manifestations of earth, to take them as delicate partial signs instinct with a single meaning. here is mystical perception:-- "to see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower; hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour";[ ] by a blackbird's sudden song overhear, "in woodlands within," a joy out of the heart of the life of life.[ ] speaking of the spiritual sight julian relates: "i saw god in a point.--by which sight i saw that he is in all things." to the mystical soul, quiet to listen to "the music of the spheres," all sweet accordant sounds are singing _holy, holy, holy_; to the mystical soul, "full of eyes within"--like those _creatures of life_ seen on the plain by the prophet of the law of life as renewed for hope, and seen in the heights by the herald of the evangel of life as fulfilled in love--all symmetrical sights are as doors that are opened in heaven. but it is most of all in the music and the symmetry made of adverse life and death by the power of love, as this is seen from highest to lowest, from lowest to highest, that the revelation of god as love that is all in all is received. and looking thereon in the highest manifestation, the manifestation of christ, which is made for all men, the mystics meet other beholders, who are not called "mystics," yet who have not merely in greater or less degree, with them, the common gift of reason, but, after their different manner and in their own share, the gift of the feeling "mind." for both from the seeing of truth and from the beholding of wisdom comes the "holy wondering delight in god" that is simply delight of love in love. so they of the east and they of the west sit down together to partake of the bread and the wine of the table of god in his kingdom. there is no other than one food of the divine life consecrated and made ready and offered to man for his human spirit to feed on; but the christian mystic finds an offering of that food, which is the sanctified life of the christ of god, not only in its constant presentment to the spirit alone, by the spirit of god through christ. to him, as to other christians, the sight and the offering of the life in god is given in that memorial, mediate, expectant sacrament consecrated for the spirit's nurture through those elected symbols of sense that are the most perfect and sacred symbols because in their earlier, natural use they most immediately minister to the whole human life on earth of the giver and of the receivers. but along with this chosen sacrament, and as one with it, there is shewn to the mystic the life divine in diverse manners of working: he sees god's christ from afar, _fore-sees_ the eucharistic sacrament of his most sacred death and life, _now_ raised in the bread and the wine on high,--seeing its promise low in the ground in the earliest, ageless life of the wheat and the vine: seed cast away, bruised corn of wheat, and dying body, and broken bread, and daily obedience; a hidden root, crushed fruit of the vine, and blood poured forth, and uplifted wine, and joy of love over death: one life. sometimes there is for the mystics a partaking of these lesser "wayside sacraments," sometimes a turning aside from their symbols; sometimes the old song of life in the lower creation awakens singing, sometimes it scarcely is heard. but always the _spirit_ of nature's signs as interpreted in man, above all in christ, lays its claim on the soul; always as sung by the chorus of human spirits that live on the "righteousness, peace, and joy" of the will of god, the new song of life through death has in it a summons and receives from one and another here, passing through much tribulation, its fuller concord of human achievement, or at least the desirous _amen_. so whether the mystic dwell much or little with the sights and sounds of sense, those things that are seen and heard by the _soul_ bear to him the command of his home, and the merest doorway glimpses, the echoes most distant, making their proffer of more and more within and beyond, say _come_. "i give you the end of a golden string: only wind it into a ball, it will lead you in at heaven's gate, built in jerusalem wall."[ ] (although this "following on to know," this winding of the truth caught hold of into a "perfect round" of thought and will and life, is probably not more easy for the mystics than for other people. "amore, amor, tu sei cerchio rotondo!"[ ]) god is in all; but "our soul may never have rest in things that are beneath itself" (lxvii.). "well i wot," says julian, "that heaven and earth and all that is made is great and large, fair and good," yet "all that is made" is seen as a little thing, the size of a hazel nut, held in the palm of her hand, when along with it her spiritual sight beholds the maker. and though we may find the maker in all things, we find him, both as maker and restorer, first and best, first and last, in the soul. there he is _alpha_, there _omega_. "it is readier to us to come to the knowing of god than to know our own soul" (in its fullest powers). "for our soul is so deep-grounded in god and so endlessly treasured, that we may not come to the knowing thereof till we have first knowing of god, which is the maker, to whom it is oned." and yet, "we may never come to full knowing of god till we know first clearly our own soul" (lvi.). the knowledge begins with god, but it begins with him in the lowest place of the soul rescued from sin by mercy and entered by grace. "for himself is nearest and meekest, highest and lowest, and doeth all" (lxxx.). to the soul that looks on christ a remembrance rises of its own "fair nature" made in his image; yet "our lord of his mercy sheweth us our sin and our feebleness by the sweet gracious light of himself" (lxxviii.). thus in the working of grace the soul comes to the knowledge both of its higher and lower parts. for in finding in itself both a natural response to the working of grace by its love and its longing after god, and a contrariness to the goodness of grace by its often failing and falling, it experiences both the action of the "godly will" (which is within it as a part of, and a gift from, its higher nature, "the substance") and the action of a "beastly will" (from the simple animal nature) which can will no moral good and which, "failing of love," falls into sin: whereby comes pain, with all the "travail" of good and evil in conflict during the course of restoration. but it is only when the sense-soul (wherein the higher will must overcome the lower) is at last brought up to heaven, enriched by all the profits of tribulation, and is united to the substance waiting there, "hid with christ in god," that we come to the perfect knowledge of god. for that knowledge, perfect in kind though always growing, can only begin when, being in our "full powers" and "all fully holy," we come to know clearly our own united perfected soul. this seems to be julian's view (lvi., etc.). julian says elsewhere that we have in us here such a "medley" of good and evil that sometimes we hardly know of others or of ourselves wherein we stand, but that each "holy assent" that we make (by the godly will) to the grace and will of god, is a witness that we are of god. a witness to our sonship, it might be said; and perhaps, taking julian's view for the time, we might think that as the lost son "came to himself," so the soul comes to the consciousness of the godly will; that as he arose and came to his father and found him, or rather was found by his father, so the soul receives the healing of christ in mercy and the leading of the holy ghost in grace; and that as at last, the son not only found his father but found his lost sonship--yet a better sonship than ever he had known before--so the soul comes at last to find, more and more fully, that new sonship which is of its nature, yet is more than its nature. for it finds the nature oneness which by creation it had with the son of god, enhanced and for ever sustained by grace. sometimes, truly, the mystical doctrine leads by tracks that are not easily followed, but it is perhaps only when her views are regarded in single parts, that any harm could be found in julian's statements--all qualified as they are by her "as to my sight." at first indeed it may startle one to read of her saints that are known in the church and in heaven "by their sins," to hear that the wounds left by sin are made "medicines" on earth and turned to "worships" in heaven; but then we remember the joy that shall be in heaven over "one sinner that repenteth," the love that loves much because much is forgiven. and yet we remember the little children in _their_ high faith and love and innocent days; and of such is the kingdom of god. but the child, with many "fair virtues," albeit imperfect, was likewise julian's type of the christian soul: "i understood no higher stature in this life than childhood." "to know our own soul"--it behoveth us to know our own soul--our high-nature soul, which is enclosed in god, and also our soul on the earth which christ-jesus inhabits, which has in it the "medley": "we have in us our lord jesus uprisen, we have in us the wretchedness and the mischief of adam's falling, dying" (lii.). but elsewhere julian gives this name "our own soul" to the church, seeing the church likewise as the dwelling and working-place of christ (lxii.). she has been speaking of the divine wisdom being as it were the mother of the soul, and now she seems to lead us to the church as to the nursery where he tends his children. "for one single person may oftentimes be broken, but the whole body of holy church was never broken, nor ever shall be, without end. and therefore a sure thing it is, a good and a gracious, to will meekly and mightily to be fastened to our mother, holy church, that is christ jesus. for the food of mercy that is his dearworthy blood and precious water is plenteous to make us fair and clean; the sweet gracious hands of our mother be ready and diligently about us. for he in all this working useth the office of a kind nurse that hath not else to do but to entend about the salvation of her child" (lxi.). each soul is indeed the soul of a person and most intimately knows itself in its personal experience, through which indeed alone it can come to knowledge of others. yet the single soul knows itself _best_ in the souls of all the saints, in the fellowship of the "blessed common," where every virtue is found, not in each, at this time, but in _all_--not now in the perfect height nor the fairest flowering, but at growth in that ground where each plant holds some likeness to christ. with julian the christian faith is not a thing added to the mystical sight: these are, as again and again she says, seen both as one. it is the _inherent_ christianity of her system that makes her teaching always, in a large way, practical. for the system came at first to be seen by prayerful searching made out of her practical need of an answer to the problem of sin and sorrow; the mystical vision came with "contrition, compassion, and longing after god," those wounds that her contrite, pitiful, longing heart had desired should be made more deep in her life. it is through the work of grace that julian reaches back to the gift of nature, its ground; and from the depths of this root-ground she rises soon again to the "springing and spreading" grace. so in the first of her shewings the "higher" truth is seen: "we are all in him beclosed," but in the last--the conclusion and confirmation of all--the lower, yet nearer, truth, which _all_ may know: "and he is beclosed in us." and speaking of this dwelling within the soul she speaks of his working us all into him: "in which working he willeth that we be his helpers, giving to him all our entending, learning his lores, keeping his laws, desiring that all be done that he doeth; truly trusting in him" (lvii.). julian had prayed to feel christ's dying pains, if it should be god's will, in order that she might feel compassion, and the visionary sight of his pain in the face of the crucifix filled her with pain as it grew upon her. "how might any pain be more to me than to see him that is all my life, all my bliss, and all my joy suffer?" yet the shewing of pain was but the introduction to, and for a time the accompaniment of, the revelation; the revelation, itself, as a whole, was of love--the goodness or active love of god. so the first shewing, as the ground of all the rest, was a large view of this goodness as the ground of all being. although through these earlier shewings the saviour's bodily pain is felt by julian so fully in "mind" that she feels it indeed as if it were bodily anguish she bore, it is in this very experience that the shewing of joy is made to her spirit. so when in the opening of the revelation she tells of beholding the passion of christ, her first unexpected word is of sudden joy from the inner sight of the love that god is: the sight of the trinity:--"and in the same shewing suddenly the trinity fulfilled my heart most of joy. (for where jesus appeareth, the blessed trinity is understood, as to my sight.)" and even as julian finds afterwards that the last word of the revelation is the same as the first: "_thou shalt not be overcome_," so the opening sight already shews her that which shall be revealed all through, for learning of "more in the same," and uplifts her heart to the fulness of joy that is shewn at the close. for she feels that this shock, as it were, of revelation--this sudden joy of seeing love in the midst of earth's evil, beyond and beneath and in the pain that is passing, is the entrance into the joy of the lord. "suddenly the trinity fulfilled my heart with utmost joy.--and so i understood it shall be in heaven without end to all that shall come there" (iv.). so at the close, when the vision was not of the love divine in that bending face beneath the crown of thorns, but of the human love that shall spring up to meet the divine out of the lowness of earth,--the vision of how from this body of death, as from an unsightly, shapeless, and stagnant mass of quagmire, there "sprang a full fair creature, a little child, fully shapen and formed, agile and lively, whiter than lily; which swiftly glided up into heaven"--the spiritual shewing to the soul is this: "_suddenly thou shalt be taken from all thy pain ... and thou shalt come up above and thou shalt have me ... and thou shalt be fulfilled of love and of bliss_" (lxiv.). and so in that early experience of julian's when in her love, abandoned to pity and worship, she would not look up to heaven from the cross, it was also the inward sight by the higher part of her soul of the higher part of christ's life, that heavenly love that could only rejoice, that overcame her frailty of flesh unwilling to suffer, and made her choose "only jesus in weal and in woe." "thou art my heaven" (xix.-lv.). "all the trinity wrought in the passion of jesus christ," though only the son of the virgin suffered, and in seeing this, julian saw "the bliss of christ's works," "the joy that is in the blissful trinity [by reason] of the passion of christ"; "the father willing all, the son working all, the holy ghost confirming all." this complexity of the divine-human life in the son of god, this union in christ jesus of serene untouched blessedness in the heavenly regions of his spirit with his bearing, in the active joy of a "glad giver," all the sin and sorrow of the world, is revealed as the comfort and confidence of man, whose own deepest experience is love that suffers, whose highest worship therefore must be of love that is strong to suffer. it was a double joy that was shewn in christ besides the bliss of the impassible godhead, which is the bliss of love without all time and beyond all deeds. for there was joy in the passion itself: "_if i might suffer more, i would suffer more_," and joy in its fruits: "_if thou art pleased, i am pleased_." thus, too, we are told of three ways in which our lord would have us behold his passion: first, "the hard pains he suffered on earth"; second, "the love that made him to suffer passeth as far all his pains as heaven is above earth"; third, "the joy and the bliss that made him to be well-satisfied in it."--"with a glad countenance he looked unto his wounded side, rejoicing" (xxii., xxiii., xxiv.). from the sight of love that is higher than pain comes the sight of love that is deeper than sin. julian had had the mystical shewing that god is all that is good,[ ] and is only good, is the life of all that is, and doeth all that is done, and she had reasoned, as others before her had reasoned, that therefore "sin hath no substance" and "sin is no deed." but perhaps it is those that are most concerned with god in creature things, that suffer most shaking from the sight of evil. those that seek god's kingdom in this present world, finding "the dark places of the earth" full of the habitations of cruelty, have continually the enemy as with a sword in their bones saying within them: "where is now thy god?" "i saw," says julian, "that he is in all things. i beheld and considered, with a soft dread, and thought: _what is sin?_" (xi.). so also it is immediately after the coming of the mystical shewing made "yet more highly": "_it is i, it is i, it is i that am all_," that the memory of her own experience is brought to her and she sees how in her longings after god, who is all the time so close about us, around us and within,--she had always been hindered from seeing and reaching him fully by the darkening, disturbing power of sin. "and so i looked generally upon us all, and methought: _if sin had not been, we should have all been clean, and like to our lord as he made us_" (xxvii.). thus came again the stirring of that old question over which "afore this time often i wondered," with "mourning and sorrow," "why the beginning of sin was not letted--for then, methought, all should have been well." to this darkness, crying to god, the light came first as by a soft general dawning of comfort for faith. "_sin is behoveable_ (it behoved that sin should be suffered to rise) _but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well._" yet julian, unable to take comfort to her heart over that which was still so dark to her intellect, stands "beholding things general, troublously and mourning," saying thus in her thoughts: "_ah good lord, how might all be_ well, for the great hurt that is come by sin to the creature?" (xxix.). the answer to this double question as to sin and pain is the central theme of the revelation, though much is still hidden and much is but dimly revealed as yet to faith. in brief account, the sight, enough for us now, is this: "mercy, by love, suffereth us to fail [of love] in measure, and in as much as we fail, in so much we die: for it needs must be that we die in so much as we fail of the sight and feeling of god that is our life.... and grace worketh our dreadful failing into plenteous, endless solace, and grace worketh our shameful falling into high, worshipful rising; and grace worketh our sorrowful dying into holy, blissful life" (xlviii.). "by the assay of this falling we shall have an high marvellous knowing of love in god, without end. for strong and marvellous is that love that may not and will not be broken for trespass. and this is one understanding of our profit. another is the lowness and meekness that we shall get by the sight of our falling" (lxi.). "and by this meek knowing after this manner, through contrition and grace, we shall be broken from all that is not our lord. and then shall our blessed saviour perfectly heal us and one us to him" (lxxviii.). _theodidacta, profunda, ecstatica_--so julian has been designated; perhaps she might in fuller truth be called _theodidacta, profunda, evangelica_. she is indeed a mystic, evangelical, practical. with all her fellow-christians and in the most deeply personal concern she looks with a tender mind on the redeeming work of god by christ in the "glorious satisfaction" ("_asseth_"), and in fervent response of love and thankfulness trusts in the blessed passion of christ, and in his sure keeping, and in all the restoring, fulfilling work by the holy ghost. but after the mystical manner she seeks "the beyond": that is, while in no way leaving the works of mercy and grace she seeks to go back to the ground or source of them, the goodness of god,--yes, to god himself. "i could not have perceived of the part of mercy but as it were alone in love." "the passion was a noble worshipful deed done in a time, but love was without beginning, is, and shall be without ending." the mystical vision is that which in outward nature sees the unseen within the seen, but it is also that which in spiritual things sees behind and beyond the temporal means, the eternal causes and ends (vi.). and it is surely here in the spiritual things, in the heart and centre of human existence, in the stress of sin and suffering, rather than amongst the gentle growing things, and flaming lights, and songs, and blameless creatures of nature that the beatific vision on earth is at its highest. for here are found united the _evangel_ and the _vision_ and the _life_ of love. "there the soul is highest, noblest, and worthiest, where it is lowest, meekest, and mildest": it is not in nature's goodness alone that we have our life, "all our life is in three," in nature, in mercy, in grace; "whereof we have meekness, mildness, patience and pity" (lviii., lix.). man's "spirit," the higher nature that julian talks of, may indeed be there in the heavenly places, as an infant's angel lying in the father's arms, always beholding his face in love's silence of waiting; but here in earthly places is the prodigal son returning, here too is the father's embrace, and here is his earliest greeting of the son that was lost and is found. and already here in the kingdom of heaven on earth (where _all_ grow pure in the sonship obedience of jesus christ), are those that are kept from the first as little children, taken up in his arms and suffered to sing their hosannahs, which perfect his praise. the revelation of love is all centred in the passion, and looking on the passion in time the soul sees, in vision, the lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world, the mind conceives how before all time the divine love took to itself in the wisdom of god the mode of manhood, and in time created man in the same, and how thus god could be and do all that man could be and do, could exercise love divine in human faith and courage: could "take our flesh" and live on the earth as "the man, christ-jesus," "in all points tempted like as we are," finding his daily bread in the will of the father, drinking with joy of the wine of life in the evening cup of death. "pain is passing," says julian, but in passing it leads forth love in man to its deepest living, its fairest height of pureness and strength and fulfilment. thus it behoved the captain of man's salvation to have his perfection here through suffering. it is the _lamb_ in the midst of the throne, the almighty love that was slain, that is shepherd to the martyrs, leading them unto living fountains of waters. he that bore the yoke gives rest to the heavy-laden; blessed is he that mourned: for he comforteth with his comfort. so in the mediæval story,[ ] the highest mystical vision, the sight of the holy grail, comes only to him that is pure from self, and looks on the bleeding wound that sin has left in man, and is compassionate, and gives himself to service and healing.--_can ye_ drink _of the cup i drank of?_--love's cup that is death and life.-- wine of love's joy i see thy cup red to the trembling brim with life outpoured, once lifted up, i drink, remembering him.-- it is the mourners who are comforted: those that bear griefs of their own, or bear griefs of others fully, do not despair, though the mere onlooker may well despair. thus the compassionate julian's vision is of _comfort_--comfort not for herself "in special," but for "the general man"--for all her fellow-christians. she who had long time mourned for the hurt that is come by sin to the creature, came to the sight of comfort not by turning her eyes away but by deeper compassion that found through the very wounds the healing of love on earth, the glory of love in heaven. she was "filled with compassion for the passion of christ," and thus she saw _his joy_; so afterwards, she tells, "i was fulfilled in part with compassion of all mine even-christians, for that well, well-beloved people that shall be saved. for god's servants, holy church, shall be shaken in sorrow and anguish and tribulation in this world, as men shake a cloth in the wind. and as to this our lord answered in this manner: a great thing shall i make hereof in heaven of endless worship and everlasting joys. yea so far forth as this i saw: that our lord joyeth of the tribulations of his servants, with ruth and compassion." "for he saith: _i shall wholly break you of your vain affections and of your vicious pride: and after that i shall together gather you, and make you mild and meek, clean and holy, by oneing to me_" (xxviii.). sin is indeed "the sharpest scourge," "viler and more painful than hell, without comparison," "an horrible thing to see for the loved soul that would be all fair and shining in the sight of god, as nature and grace teacheth." and darkness, which overhangs the soul while here it is "meddling with any part of sin," "so that we see not clearly the blissful countenance of our lord," is a lasting, life-long "natural penance" from god, the feeling of which indeed does not depart with actual sinning: "for ever the more clearly that the soul seeth this blissful countenance by grace of loving, the more it longeth to see it in fulness" (lxxii.). all this is in man's experience, with many other pains--pains which in individual lives have no proportionate relation to sin, though, in general, "sin is cause of pain" and "pain purgeth."--("_for i tell thee, howsoever thou do thou shalt have woe_"), (lxxvii., xxvii.). but the comfort revealed shews how sin, which "hath no part of being" and "could not be known but by the pain it is cause of," (sin which in this view may be compared to the nails of the passion--mere dead matter, though with power to wound unto death for a time the blessed life), sin, which is failure of human love,--leaves, notwithstanding all its horror, an opening for a fuller influx of divine love and strength.[ ] and as to _darkness_, "seeking is as good as beholding, for the time that god will suffer the soul to be in travail" (x.). and as to tribulation of every kind, "the passion of our lord is comfort to us against all this, and so is his blessed will" (xxvii.). the parts may seem to come by chance and to be "amiss," but the whole, and in the whole each part, is ordered. "and when we be all brought up above, then shall we see clearly in god the secret things which be now hid to us. then shall none of us be stirred to say: _lord, if it had been thus, then it had been full well_: but we shall all say with _one_ voice: _lord, blessed mayst thou be, for it is thus: it is well; and now we see verily that all things are done as it was then ordained before that anything was made_" (xi., lxxxv.). "moreover he that shall be our bliss when we are there, is our keeper while we are here"; and the last word of the revelation is the same as the first; "_thou shalt not be overcome._" "he said not: _thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be distressed_; but he said: _thou shalt not be overcome._" this is god's comfort. and that here, meanwhile, we should take his comfort is julian's chief desire and instruction. for julian, who speaking so much of sin as a strange and troubling sight, yet gives as examples of sin only a slothful mistrusting despondency,--speaks indeed of faith and hope and charity, compassion and meekness, but scarcely _exhorts_ except to the cheerful enduring of tribulation. so she gives counsel as to "rejoicing more in his whole love than sorrowing in our often fallings"; as to "living gladly and merrily for love's sake" in our penance of darkness (lxxii.-lxxxi.). and in general, for all experiences of life, "it is god's will that we take his promises and his comfortings as largely and as mightily as we may take them, and also he willeth that we take our abiding and our troubles as lightly as we may take them, and set them at nought" (lxiv., lxv., xv.). "we are all one in comfort," says julian, "all the gracious comfort was for all mine even-christians." sin separates, pain isolates, but salvation and comfort unite. and lastly, in this mystical vision of the oneness of man with god in christ, man is seen not only as united in himself in the diverse parts of his nature, and as one with his fellow man, but as joined to that which is below him. how often of one good and another, as of that fair and sacred "service of the mother"--"nearest, readiest, and surest"--"in the creatures by whom it is done," do we hear julian's confident word of sacramental declaration: "_it is christ_." "for god is all that is good, as to my sight, and god hath made all that is made: and he that loveth generally all his even-christians for god, he loveth all that is. for in mankind that shall be saved is comprehended all: that is to say, all that is made and the maker of all. for in man is god, and god is in all. and i hope," adds julian, in words that are fitting to take for her courteous, her tender, "_good speed_" ere we pass to her book--altogether like her as they are, even to the careful, conditional "if" (for _nothing,_ not even comfort, behoves to be "overdone much"), "i hope by the grace of god he that beholdeth it thus shall be truly taught and mightily comforted, if he needeth comfort" (ix.). _deus ubique est, et totus ubique est._ all things are gathered up in man, and man is gathered up in christ; and christ is gathered up in the bosom of the father. so the world of the lower creation makes promise: _all things are yours_; and the church says over its offering, lifted up: _ye are christ's_; and from the stillness the voice of peace is heard: _and christ is god's_. "all the promises of god in him are _yea_ and in him _amen_, unto the glory of god by us." all the promises of god: the blossom that floated to the ground; "the lily of a day" that "fell and died that night"; the "little child, whiter than lily, that swiftly glided up into heaven"--all the utterances silenced here--in him are _yea_ and in him _amen: yea_ on earth and _amen_ for ever. "_he turneth the shadow of death into the morning._" _may_ . [ ] _theologia germanica_, chap. . [ ] blake's poems. [ ] _memorabilia of jesus_, by w. peyton, p. . [ ] gilchrist's _life and works of william blake_, vol. ii. [ ] _amor de caritade_, by jacopone da todi (formerly ascribed to s. francis of assisi). [ ] "_quid me interrogas de bono? unus est bonus, deus._"--s. matt. xix. . [ ] _a key to wagner's parsifal_, by h. von wolzogen, tr. by ashton ellis. [ ] goodness is active love--love that moves. drawing back from the finite creature, as a wave from the shore, it "suffers" sin's void to appear. but this lack of itself is allowed for the time, that so returning again in its force, to which evil is nothing, it may cover the desolate nature with deepness and highness and fulness unknown before. (see lvii.). revelations of divine love chapter i "a revelation of love--in sixteen shewings" this is a revelation of love that jesus christ, our endless bliss, made in sixteen shewings, or revelations particular. of the which the first is of his precious crowning with thorns; and therewith was comprehended and specified the trinity, with the incarnation, and unity betwixt god and man's soul; with many fair shewings of endless wisdom and teachings of love: in which all the shewings that follow be grounded and oned.[ ] the second is the changing of colour of his fair face in token of his dearworthy[ ] passion. the third is that our lord god, allmighty wisdom, all-love, right as verily as he hath made everything that is, all-so verily he doeth and worketh all-thing that is done. the fourth is the scourging of his tender body, with plenteous shedding of his blood. the fifth is that the fiend is overcome by the precious passion of christ. the sixth is the worshipful[ ] thanking by our lord god in which he rewardeth his blessed servants in heaven. the seventh is [our] often feeling of weal and woe; (the feeling of weal is gracious touching and lightening, with true assuredness of endless joy; the feeling of woe is temptation by heaviness and irksomeness of our fleshly living;) with ghostly understanding that we are kept all as securely in love in woe as in weal, by the goodness of god. the eighth is of the last pains of christ, and his cruel dying. the ninth is of the pleasing which is in the blissful trinity by the hard passion of christ and his rueful dying: in which joy and pleasing he willeth that we be solaced and mirthed[ ] with him, till when we come to the fulness in heaven. the tenth is, our lord jesus sheweth in love his blissful heart even cloven in two, rejoicing. the eleventh is an high ghostly shewing of his dearworthy mother. the twelfth is that our lord is most worthy being. the thirteenth is that our lord god willeth we have great regard to all the deeds that he hath done: in the great nobleness of the making of all things; and the excellency of man's making, which is above all his works; and the precious amends[ ] that he hath made for man's sin, turning all our blame into endless worship.[ ] in which shewing also our lord saith: _behold and see! for by the same might, wisdom, and goodness that i have done all this, by the same might, wisdom, and goodness i shall make well all that is not well; and thou shalt see it._ and in this he willeth that we keep us in the faith and truth of holy church, not desiring to see into his secret things now, save as it belongeth to us in this life. the fourteenth is that our lord is the ground of our prayer. herein were seen two properties: the one is rightful prayer, the other is steadfast trust; which he willeth should both be alike large; and thus our prayer pleaseth him and he of his goodness fulfilleth it. the fifteenth is that we shall suddenly be taken from all our pain and from all our woe, and of his goodness we shall come up above, where we shall have our lord jesus for our meed and be fulfilled with joy and bliss in heaven. the sixteenth is that the blissful trinity, our maker, in christ jesus our saviour endlessly dwelleth in our soul, worshipfully ruling and protecting all things, us mightily and wisely saving and keeping, for love; and we shall not be overcome of our enemy. [ ] made one, united. [ ] precious, honoured. [ ] honour-bestowing. [ ] made glad. [ ] ms. "asseth" = satisfaction, making-enough. [ ] honour, glory. chapter ii "a simple creature unlettered.--which creature afore desired three gifts of god" these revelations were shewed to a simple creature unlettered,[ ] the year of our lord , the thirteenth day of may. which creature [had] afore desired three gifts of god. the first was mind of his passion; the second was bodily sickness in youth, at thirty years of age; the third was to have of god's gift three wounds. as to the first, methought i had some feeling in the passion of christ, but yet i desired more by the grace of god. methought i would have been that time with mary magdalene, and with other that were christ's lovers, and therefore i desired a bodily sight wherein i might have more knowledge of the bodily pains of our saviour and of the compassion of our lady and of all his true lovers that saw, that time, his pains. for i would be one of them and suffer with him. other sight nor shewing of god desired i never none, till the soul were disparted from the body. the cause of this petition was that after the shewing i should have the more true mind in the passion of christ. the second came to my mind with contrition; [i] freely desiring that sickness [to be] so hard as to death, that i might in that sickness receive all my rites of holy church, myself thinking that i should die, and that all creatures might suppose the same that saw me: for i would have no manner of comfort of earthly life. in this sickness i desired to have all manner of pains bodily and ghostly that i should have if i should die, (with all the dreads and tempests of the fiends) except the outpassing of the soul. and this i meant[ ] for [that] i would be purged, by the mercy of god, and afterward live more to the worship of god because of that sickness. and that for the more furthering[ ] in my death: for i desired to be soon with my god. these two desires of the passion and the sickness i desired with a condition, saying thus: _lord, thou knowest what i would,--if it be thy will that i have it--; and if it be not thy will, good lord, be not displeased: for i will nought but as thou wilt._ for the third [petition], by the grace of god and teaching of holy church i conceived a mighty desire to receive three wounds in my life: that is to say, the wound of very contrition, the wound of kind[ ] compassion, and the wound of steadfast[ ] longing toward god.[ ] and all this last petition i asked without any condition. these two desires aforesaid passed from my mind, but the third dwelled with me continually. [ ] "that cowde no letter" = unskilled in letters. [ ] thought of, designed. [ ] ms. "speed." [ ] _i.e._ natural. [ ] ms. "wilful" = earnest, with set will. [ ] for these wounds see xvii. p. , xxvii. p. , xxviii., lxxii. and xxxix. chapter iii "i desired to suffer with him" and when i was thirty years old and a half, god sent me a bodily sickness, in which i lay three days and three nights; and on the fourth night i took all my rites of holy church, and weened not to have lived till day. and after this i languored forth[ ] two days and two nights, and on the third night i weened oftentimes to have passed;[ ] and so weened they that were with me. and being in youth as yet, i thought it great sorrow to die;--but for nothing that was in earth that meliked to live for, nor for no pain that i had fear of: for i trusted in god of his mercy. but it was to have lived that i might have loved god better, and longer time, that i might have the more knowing and loving of god in bliss of heaven. for methought all the time that i had lived here so little and so short in regard of that endless bliss,--i thought [it was as] nothing. wherefore i thought: _good lord, may my living no longer be to thy worship!_[ ] and i understood by my reason and by my feeling of my pains that i should die; and i assented fully with all the will of my heart to be at god's will. thus i dured till day, and by then my body was dead from the middle downwards, as to my feeling. then was i minded to be set upright, backward leaning, with help,--for to have more freedom of my heart to be at god's will, and thinking on god while my life would last. my curate was sent for to be at my ending, and by that time when he came i had set my eyes, and might[ ] not speak. he set the cross before my face and said: _i have brought thee the image of thy maker and saviour: look thereupon and comfort thee therewith_. methought i was well [as it was], for my eyes were set uprightward unto heaven, where i trusted to come by the mercy of god; but nevertheless i assented to set my eyes on the face of the crucifix, if i might;[ ] and so i did. for methought i might longer dure to look even-forth[ ] than right up. after this my sight began to fail, and it was all dark about me in the chamber, as if it had been night, save in the image of the cross whereon i beheld a common light; and i wist not how. all that was away from[ ] the cross was of horror to me, as if it had been greatly occupied by the fiends. after this the upper[ ] part of my body began to die, so far forth that scarcely i had any feeling;--with shortness of breath. and then i weened in sooth to have passed. and in this [moment] suddenly all my pain was taken from me, and i was as whole (and specially in the upper part of my body) as ever i was afore. i marvelled at this sudden change; for methought it was a privy working of god, and not of nature. and yet by the feeling of this ease i trusted never the more to live; nor was the feeling of this ease any full ease unto me: for methought i had liefer have been delivered from this world. then came suddenly to my mind that i should desire the second wound of our lord's gracious gift: that my body might be fulfilled with mind and feeling of his blessed passion. for i would that his pains were my pains, with compassion and afterward longing to god. but in this i desired never bodily sight nor shewing of god, but compassion such as a kind[ ] soul might have with our lord jesus, that for love would be a mortal man: and therefore i desired to suffer with him. [ ] "i langorid forth" = languished on. [ ] i thought often that i was about to die. [ ] or it may be, at in de cressy's version: _may my living be no longer to thy worship?_ [ ] _i.e._ could. [ ] _i.e._ could. [ ] straight forward. [ ] ms. "beside." [ ] ms. "over." [ ] "kinde," true to its nature that was made after the likeness of the creating son of god, the type and the head of mankind,--therefore loving, and sympathetic with him, and compassionate of his earthly sufferings: who, himself, for love's sake, suffered as man. _the first revelation_ chapter iv "i saw ... as it were in the time of his passion.... and in the same shewing suddenly the trinity filled my heart with utmost joy" in this [moment] suddenly i saw the red blood trickle down from under the garland hot and freshly and right plenteously, as it were in the time of his passion when the garland of thorns was pressed on his blessed head who was both god and man, the same that suffered thus for me. i conceived truly and mightily that it was himself shewed it me, without any mean.[ ] and in the same shewing suddenly the trinity fulfilled my heart most of joy. and so i understood it shall be in heaven without end to all that shall come there. for the trinity is god: god is the trinity; the trinity is our maker and keeper, the trinity is our everlasting love and everlasting joy and bliss, by our lord jesus christ. and this was shewed in the first [shewing] and in all: for where jesus appeareth, the blessed trinity is understood, as to my sight. and i said: _benedicite domine!_ this i said for reverence in my meaning, with mighty voice; and full greatly was astonied for wonder and marvel that i had, that he that is so reverend and dreadful will be so homely with a sinful creature living in wretched flesh. this [shewing] i took for the time of my temptation,--for methought by the sufferance of god i should be tempted of fiends ere i died. through this sight of the blessed passion, with the godhead that i saw in mine understanding, i knew well that _it_ was strength enough for me, yea, and for all creatures living, against all the fiends of hell and ghostly temptation. in this [shewing] he brought our blessed lady to my understanding. i saw her ghostly, in bodily likeness: a simple maid and a meek, young of age and little waxen above a child, in the stature that she was when she conceived. also god shewed in part the wisdom and the truth of her soul: wherein i understood the reverent beholding in which she beheld her god and maker, marvelling with great reverence that he would be born of her that was a simple creature of his making. and this wisdom and truth: knowing the greatness of her maker and the littleness of herself that was made,--caused her to say full meekly to gabriel: _lo me, god's handmaid!_ in this sight[ ] i understood soothly that she is more than all that god made beneath her in worthiness and grace; for above her is nothing that is made but the blessed [manhood][ ] of christ, as to my sight. [ ] intermediary--thing or person. see vi., xix., xxxv., lv. [ ] either: _in this sight_--shewing--_of her;_ or _in this her sight_,--insight--beholding (vii., xliv., lxv.). see rev. xi. ch. xxv., "for our lord shewed me nothing in special but our lady saint mary; and her he shewed three times." the first shewing is here (a _sight_ referred to in ch. vii. and elsewhere); the second, in ch. xviii.; the third, in ch. xxv. [ ] this word is in s. de cressy's edition. chapter v "god, of thy goodness, give me thyself;--only in thee i have all" in this same time our lord shewed me a spiritual[ ] sight of his homely loving. i saw that he is to us everything that is good and comfortable for us: he is our clothing that for love wrappeth us, claspeth us, and all encloseth[ ] us for tender love, that he may never leave us; being to us all-thing that is good, as to mine understanding. also in this he shewed me a little thing, the quantity of an hazel-nut, in the palm of my hand; and it was as round as a ball. i looked thereupon with eye of my understanding, and thought: _what may this be?_ and it was answered generally thus: _it is all that is made._ i marvelled how it might last, for methought it might suddenly have fallen to naught for little[ness]. and i was answered in my understanding: _it lasteth, and ever shall [last] for that god loveth it._ and so all-thing hath the being by the love of god. in this little thing i saw three properties. the first is that god made it, the second is that god loveth it, the third, that god keepeth it. but what is to me verily the maker, the keeper, and the lover,--i cannot tell; for till i am substantially oned[ ] to him, i may never have full rest nor very bliss: that is to say, till i be so fastened to him, that there is right nought that is made betwixt my god and me. it needeth us to have knowing of the littleness of creatures and to hold as nought[ ] all-thing that is made, for to love and have god that is unmade. for this is the cause why we be not all in ease of heart and soul: that we seek here rest in those things that are so little, wherein is no rest, and know not our god that is all-mighty, all-wise, all-good. for he is the very rest. god willeth to be known, and it pleaseth him that we rest in him; for all that is beneath him sufficeth not us. and this is the cause why that no soul is rested till it is made nought as to all[ ] things that are made. when it is willingly made nought, for love, to have him that is all, then is it able to receive spiritual rest. also our lord god shewed that it is full great pleasance to him that a helpless soul come to him simply and plainly and homely. for this is the natural yearnings of the soul, by the touching of the holy ghost (as by the understanding that i have in this shewing): _god, of thy goodness, give me thyself: for thou art enough to me, and i may nothing ask that is less that may be full worship to thee; and if i ask anything that is less, ever me wanteth,--but only in thee i have all._ and these words are full lovely to the soul, and full near touch they the will of god and his goodness. for his goodness comprehendeth all his creatures and all his blessed works, and overpasseth[ ] without end. for he is the endlessness, and he hath made us only to himself, and restored us by his blessed passion, and keepeth us in his blessed love; and all this of his goodness. [ ] ms. "ghostly," and so, generally, throughout the ms. [ ] "becloseth," and so generally. [ ] _i.e._ in essence united. [ ] "to nowtyn." [ ] "nowtid of." de cressy: "_naughted_ (emptied)." [ ] surpasseth. chapter vi "the goodness of god is the highest prayer, and it cometh down to the lowest part of our need" this shewing was made to learn our soul wisely to cleave to the goodness of god. and in that time the custom of our praying was brought to mind: how we use for lack of understanding and knowing of love, to take many means [whereby to beseech him].[ ] then saw i truly that it is more worship to god, and more very delight, that we faithfully[ ] pray to himself of his goodness and cleave thereunto by his grace, with true understanding, and steadfast by love, than if we took all the means that heart can think. for if we took all these means, it is too little, and not full worship to god: but in his goodness is all the whole, and _there_ faileth right nought. for this, as i shall tell, came to my mind in the same time: we pray to god for [the sake of] his holy flesh and his precious blood, his holy passion, his dearworthy death and wounds: and all the blessed kindness,[ ] the endless life that we have of all this, is his goodness. and we pray him for [the sake of] his sweet mother's love that him bare; and all the help we have of her is of his goodness. and we pray by his holy cross that he died on, and all the virtue and the help that we have of the cross, it is of his goodness. and on the same wise, all the help that we have of special saints and all the blessed company of heaven, the dearworthy love and endless friendship that we have of them, it is of his goodness. for god of his goodness hath ordained means to help us, full fair and many: of which the chief and principal mean is the blessed nature that he took of the maid, with all the means that go afore and come after which belong to our redemption and to endless salvation. wherefore it pleaseth him that we seek him and worship through means, understanding that he is the goodness of all. for the goodness of god is the highest prayer, and it cometh down to the lowest part of our need. it quickeneth our soul and bringeth it on life, and maketh it for to waxen in grace and virtue. it is nearest in nature; and readiest in grace: for _it_ is the same grace that the soul seeketh, and ever shall seek till we know verily that he hath us all in himself enclosed. for he hath no despite of that he hath made, nor hath he any disdain to serve us at the simplest office that to our body belongeth in nature, for love of the soul that he hath made to his own likeness. for as the body is clad in the cloth, and the flesh in the skin, and the bones in the flesh, and the heart in the whole,[ ] so are we, soul and body, clad in the goodness of god, and enclosed. yea, and more homely: for all these may waste and wear away, but the goodness of god is ever whole; and more near to us, without any likeness; for truly our lover desireth that our soul cleave to him with all its might, and that we be ever-more cleaving to his goodness. for of all things that heart may think, this pleaseth most god, and soonest speedeth [the soul]. for our soul is so specially loved of him that is highest, that it overpasseth the knowing of all creatures: that is to say, there is no creature that is made that may [fully] know[ ] how much and how sweetly and how tenderly our maker loveth us. and therefore we may with grace and his help stand in spiritual beholding, with everlasting marvel of this high, overpassing, inestimable[ ] love that almighty god hath to us of his goodness. and therefore we may ask of our lover with reverence all that we will. for our natural[ ] will is to have god, and the good will of god is to have us; and we may never cease from willing nor from longing till we have him in fullness of joy: and then may we no more desire. for he willeth that we be occupied in knowing and loving till the time that we shall be fulfilled in heaven; and therefore was this lesson of love shewed, with all that followeth, as ye shall see. for the strength and the ground of all was shewed in the first sight. for of all things the beholding and the loving of the maker maketh the soul to seem less in his own sight, and most filleth him with reverent dread and true meekness; with plenty of charity to his even-christians.[ ] [ ] ms. "to make many menys." so in _letter_ of _the paston letters_, - a.d.--"our soverayn lord hath wonne the feld, & uppon the munday next after palmesunday, he was resseved in york with gret solempnyte & processyons. and the mair & comons of the said cite mad ther menys to have grace be [by] lord montagu & lord barenars, which be for the kyngs coming in to the said cite, which graunted hem [them] grace." _letter_ (from margaret paston).--"your ryth wele willers have kounselyd me that i xuld kownsell you to maken other menys than ye have made, to other folks, that wold spede your matyrs better than they have done thatt ye have spoken to therof" (ed. by james gairdner, vol i.). see ch. iv. p. . [ ] _i.e._ trustingly. [ ] bond as of relationship. [ ] "the bouke" = the bulk, the thorax. [ ] "witten." [ ] or, as in s. de cressy, "immeasurable." the word, however, looks like "oninestimable" with the "on" blotted or erased. [ ] "kindly." [ ] "to his even cristen"--fellow-christians ("even" = equal). _hamlet_, act v. sc. i. "great folk ... more than their even christian." chapter vii "the shewing is not other than of faith, nor less nor more" and [it was] to learn us this, as to mine understanding, [that] our lord god shewed our lady saint mary in the same time: that is to say, the high wisdom and truth _she_ had in beholding of her maker so great, so holy, so mighty, and so good. this greatness and this nobleness of the beholding of god fulfilled her with reverent dread, and withal she saw herself so little and so low, so simple and so poor, in regard of[ ] her lord god, that this reverent dread fulfilled her with meekness. and thus, by this ground [of meekness] she was fulfilled with grace and with all manner of virtues, and overpasseth all creatures. in all the time that he shewed this that i have told now in spiritual sight, i saw the bodily sight lasting of the plenteous bleeding of the head. the great drops of blood fell down from under the garland like pellots, seeming as it had come out of the veins; and in the coming out they were brown-red, for the blood was full thick; and in the spreading-abroad they were bright-red; and when they came to the brows, then they vanished; notwithstanding, the bleeding continued till many things were seen and understood. the fairness and the lifelikeness is like nothing but the same; the plenteousness is like to the drops of water that fall off the eaves after a great shower of rain, that fall so thick that no man may number them with bodily wit; and for the roundness, they were like to the scale of herring, in the spreading on the forehead. these three came to my mind in the time: pellots, for roundness, in the coming out of the blood; the scale of herring, in the spreading in the forehead, for roundness; the drops off eaves, for the plenteousness innumerable. this shewing was quick and life-like, and horrifying and dreadful, sweet and lovely. and of all the sight it was most comfort to me that our god and lord that is so reverend and dreadful, is so homely and courteous: and this most fulfilled me with comfort and assuredness of soul. and to the understanding of this he shewed this open example:-- it is the most worship that a solemn king or a great lord may do a poor servant if he will be homely with him, and specially if he sheweth it _himself_, of a full true meaning, and with a glad cheer, both privately and in company. then thinketh this poor creature thus: _and what might this noble lord do of more worship and joy to me than to shew me that am so simple this marvellous homeliness? soothly it is more joy and pleasance to me than [if] he gave me great gifts and were himself strange in manner._ this bodily example was shewed so highly that man's heart might be ravished and almost forgetting itself for joy of the great homeliness. thus it fareth with our lord jesus and with us. for verily it is the most joy that may be, as to my sight, that he that is highest and mightiest, noblest and worthiest, is lowest and meekest, homeliest and most courteous: and truly and verily this marvellous joy shall be shewn us all when we see him. and this willeth our lord that we seek for and trust to, joy and delight in, comforting us and solacing us, as we may with his grace and with his help, unto the time that we see it verily. for the most fulness of joy that we shall have, as to my sight, is the marvellous courtesy and homeliness of our father, that is our maker, in our lord jesus christ that is our brother and our saviour. but this marvellous homeliness may no man fully see in this time of life, save he have it of special shewing of our lord, or of great plenty of grace inwardly given of the holy ghost. but faith and belief with charity deserveth the meed: and so it is had, by grace; for in faith, with hope and charity, our life is grounded. the shewing, made to whom that god will, plainly teacheth the same, opened and declared, with many privy points belonging to our faith which be worshipful to know. and when the shewing which is given in a time is passed and hid, then the faith keepeth [it] by grace of the holy ghost unto our life's end. and thus through the shewing it is not other than of faith, nor less nor more; as it may be seen in our lord's teaching in the same matter, by that time that it shall come to the end. [ ] _i.e._ seen at the same time as, or in comparison with. see the note to ch. iv. p. . chapter viii "in all this i was greatly stirred in charity to my fellow-christians that they might see and know the same that i saw" and as long as i saw this sight of the plenteous bleeding of the head i might never cease from these words: _benedicite domine!_ in which shewing i understood six things:--the first is, the tokens of the blessed passion and the plenteous shedding of his precious blood. the second is, the maiden that is his dearworthy mother. the third is, the blissful godhead that ever was, is, and ever shall be: almighty, all-wisdom, all-love. the fourth is, all-thing that he hath made.--for well i wot that heaven and earth and all that is made is great and large, fair and good; but the cause why it shewed so little to my sight was for that i saw it in the presence of him that is the maker of all things: for to a soul that seeth the maker of all, all that is made seemeth full little.--the fifth is: he that made all things for love, by the same love keepeth them, and shall keep them[ ] without end. the sixth is, that god is all that is good, as to my sight, and the goodness that each thing hath, it is he.[ ] and all these our lord shewed me in the first sight, with time and space to behold it. and the bodily sight stinted,[ ] but the spiritual sight dwelled in mine understanding, and i abode with reverent dread, joying in that i saw. and i desired, as i durst, to see more, if it were his will, or else [to see for] longer time the same. in all this i was greatly stirred in charity to mine even-christians, that they might see and know the same that i saw: for i would it were comfort to them. for all this sight was shewed [with] general [regard]. then said i to them that were about me: _it is to-day doomsday with me_. and this i said for that i thought to have died. (for that day that a man dieth, he is judged[ ] as shall be without end, as to mine understanding.) this i said for that i would they might love god the better, for to make them to have in mind that this life is short, as they might see in example. for in all this time i weened to have died; and that was marvel to me, and troublous partly: for methought this vision was shewed for them that should live. and that which i say of me, i say in the person of all mine even-christians: for i am taught in the spiritual shewing of our lord god that he meaneth so. and therefore i pray you all for god's sake, and counsel you for your own profit, that ye leave the beholding of a poor creature[ ] that it was shewed to, and mightily, wisely, and meekly behold god that of his courteous love and endless goodness would shew it generally, in comfort of us all. for it is god's will that ye take it with great joy and pleasance, as if jesus had shewed it to you all. [ ] "it is kept, and shall be." [ ] "god is althing that is gode, as to my sight, and the godenes that al thing hath, it is he." [ ] _i.e._ ceased. [ ] "deemed." [ ] "a wretch." chapter ix "if i look singularly to myself, i am right nought" because of the shewing i am not good but if i love god the better: and in as much as ye love god the better, it is more to you than to me. i say[ ] not this to them that be wise, for they wot it well; but i say it to you that be simple, for ease and comfort: for we are all one in comfort. for truly it was not shewed me that god loved me better than the least soul that is in grace; for i am certain that there be many that never had shewing nor sight but of the common teaching of holy church, that love god better than i. for if i look singularly to myself, i am right nought; but in [the] general [body] i am, i hope, in oneness of charity with all mine even-christians. for in this oneness standeth the life of all mankind that shall be saved. for god is all that is good, as to my sight, and god hath made all that is made, and god loveth all that he hath made: and he that loveth generally all his even-christians for god, he loveth all that is. for in mankind that shall be saved is comprehended all: that is to say, all that is made and the maker of all. for in man is god, and god is in all. and i hope by the grace of god he that beholdeth it thus shall be truly taught and mightily comforted, if he needeth comfort. i speak of them that shall be saved, for in this time god shewed me none other. but in all things i believe as holy church believeth, preacheth, and teacheth. for the faith of holy church, the which i had aforehand understood and, as i hope, by the grace of god earnestly kept in use and custom, stood continually in my sight: [i] willing and meaning never to receive anything that might be contrary thereunto. and with this intent i beheld the shewing with all my diligence: for in all this blessed shewing i beheld it as one in god's meaning.[ ] all this was shewed by three [ways]: that is to say, by bodily sight, and by word formed in mine understanding, and by spiritual sight. but the spiritual sight i cannot nor may not shew it as openly nor as fully as i would. but i trust in our lord god almighty that he shall of his goodness, and for your love, make you to take it more spiritually and more sweetly than i can or may tell it. [ ] "sey" = _say_ or _tell_. [ ] _i.e._ the teaching of the faith and the teaching of the special shewing were both from god and were seen to be at one. _the second revelation_ chapter x "god willeth to be seen and to be sought: to be abided and to be trusted" and after this i saw with bodily sight in the face of the crucifix that hung before me, on the which i gazed continually, a part of his passion: despite, spitting and sullying, and buffetting, and many languoring pains, more than i can tell, and often changing of colour. and one time i saw half the face, beginning at the ear, over-gone with dry blood till it covered to the mid-face. and after that the other half [was] covered on the same wise, the whiles in this [first] part [it vanished] even as it came. this saw i bodily, troublously and darkly; and i desired more bodily sight, to have seen more clearly. and i was answered in my reason: _if god will shew thee more, he shall be thy light: thee needeth none but him._ for i saw him sought.[ ] for we are now so blind and unwise that we never seek god till he of his goodness shew himself to us. and when we aught see of him graciously, then are we stirred by the same grace to seek with great desire to see him more blissfully. and thus i saw him, and sought him; and i had him, i wanted him. and this is, and should be, our common working in this [life], as to my sight. one time mine understanding was led down into the sea-ground, and there i saw hills and dales green, seeming as it were moss-be-grown, with wrack and gravel. then i understood thus: that if a man or woman were under the broad water, if he might have sight of god so as god is with a man continually, he should be safe in body and soul, and take no harm: and overpassing, he should have more solace and comfort than all this world can tell. for he willeth we should believe that we see him continually though that to us it seemeth but little [of sight]; and in this belief he maketh us evermore to gain grace. for he will be seen and he will be sought: he will be abided and he will be trusted. this second shewing was so low and so little and so simple, that my spirits were in great travail in the beholding,--mourning, full of dread, and longing: for i was some time in doubt whether it was a shewing. and then diverse times our good lord gave me more sight, whereby i understood truly that it was a shewing. it was a figure and likeness of our foul deeds' shame that our fair, bright, blessed lord bare for our sins: it made me to think of the holy vernacle[ ] at rome, which he hath portrayed with his own blessed face when he was in his hard passion, with steadfast will going to his death, and often changing of colour. of the brownness and blackness, the ruefulness and wastedness of this image many marvel how it might be, since that he portrayed it with his blessed face who is the fairness of heaven, flower of earth, and the fruit of the maiden's womb. then how might this image be so darkening in colour[ ] and so far from fair?--i desire to tell like as i have understood by the grace of god:-- we know in our faith, and believe by the teaching and preaching of holy church, that the blessed trinity made mankind to[ ] his image and to his likeness. in the same manner-wise we know that when man fell so deep and so wretchedly by sin, there was none other help to restore man but through him that made man. and he that made man for love, by the same love he would restore man to the same bliss, and overpassing; and like as we were like-made to the trinity in our first making, our maker would that we should be like jesus christ, our saviour, in heaven without end, by the virtue of our again-making. then atwix these two, he would for love and worship of man make himself as like to man in this deadly life, in our foulness and our wretchedness, as man might be without guilt. this is that which is meant where it is said afore: it was the image and likeness of our foul black deeds' shame wherein our fair, bright, blessed lord god was hid. but full certainly i dare say, and we ought to trow it, that so fair a man was never none but he, till what time his fair colour was changed with travail and sorrow and passion and dying. of this it is spoken in the eighth revelation, where it treateth more of the same likeness. and where it speaketh of the vernacle of rome, it meaneth by [reason of] diverse changing of colour and countenance, sometime more comfortably and life-like, sometime more ruefully and death-like, as it may be seen in the eighth revelation. and this [dim] vision was a learning, to mine understanding, that the continual seeking of the soul pleaseth god full greatly: for it may do no more than seek, suffer and trust. and this is wrought in the soul that hath it, by the holy ghost; and the clearness of finding, _it_ is of his special grace, when it is his will. the seeking, with faith, hope, and charity, pleaseth our lord, and the finding pleaseth the soul and fulfilleth it with joy. and thus was i learned, to mine understanding, that seeking is as good as beholding, for the time that he will suffer the soul to be in travail. it is god's will that _we seek him_, to the beholding of him, for by _that_[ ] he shall shew us himself of his special grace when he will. and how a soul shall have him in its beholding, he shall teach himself: and that is most worship to him and profit to thyself, and [the soul thus] most receiveth of meekness and virtues with the grace and leading of the holy ghost. for a soul that only fasteneth it[self] on to god with very trust, either by seeking or in beholding, it is the most worship that it may do to him, as to my sight. these are two workings that may be seen in this vision: the one is seeking, the other is beholding. the seeking is common,--that every soul may have with his grace,--and ought to have that discretion and teaching of the holy church. it is god's will that we have three things in our seeking:--the first is that we seek earnestly and diligently, without sloth, and, as it may be through his grace, without unreasonable[ ] heaviness and vain sorrow. the second is, that we abide him steadfastly for his love, without murmuring and striving against him, to our life's end: for it shall last but awhile. the third is that we trust in him mightily of full assured faith. for it is his will that we know that he shall appear suddenly and blissfully to all that love him. for his working is privy, and he willeth to be perceived; and his appearing shall be swiftly sudden; and he willeth to be trusted. for he is full gracious[ ] and homely: blessed may he be! [ ] in de cressy's version: "i saw him and sought him." [ ] the handkerchief of s. veronica. [ ] "so discolouring." [ ] _i.e. according to_. [ ] "for be that" = _for by [means of] that_; or possibly the old english and scottish 'forbye that' = _besides that_. [ ] "onskilful" = without discernment or ability; unpractical. s. de cressy, "unreasonable." [ ] "hend" = at hand; (handy, dexterous;) courteous, gentle, urbane. _the third revelation_ chapter xi "all thing that is done, it is well done: for our lord god doeth all." "sin is no deed" and after this i saw god in a point,[ ] that is to say, in mine understanding,--by which sight i saw that he is in all things. i beheld and considered, seeing and knowing in sight, with a soft dread, and thought: _what is sin?_ for i saw truly that god doeth all-thing, be it never so little. and i saw truly that nothing is done by hap nor by adventure, but all things by the foreseeing wisdom of god: if it be hap or adventure in the sight of man, our blindness and our unforesight is the cause. for the things that are in the foreseeing wisdom of god from without beginning, (which rightfully and worshipfully and continually he leadeth to the best end,) as they come about fall to us suddenly, ourselves unwitting; and thus by our blindness and our unforesight we say: these be haps and adventures. but to our lord god they be not so. wherefore me behoveth needs to grant that all-thing that is done, it is well-done: for our lord god doeth all. for in this time the working of creatures was not shewed, but [the working] of our lord god in the creature: for he is in the mid-point of all thing, and all he doeth. and i was certain he doeth no sin. and here i saw verily that sin is no deed: for in all this was not sin shewed. and i would no longer marvel in this, but beheld our lord, what he would shew. and thus, as much as it might be for the time, the rightfulness of god's working was shewed to the soul. rightfulness hath two fair properties: it is right and it is full. and so are all the works of our lord god: thereto needeth neither the working of mercy nor grace: for they be all rightful: wherein faileth nought. but in another time he gave a shewing for the beholding of sin nakedly, as i shall tell: where he useth working of mercy and grace. and this vision was shewed, to mine understanding, for that our lord would have the soul turned truly unto the beholding of him, and generally of all his works. for they are full good; and all his doings are easy and sweet, and to great ease bringing the soul that is turned from the beholding of the blind deeming of man unto the fair sweet deeming of our lord god. for a man beholdeth some deeds well done and some deeds evil, but our lord beholdeth them not so: for as all that hath being in nature is of godly making, so is all that is done, in property of god's doing. for it is easy to understand that the best deed is well done: and so well as the best deed is done--the highest--so well is the least deed done; and all thing in its property and in the order that our lord hath ordained it to from without beginning. for there is no doer but he. i saw full surely that he changeth never his purpose in no manner of thing, nor never shall, without end. for there was no thing unknown to him in his rightful ordinance from without beginning. and therefore all-thing was set in order ere anything was made, as it should stand without end; and no manner of thing shall fail of that point. for he made all things in fulness of goodness, and therefore the blessed trinity is ever full pleased in all his works.[ ] and all this shewed he full blissfully, signifying thus: _see! i am god: see! i am in all thing: see! i do all thing: see! i lift never mine hands off my works, nor ever shall, without end: see! i lead all thing to the end i ordained it to from without beginning, by the same might, wisdom and love whereby i made it. how should any thing be amiss?_ thus mightily, wisely, and lovingly was the soul examined in this vision. then saw i soothly that me behoved, of need, to assent, with great reverence enjoying in god. [ ] see below: "he is in the mid-point," and lxiii. p. , "the blessed point from which nature came: that is, god." see also xxi. p. , "where is now any point of thy pain?" (least part) and xxi. p. , "abiding unto the last point"; and lxiv. p. , "set the point of our thought." these uses of the word may be compared with the following:--from the _banquet of dante alighieri_, tr. by k. hillard (kegan paul, trench & co.), bk. ii. xiv. , "_geometry moves between the print and the circle_"; as euclid says, "the point is the beginning of geometry, and according to him, the circle is the most perfect figure, and therefore may be considered its end.... the point by reason of its indivisibility is immeasurable, and the circle by reason of its arc cannot be exactly squared, and therefore cannot be measured with precision." notes by miss hillard: "this is why the deity is represented by a _point. paradiso_, xxviii. : 'a point beheld i,' 'heaven and all nature, hangs upon that point,' etc. bk. iv. , quoting aristotle's _physics_: '_the circle can be called perfect when it is a true circle._ and this is when it contains a point which is equally distant from every part of its circumference.' in the _vita nuova_ love appearing, says--'i am as the centre of a circle, to which all parts of the circumference bear an equal relation' ('_amor che muove il sole e l'altre stelle_')." from _neoplatonism_, by c. bigg, d.d. (s.p.c.k.), p. : "thus we get a triplet--soul, intelligence, and a higher intelligence. the last is spoken of as one, as a point, as neither good nor evil because above both." [ ] on this subject, with the "two deemings" and "the godly will," see xlv., xxxv., xxxvii., lxxxii. _the fourth revelation_ chapter xii "the dearworthy blood of our lord jesus christ as verily as it is most precious, so verily it it most plenteous" and after this i saw, beholding, the body plenteously bleeding in seeming of[ ] the scourging, as thus:--the fair skin was broken full deep into the tender flesh with sharp smiting all about the sweet body. so plenteously the hot blood ran out that there was neither seen skin nor wound, but as it were all blood. and when it came where it should have fallen down, then it vanished. notwithstanding, the bleeding continued awhile: till it might be seen and considered.[ ] and this was so plenteous, to my sight, that methought if it had been so in kind[ ] and in substance at that time, it should have made the bed all one blood, and have passed over about. and then came to my mind that god hath made waters plenteous in earth to our service and to our bodily ease for tender love that he hath to us, but yet liketh him better that we take full homely his blessed blood to wash us of sin: for there is no water[ ] that is made that he liketh so well to give us. for it is most plenteous as it is most precious: and that by the virtue of his blessed godhead; and it is [of] our kind, and all-blissfully belongeth to us by the virtue of his precious love. the dearworthy blood of our lord jesus christ as verily as it is most precious, so verily it is most plenteous. behold and see! the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood descended down into hell and burst her bands and delivered all that were there which belonged to the court of heaven. the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood overfloweth all earth, and is ready to wash all creatures of sin, which be of goodwill, have been, and shall be. the precious plenty of his dearworthy blood ascended up into heaven to the blessed body of our lord jesus christ, and there is in him, bleeding and praying for us to the father,--and is, and shall be as long as it needeth;--and ever shall be as long as it needeth. and evermore it floweth in all heavens enjoying the salvation of all mankind, that are there, and shall be--fulfilling the number[ ] that faileth. [ ] _i.e._ as it were from. [ ] "sene with avisement," so, p. .--"i beheld with avisement." [ ] _i.e._ nature, reality. [ ] ms. "licor." [ ] the appointed number of heavenly citizens. _the fifth revelation_ chapter xiii "the enemy is overcome by the blessed passion and death of our lord jesus christ" and after this, ere god shewed any words, he suffered me for a convenient time to give heed unto him and all that i had seen, and all intellect[ ] that was therein, as the simplicity of the soul might take it.[ ] then he, without voice and opening of lips, formed in my soul these words: _herewith is the fiend overcome_. these words said our lord, meaning his blessed passion as he shewed it afore. on this shewed our lord that the passion of him is the overcoming of the fiend. god shewed that the fiend hath now the same malice that he had afore the incarnation. and as sore he travaileth, and as continually he seeth that all souls of salvation escape him, worshipfully, by the virtue of christ's precious passion. and that is his sorrow, and full evil is he ashamed: for all that god suffereth him to do turneth [for] us to joy and [for] him to shame and woe. and he hath as much sorrow when god giveth him leave to work, as when he worketh not: and that is for that he may never do as ill as he would: for his might is all taken[ ] into god's hand. but in god there may be no wrath, as to my sight: for our good lord endlessly hath regard to his own worship and to the profit of all that shall be saved. with might and right he withstandeth the reproved, the which of malice and wickedness busy them to contrive and to do against god's will. also i saw our lord scorn his malice and set at nought his unmight; and he willeth that we do so. for this sight i laughed mightily, and that made them to laugh that were about me, and their laughing was a pleasure to me. i thought that i would that all mine even-christians had seen as i saw, and then would they all laugh with me. but i saw not christ laugh. for i understood that we may laugh in comforting of ourselves and joying in god for that the devil is overcome. and when i saw him scorn his malice, it was by leading of mine understanding into our lord: that is to say, it was an inward shewing of verity, without changing of look.[ ] for, as to my sight, it is a worshipful property of god's that [he] is ever the same. and after this i fell into a graveness,[ ] and said: _i see three things: i see game, scorn, and earnest. i see [a] game, in that the fiend is overcome; i see scorn, in that god scorneth him, and he shall be scorned; and i see earnest, in that he is overcome by the blissful passion and death of our lord jesus christ that was done in full earnest and with sober travail._ when i said, _he is scorned_,--i meant that god scorneth him, that is to say, because he seeth him now as he shall do without end. for in this [word] god shewed that the fiend is condemned. and this meant i when i said: _he shall be scorned_: [he shall be scorned] at doomsday, generally of all that shall be saved, to whose consolation he hath great ill-will.[ ] for then he shall see that all the woe and tribulation that he hath done to them shall be turned to increase of their joy, without end; and all the pain and tribulation that he would have brought them to shall endlessly go with him to hell. [ ] _i.e._ significance, teaching. [ ] _i.e._ in so far as the simplicity of my soul was able to understand it.--see xxiv. [ ] s. de cressy has "locked" instead of "taken." [ ] "chere" = expression of countenance. [ ] "sadhede." [ ] "invye." _the sixth revelation_ chapter xiv "the age of every man shall be acknowledged before him in heaven, and every man shall be rewarded for his willing service and for his time" after this our good lord said: _i thank thee for thy travail, and especially for thy youth._ and in this [shewing] mine understanding was lifted up into heaven where i saw our lord as a lord in his own house, which hath called all his dear worthy servants and friends to a stately[ ] feast. then i saw the lord take no place in his own house, but i saw him royally reign in his house, fulfilling it with joy and mirth, himself endlessly to gladden and to solace his dearworthy friends, full homely and full courteously, with marvellous melody of endless love, in his own fair blessed countenance. which glorious countenance of the godhead fulfilleth the heavens with joy and bliss.[ ] god shewed three degrees of bliss that every soul shall have in heaven that willingly hath served god in any degree in earth. the first is the worshipful thanks of our lord god that he shall receive when he is delivered of pain. this thanking is so high and so worshipful that the soul thinketh it filleth him though there were no more. for methought that all the pain and travail that might be suffered by all living men might not deserve the worshipful thanks that one man shall have that willingly hath served god. the second is that all the blessed creatures that are in heaven shall see that worshipful thanking, and he maketh his service known to all that are in heaven. and here this example was shewed:--a king, if he thank his servants, it is a great worship to them, and if he maketh it known to all the realm, then is the worship greatly increased.--the third is, that as new and as gladdening as it is received in that time, right so shall it last without end. and i saw that homely and sweetly was this shewed, and that the age of every man shall be [made] known in heaven, and [he] shall be rewarded for his willing service and for his time. and specially the age of them that willingly and freely offer their youth unto god, passingly is rewarded and wonderfully is thanked. for i saw that whene'er what time a man or woman is truly turned to god,--for one day's service and for his endless will he shall have all these three decrees of bliss. and the more the loving soul seeth this courtesy of god, the liefer he[ ] is to serve him all the days of his life. [ ] ms. "solemne"--ceremonial. [ ] see lxxii. and lxxv. [ ] thoughout this ms. _the soul_ is referred to generally with the masculine pronoun; the feminine pronoun is never used, in any of its cases; the neuter sometimes occurs. _the seventh revelation_ chapter xv "it is not god's will that we follow the feeling of pains in sorrow and mourning for them" and after this he shewed a sovereign ghostly pleasante in my soul. i was fulfilled with the everlasting sureness, mightily sustained without any painful dread. this feeling was so glad and so ghostly that i was in all peace and in rest, that there was nothing in earth that should have grieved me. this lasted but a while, and i was turned and left to myself in heaviness, and weariness of my life, and irksomeness of myself, that scarcely i could have patience to live. there was no comfort nor none ease to me but faith, hope, and charity; and these i had in truth, but little in feeling. and anon after this our blessed lord gave me again the comfort and the rest in soul, in satisfying and sureness so blissful and so mighty that no dread, no sorrow, no pain bodily that might be suffered should have distressed me. and then the pain shewed again to my feeling, and then the joy and the pleasing, and now that one, and now that other, divers times--i suppose about twenty times. and in the time of joy i might have said with saint paul: _nothing shall dispart me from the charity of christ_; and in the pain i might have said with peter: _lord, save me: i perish!_ this vision was shewed me, according to mine understanding, [for] that it is speedful to some souls to feel on this wise: sometime to be in comfort, and sometime to fail and to be left to themselves. god willeth that we know that he keepeth us even alike secure in woe and in weal. and for profit of man's soul, a man is sometime left to himself; although sin is not always the cause: for in this time i sinned not wherefore i should be left to myself--for it was so sudden. also i deserved not to have this blessed feeling. but freely our lord giveth when he will; and suffereth us [to be] in woe sometime. and both is one love. for it is god's will that we hold us in comfort with all our might: for bliss is lasting without end, and pain is passing and shall be brought to nought for them that shall be saved. and therefore it is not god's will that we follow the feelings of pain in sorrow and mourning for them, but that we suddenly pass over, and hold us in endless enjoyment. _the eighth revelation_ chapter xvi "a part of his passion" after this christ shewed a part of his passion near his dying. i saw his sweet face as it were dry and bloodless with pale dying. and later, more pale, dead, languoring; and then turned more dead unto blue; and then more brown-blue, as the flesh turned more deeply dead. for his passion shewed to me most specially in his blessed face (and chiefly in his lips): there i saw these four colours, though it were afore fresh, ruddy, and pleasing, to my sight. this was a pitiful change to see, this deep dying. and also the [inward] moisture clotted and dried, to my sight, and the sweet body was brown and black, all turned out of fair, life-like colour of itself, unto dry dying. for that same time that our lord and blessed saviour died upon the rood, it was a dry, hard wind, and wondrous cold, as to my sight, and what time [all] the precious blood was bled out of the sweet body that might pass therefrom, yet there dwelled a moisture in the sweet flesh of christ, as it was shewed. bloodlessness and pain dried within; and blowing of wind and cold coming from without met together in the sweet body of christ. and these four,--twain without, and twain within--dried the flesh of christ by process of time. and though this pain was bitter and sharp, it was full long lasting, as to my sight, and painfully dried up all the lively spirits of christ's flesh. thus i saw the sweet flesh dry in seeming by part after part, with marvellous pains. and as long as any spirit had life in christ's flesh, so long suffered he pain. this long pining seemed to me as if he had been seven nights dead, dying, at the point of outpassing away, suffering the last pain. and when i said it seemed to me as if he had been seven night dead, it meaneth that the sweet body was so discoloured, so dry, so shrunken, so deathly, and so piteous, as if he had been seven night dead, continually dying. and methought the drying of christ's flesh was the most pain, and the last, of his passion. chapter xvii "how might any pain be more to me than to see him that is all my life, and all my bliss, and all my joy suffer?" and in this dying was brought to my mind the words of christ: _i thirst_. for i saw in christ a double thirst: one bodily; another spiritual, the which i shall speak of in the thirty-first chapter. for this word was shewed for the bodily thirst: the which i understood was caused by failing of moisture. for the blessed flesh and bones was left all alone without blood and moisture. the blessed body dried alone long time with wringing of the nails and weight of the body. for i understood that for tenderness of the sweet hands and of the sweet feet, by the greatness, hardness, and grievousness of the nails the wounds waxed wide and the body sagged, for weight by long time hanging. and [therewith was] piercing and pressing of the head, and binding of the crown all baked with dry blood, with the sweet hair clinging, and the dry flesh, to the thorns, and the thorns to the flesh drying; and in the beginning while the flesh was fresh and bleeding, the continual sitting of the thorns made the wounds wide. and furthermore i saw that the sweet skin and the tender flesh, with the hair and the blood, was all raised and loosed about from the bone, with the thorns where-through it were rent in many pieces, as a cloth that were sagging, as if it would hastily have fallen off, for heaviness and looseness, while it had natural moisture. and that was great sorrow and dread to me: for methought i would not for my life have seen it fall. how it was done i saw not; but understood it was with the sharp thorns and the violent and grievous setting on of the garland of thorns, unsparingly and without pity. this continued awhile, and soon it began to change, and i beheld and marvelled how it might be. and then i saw it was because it began to dry, and stint a part of the weight, and set about the garland. and thus it encircled all about, as it were garland upon garland. the garland of the thorns was dyed with the blood, and that other garland [of blood] and the head, all was one colour, as clotted blood when it is dry. the skin of the flesh that shewed (of the face and of the body), was small-rimpled[ ] with a tanned colour, like a dry board when it is aged; and the face more brown than the body. i saw four manner of dryings: the first was bloodlessness; the second was pain following after; the third, hanging up in the air, as men hang a cloth to dry; the fourth, that the bodily kind asked liquid and there was no manner of comfort ministered to him in all his woe and distress. ah! hard and grievous was his pain, but much more hard and grievous it was when the moisture failed and began to dry thus, shrivelling. these were the pains that shewed in the blessed head: the first wrought to the dying, while it had moisture; and that other, slow, with shrinking drying, [and] with blowing of the wind from without, that dried and pained him with cold more than mine heart can think. and other pains--for which pains i saw that all is too little that i can say: for it may not be told. the which shewing of christ's pains filled me full of pain. for i wist well he suffered but once, but [this was as if] he would shew it me and fill me with mind as i had afore desired. and in all this time of christ's pains i felt no pain but for christ's pains. then thought-me: _i knew but little what pain it was that i asked_; and, as a wretch, repented me, thinking: _if i had wist what it had been, loth me had been to have prayed it_. for methought it passed bodily death, my pains. i thought: _is any pain like this?_ and i was answered in my reason: _hell is another pain: for there is despair. but of all pains that lead to salvation this is the most pain, to see thy love suffer. how might any pain be more to me than to see him that is all my life, all my bliss, and all my joy, suffer?_ here felt i soothfastly[ ] that i loved christ so much above myself that there was no pain that might be suffered like to that sorrow that i had to [see] him in pain. [ ] or _shrivelled_. [ ] in sure verity. chapter xviii "when he was in pain, we were in pain" here i saw a part of the compassion of our lady, saint mary: for christ and she were so oned in love that the greatness of her loving was cause of the greatness of her pain. for in this [shewing] i saw a substance of nature's[ ] love, continued by grace, that creatures have to him: which kind love was most fully shewed in his sweet mother, and overpassing; for so much as she loved him more than all other, her pains passed all other. for ever the higher, the mightier, the sweeter that the love be, the more sorrow it is to the lover to see that body in pain that is loved. and all his disciples and all his true lovers suffered pains more than their own bodily dying. for i am sure by mine own feeling that the least of them loved him so far above himself that it passeth all that i can say. here saw i a great oneing betwixt christ and us, to mine understanding: for when he was in pain, we were in pain. and all creatures that ought suffer pain, suffered with him: that is to say, all creatures that god hath made to our service. the firmament, the earth, failed for sorrow in their nature in the time of christ's dying. for it belongeth naturally to their property to know him for their god, in whom all their virtue standeth: when he failed, then behoved it needs to them, because of kindness [between them], to fail with him, as much as they might, for sorrow of his pains. and thus they that were his friends suffered pain for love. and, generally, _all_: that is to say, they that knew him not suffered for failing of all manner of comfort save the mighty, privy keeping of god. i speak of two manner of folk, as they may be understood by two persons: the one was pilate, the other was saint dionyse[ ] of france, which was [at] that time a paynim. for when he saw wondrous and marvellous sorrows and dreads that befell in that time, he said: _either the world is now at an end, or he that is maker of kind suffereth._ wherefore he did write on an altar: this is the altar of unknown god. god that of his goodness maketh the planets and the elements to work of kind to the blessed man and the cursed, in that time made withdrawing[ ] of it from both; wherefore it was that they that knew him not were in sorrow that time. thus was our lord jesus made-naught for us; and all we stand in this manner made-naught with him, and shall do till we come to his bliss; as i shall tell after. [ ] _i.e._ natural. [ ] dionysius, "the areopagite," according to the legend of s. denis. [ ] ms.--"it was withdrawen from bothe." chapter xix "thus was i learned to choose jesus for my heaven, whom i saw only in pain at that time" in this [time] i would have looked up from the cross, but i durst not. for i wist well that while i beheld in the cross i was surely-safe; therefore i would not assent to put my soul in peril: for away from the cross was no sureness, for frighting of fiends. then had i a proffer in my reason,[ ] as if it had been friendly said to me: _look up to heaven to his father_. and then saw i well, with the faith that i felt, that there was nothing betwixt the cross and heaven that might have harmed me. either me behoved to look up or else to answer. i answered inwardly with all the might of my soul, and said: _nay; i may not: for thou art my heaven._ this i said for that i would not. for i would liever have been in that pain till doomsday than to come to heaven otherwise than by him. for i wist well that he that bound me so sore, he should unbind me when that he would. thus was i learned to choose jesus to my heaven, whom i saw only in pain at that time: meliked no other heaven than jesus, which shall be my bliss when i come there. and this hath ever been a comfort to me, that i chose jesus to my heaven, by his grace, in all this time of passion and sorrow; and that hath been a learning to me that i should evermore do so: choose only jesus to my heaven in weal and woe. and though i as a wretched creature had repented me (i said afore if i had wist what pain it would be, i had been loth to have prayed), here saw i truly that it was reluctance and frailty of the flesh without assent of the soul: to which god assigneth no blame. repenting and willing choice be two contraries which i felt both in one at that time. and these be [of our] two parts: the one outward, the other inward. the outward part is our deadly flesh-hood, which is now in pain and woe, and shall be, in this life: whereof i felt much in this time; and that part it was that repented. the inward part is an high, blissful life, which is all in peace and in love: and this was more inwardly felt; and this part is [that] in which mightily, wisely and with steadfast will i chose jesus to my heaven. and in this i saw verily that the inward part is master and sovereign to the outward, and doth not charge itself with, nor take heed to, the will of that: but all the intent and will is set to be oned unto our lord jesus. that the outward part should draw the inward to assent was not shewed to me; but that the inward draweth the outward by grace, and both shall be oned in bliss without end, by the virtue of christ,--_this_ was shewed. [ ] see xxxv. and lv. chapter xx "for every man's sin that shall be saved he suffered, and every man's sorrow and desolation he saw, and sorrowed for kinship and love" and thus i saw our lord jesus languoring long time. for the oneing with the godhead gave strength to the manhood for love to suffer more than all men might suffer: i mean not only more pain than all men might suffer, but also that he suffered more pain than all men of salvation that ever were from the first beginning unto the last day might tell or fully think, having regard to the worthiness of the highest worshipful king and the shameful, despised, painful death. for he that is highest and worthiest was most fully made-nought and most utterly despised. for the highest point that may be seen in the passion is to think and know what he is that suffered. and in this [shewing] he brought in part to mind the height and nobleness of the glorious godhead, and therewith the preciousness and the tenderness of the blessed body, which be together united; and also the lothness that is in our kind to suffer pain. for as much as he was most tender and pure, right so he was most strong and mighty to suffer. and for every man's sin that shall be saved he suffered: and every man's sorrow and desolation he saw, and sorrowed for blindness and love. (for in as much as our lady sorrowed for his pains, in so much he suffered sorrow for her sorrow;--and more, in as greatly as the sweet manhood of him was worthier in kind.) for as long as he was passible he suffered for us and sorrowed _for_ us; and now he is uprisen and no more passible, yet he suffereth _with_ us. and i, beholding all this by his grace, saw that the love of him was so strong which he hath to our soul that willingly he chose it with great desire, and mildly he suffered it with well-pleasing. for the soul that beholdeth it thus, when it is touched by grace, it shall verily see that the pains of christ's passion pass all pains: [all pains] that is to say, which shall be turned into everlasting, o'erpassing joys by the virtue of christ's passion. chapter xxi "we be now with him in his pains and his passion, dying. we shall be with him in heaven. through learning in this little pain that we suffer here, we shall have an high endless knowledge of god which we could never have without that" it is god's will, as to mine understanding, that we have three[ ] manners of beholding his blessed passion. the first is: _the hard pain that he suffered_,--[beholding it] with contrition and compassion. and that shewed our lord in this time, and gave me strength and grace to see it. and i looked for the departing with all my might, and thought to have seen the body all dead; but i saw him not so. and right in the same time that methought, by the seeming, the life might no longer last and the shewing of the end behoved needs to be,--suddenly (i beholding in the same cross), he changed [the look of] his blessed countenance.[ ] the changing of his blessed countenance changed mine, and i was as glad and merry as it was possible. then brought our lord merrily to my mind: _where is now any point of the pain, or of thy grief?_ and i was full merry. i understood that we be now, in our lord's meaning, in his cross with him in his pains and his passion, dying; and we, willingly abiding in the same cross with his help and his grace unto the last point, suddenly he shall change his cheer to us, and we shall be with him in heaven. betwixt that one and that other shall be no time, and then shall all be brought to joy. and thus said he in this shewing: _where is now any point of thy pain, or thy grief?_ and we shall be full blessed. and here saw i verily that if he shewed now [to] us his _blissful_ cheer, there is no pain in earth or in other place that should aggrieve us; but all things should be to us joy and bliss. but because he sheweth to us time of his passion, as he bare it in _this_ life, and his cross, therefore we are in distress and travail, with him, as our frailty asketh. and the cause why he suffereth [it to be so,] is for [that] he will of his goodness make us the higher with him in his bliss; and for this little pain that we suffer here, we shall have an high endless knowing in god which we could[ ] never have without that. and the harder our pains have been with him in his cross, the more shall our worship[ ] be with him in his kingdom. [ ] xxii. and xxiii. [ ] his "blisful chere," or blessed cheer; lxxii. and note. [ ] "might." [ ] _i.e._ glory. _the ninth revelation_ chapter xxii "the love that made him to suffer passeth so far all his pains as heaven is above earth" then said our good lord jesus christ: _art thou well pleased that i suffered for thee?_ i said: _yea, good lord, i thank thee; yea, good lord, blessed mayst thou be._ then said jesus, our kind lord: _if thou art pleased, i am pleased: it is a joy, a bliss, an endless satisfying to me that ever suffered i passion for thee; and if i might suffer more, i would suffer more._ in this feeling my understanding was lifted up into heaven, and there i saw three heavens: of which sight i marvelled greatly. and though i see three heavens--and all in the blessed manhood of christ--none is more, none is less, none is higher, none is lower, but [they are] even-like in bliss. for the first heaven, christ shewed me his father; in no bodily likeness, but in his property and in his working. that is to say, i saw in christ that the father is. the working of the father is this, that he giveth meed to his son jesus christ. this gift and this meed is so blissful to jesus that his father might have given him no meed that might have pleased him better. the first heaven, that is the pleasing of the father, shewed to me as one heaven; and it was full blissful: for he is full pleased with all the deeds that jesus hath done about our salvation. wherefore we be not only his by his buying, but also by the courteous gift of his father we be his bliss, we be his meed, we be his worship, we be his crown. (and this was a singular marvel and a full delectable beholding, that we be his crown!) this that i say is so great bliss to jesus that he setteth at nought all his travail, and his hard passion, and his cruel and shameful death. and in these words: _if that i might suffer more, i would suffer more_,--i saw in truth that as often as he _might_ die, so often he _would_, and love should never let him have rest till he had done it. and i beheld with great diligence for to learn how often he would die if he might. and verily the number passed mine understanding and my wits so far that my reason might not, nor could, comprehend it. and when he had thus oft died, or should, yet he would set it at nought, for love: for all seemeth[ ] him but little in regard of his love. for though the sweet manhood of christ might suffer but once, the goodness in him may never cease of proffer: every day he is ready to the same, if it might be. for if he said he would for my love make new heavens and new earth, it were but little in comparison;[ ] for this might be done every day if he would, without any travail. but to die for my love so often that the number passeth creature's reason, it is the highest proffer that our lord god might make to man's soul, as to my sight. then meaneth he thus: _how should it not be that i should not do for thy love all that i might of deeds which grieve me not, sith i would, for thy love, die so often, having no regard[ ] to my hard pains?_ and here saw i, for the second[ ] beholding in this blessed passion _the love that made him to suffer passeth as far all his pains as heaven is above earth._ for the pains was a noble, worshipful deed done in a time by the working of love: but[ ] love was without beginning, is, and shall be without ending. for which love he said full sweetly these words: _if i might suffer more, i would suffer more._ he said not, _if it were needful to suffer more:_ for though it were not needful, if he _might_ suffer more, he would. this deed, and this work about our salvation, was ordained as well as god might ordain it. and here i saw a full bliss in christ: for his bliss should not have been full, if it might any better have been done. [ ] "ffor al thynketh him but litil in reward of his love" [in comparison with]. [ ] ms. "reward." [ ] ms. "reward." [ ] see xxi., xxiii. [ ] ms. "and," probably here, at in other places, with something of the force of "but." chapter xxiii "the glad giver" "all the trinity wrought in the passion of jesus christ" and in these three words: _it is a joy, a bliss, an endless satisfying to me_, were shewed three heavens, as thus: for the joy, i understood the pleasure of the father; and for the bliss, the worship of the son; and for the endless satisfying,[ ] the holy ghost. the father is pleased, the son is worshipped, the holy ghost is satisfied.[ ] and here saw i, for the third beholding in his blissful passion: that is to say, _the joy and the bliss that make him to be well-satisfied in it._ for our courteous lord shewed his passion to me in five manners: of which the first is the bleeding of the head; the second is, discolouring of his face; the third is, the plenteous bleeding of the body, in seeming [as] from the scourging; the fourth is, the deep dying:--these four are aforetold for the pains of the passion. and the fifth is [this] that was shewed for the joy and the bliss of the passion. for it is god's will that we have true enjoying with him in our salvation, and therein he willeth [that] we be mightily comforted and strengthened; and thus willeth he that merrily with his grace our soul be occupied. for we are his bliss: for in us he enjoyeth without end; and so shall we in him, with his grace. and all that he hath done for us, and doeth, and ever shall, was never cost nor charge to him, nor might be, but only that [which] he did in our manhood, beginning at the sweet incarnation and lasting to the blessed uprise on easter-morrow:[ ] so long dured the cost and the charge about our redemption in _deed_: of [the] which deed he enjoyeth endlessly, as it is aforesaid. jesus willeth that we take heed to the bliss that is in the blessed trinity [because] of our salvation and that _we_ desire to have as much spiritual enjoying, with his grace, (as it is aforesaid): that is to say, that the enjoying of our salvation be [as] like to the joy that christ hath of our salvation as it may be while we are here. all the trinity wrought in the passion of christ, ministering abundance of virtues and plenty of grace to us by him: but only the maiden's son suffered: whereof all the blessed trinity endlessly enjoyeth. all this was shewed in these words: _art thou well pleased?_--and by that other word that christ said: _if thou art pleased, then am i pleased;_--as if he said: _it is joy and satisfying enough to me, and i ask nought else of thee for my travail but that i might well please thee_. and in this he brought to mind the property of a glad giver. a glad giver taketh but little heed of the thing that he giveth, but all his desire and all his intent is to please him and solace him to whom he giveth it. and if the receiver take the gift highly and thankfully, then the courteous giver setteth at nought all his cost and all his travail, for joy and delight that he hath pleased and solaced him that he loveth. plenteously and fully was this shewed. think also wisely of the greatness of this word "_ever_." for in it was shewed an high knowing of love[ ] that _he_ hath in our salvation, with manifold joys that follow of the passion of christ. one is that he rejoiceth that he hath done it in deed, and he shall no more suffer; another, that he bought us from endless pains of hell. [ ] "lykyng." [ ] "lykith." [ ] "esterne morrow" = easter morning. [ ] experience of loving (?). _the tenth revelation_ chapter xxiv "our lord looked unto his [wounded] side, and beheld, rejoicing.... _lo! how i loved thee_" then with a glad cheer our lord looked unto his side and beheld, rejoicing. with his sweet looking he led forth the understanding of his creature by the same wound into his side within. and then he shewed a fair, delectable place, and large enough for all mankind that shall be saved to rest in peace and in love.[ ] and therewith he brought to mind his dearworthy blood and precious water which he let pour all out for love. and with the sweet beholding he shewed his blessed heart even cloven in two. and with this sweet enjoying, he shewed unto mine understanding, in part, _the blessed godhead_, stirring then the poor soul[ ] to understand, as it may be said, that is, to think on,[ ] the _endless_ love that was without beginning, and is, and shall be ever. and with this our good lord said full blissfully: _lo, how that i loved thee,_ as if he had said: _my darling, behold and see thy lord, thy god that is thy maker and thine endless joy, see what satisfying and bliss i have in thy salvation; and for my love rejoice [thou] with me._ and also, for more understanding, this blessed word was said: _lo, how i loved thee! behold and see that i loved thee so much ere i died for thee that i would die for thee; and now i have died for thee and suffered willingly that which i may. and now is all my bitter pain and all my hard travail turned to endless joy and bliss to me and to thee. how should it now be that thou shouldst anything pray that pleaseth me but that i should full gladly grant it thee? for my pleasing is thy holiness and thine endless joy and bliss with me._ this is the understanding, simply as i can say it, of this blessed word: _lo, how i loved thee._ this shewed our good lord for to make us glad and merry. [ ] see note on the passage in li., "long and broad, all full of endless heavens"; "he hath, beclosed in him, all heavens and all joy and bliss." [ ] see xiii., "the simplicity of the soul." [ ] ms. "that is to mene the endles love." _the eleventh revelation_ chapter xxv "i wot well that thou wouldst see my blessed mother...." "wilt thou see in her how thou art loved?" and with this same cheer of mirth and joy our good lord looked down on the right side and brought to my mind where our lady stood in the time of his passion; and said: _wilt thou see her?_ and in this sweet word [it was] as if he had said: _i wot well that thou wouldst see my blessed mother: for, after myself, she is the highest joy that i might shew thee, and most pleasance and worship to me; and most she is desired to be seen of my blessed creatures._ and for the high, marvellous, singular love that he hath to this sweet maiden, his blessed mother, our lady saint mary, he shewed her highly rejoicing, as by the meaning of these sweet words; as if he said: _wilt thou see how i love her, that thou mightest joy with me in the love that i have in her and she in me?_ and also (unto more understanding this sweet word) our lord speaketh to all mankind that shall be saved, as it were all to one person, as if he said: _wilt thou see in her how thou art loved? for thy love i made her so high, so noble and so worthy; and this pleaseth me, and so will i that it doeth thee._ for after himself she is the most blissful sight. but hereof am i not learned to long to see her bodily presence while i am here, but the virtues of her blessed soul: her truth, her wisdom, her charity; whereby i may learn to know myself and reverently dread my god. and when our good lord had shewed this and said this word: _wilt thou see her?_ i answered and said: _yea, good lord, i thank thee; yea, good lord, if it be thy will._ oftentimes i prayed this, and i weened to have seen her in bodily presence, but i saw her not so. and jesus in that word shewed me ghostly sight of her: right as i had seen her afore little and simple, so he shewed her then high and noble and glorious, and pleasing to him above all creatures. and he willeth that it be known; that [so] all those that please them in him should please them in her, and in the pleasance that he hath in her and she in him.[ ] and, to more understanding, he shewed this example: _as if a man love a creature singularly, above all creatures,_ he willeth to make all creatures to love and to have pleasance in that creature that he loveth so greatly. and in this word that jesus said: _wilt thou see her?_ methought it was the most pleasing word that he might have given me of her, with that ghostly shewing that he gave me of her. for our lord shewed me nothing in special but our lady saint mary; and her he shewed three times.[ ] the first was as she was with child; the second was as she was in her sorrows under the cross; the third is as she is now in pleasing, worship, and joy. [ ] "and he wil that it be knowen that al those that lyke in him should lyken in hir and in the lykyng that he hath in hir and she in him." [ ] see ( ) iv. (referred to in vii.); ( ) xviii. _the twelfth revelation_ chapter xxvi "it is i, it is i" and after this our lord shewed himself more glorified, as to my sight, than i saw him before [in the shewing] wherein i was learned that our soul shall never have rest till it cometh to him, knowing that he is fulness of joy, homely and courteous, blissful and very life. our lord jesus oftentimes said: _i it am, i it am: i it am that is highest, i it am that thou lovest, i it am that thou enjoyest, i it am that thou servest, i it am that thou longest for, i it am that thou desirest, i it am that thou meanest, i it am that is all. i it am that holy church preacheth and teacheth thee, i it am that shewed me here to thee._ the number of the words passeth my wit and all my understanding and all my powers. and they are the highest, as to my sight: for therein is comprehended--i cannot tell,--but the joy that i saw in the shewing of them passeth all that heart may wish for and soul may desire. therefore the words be not declared here; but every man after the grace that god giveth him in understanding and loving, receive them in our lord's meaning. _the thirteenth revelation_ chapter xxvii "often i wondered why by the great foreseeing wisdom of god the beginning of sin was not hindered: for then, methought, all should have been well." "sin is behovable--[playeth a needful part]--; but all shall be well" after this the lord brought to my mind the longing that i had to him afore. and i saw that nothing letted me but sin. and so i looked, generally, upon us all, and methought: _if sin had not been, we should all have been clean and like to our lord, as he made us._ and thus, in my folly, afore this time often i wondered why by the great foreseeing wisdom of god the beginning of sin was not letted: for then, methought, all should have been well. this stirring [of mind] was much to be forsaken, but nevertheless mourning and sorrow i made therefor, without reason and discretion. but jesus, who in this vision informed me of all that is needful to me, answered by this word and said: _it behoved that there should be sin;[ ] but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well._ in this naked word _sin_, our lord brought to my mind, generally, _all that is not good_, and the shameful despite and the utter noughting[ ] that he bare for us in this life, and his dying; and all the pains and passions of all his creatures, ghostly and bodily; (for we be all partly noughted, and we shall be noughted following our master, jesus, till we be full purged, that is to say, till we be fully noughted of our deadly flesh and of all our inward affections which are not very good;) and the beholding of this, with all pains that ever were or ever shall be,--and with all these i understand the passion of christ for most pain, and overpassing. all this was shewed in a touch and quickly passed over into comfort: for our good lord would not that the soul were affeared of this terrible sight. but i saw not _sin_: for i believe it hath no manner of substance nor no part of being, nor could it be known but by the pain it is cause of. and thus[ ] pain, _it_ is something, as to my sight, for a time; for it purgeth, and maketh us to know ourselves and to ask mercy. for the passion of our lord is comfort to us against all this, and so is his blessed will. and for the tender love that our good lord hath to all that shall be saved, he comforteth readily and sweetly, signifying thus: _it is sooth[ ] that sin is cause of all this pain; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner [of] thing shall be well._ these words were said full tenderly, showing no manner of blame to me nor to any that shall be saved. then were it a great unkindness[ ] to blame or wonder on god for my sin, since he blameth not me for sin. and in these words i saw a marvellous high mystery hid in god, which mystery he shall openly make known to us in heaven: in which knowing we shall verily see the cause why he suffered sin to come. in which sight we shall endlessly joy in our lord god.[ ] [ ] "synne is behovabil, but al shal be wel & al shal be wel & al manner of thyng shal be wele." [ ] being made as nothing, set at nought. [ ] s. de cressy has "this" instead of _thus_. [ ] _i.e._ truth, an actual reality. see lxxxii. [ ] as it were, an unreasonable contravention of natural, filial trust. [ ] see also chap. lxi. from the _enchiridion_ of saint augustine:--"all things that exist, therefore, seeing that the creator of them all is supremely good, are themselves good. but because they are not like their creator, supremely and unchangeably good, their good may be diminished and increased. but for good to be diminished is an evil, although, however much it may be diminished, it is necessary, if the being is to continue, that some good should remain to constitute the being. for however small or of whatever kind the being may be, the good which makes it a being cannot be destroyed without destroying the being itself.... so long as a being is in process of corruption, there is in it some good of which it is being deprived; and if a part of the being should remain which cannot be corrupted, this will certainly be an incorruptible being, and accordingly the process of corruption will result in the manifestation of this great good. but if it do not cease to be corrupted, neither can it cease to possess good of which corruption may deprive it. but if it should be thoroughly and completely consumed by corruption, there will then be no good left, because there will be no being. wherefore corruption can consume the good only by consuming the being. every being, therefore, is a good; a great good, if it cannot be corrupted; a little good, if it can: but in any case, only the foolish or ignorant will deny that it is a good. and if it be wholly consumed by corruption, then the corruption itself must cease to exist, as there is no being left in which it can dwell." chap. x. "by the trinity, thus supremely and equally and unchangeably good, all things were created; and these are not supremely and equally and unchangeably good, but yet they are good, even taken separately. taken as a whole, however, they are very good, because their _ensemble_ constitutes the universe in all its wonderful order and beauty."--_the works of aurelius augustine, bishop of hippo_, (edited by the rev. marcus dods, d.d.), vol. ix. chapter xxviii "each brotherly compassion that man hath on his fellow christians, with charity, it is christ in him" thus i saw how christ hath compassion on us for the cause of sin. and right as i was afore in the [shewing of the] passion of christ fulfilled with pain and compassion, like so in this [sight] i was fulfilled, in part, with compassion of all mine even-christians--for that well, well beloved people that shall be saved. for god's servants, holy church, shall be shaken in sorrow and anguish, tribulation in this world, as men shake a cloth in the wind. and as to this our lord answered in this manner: _a great thing shall i make hereof in heaven of endless worship and everlasting joys._ yea, so far forth i saw, that our lord joyeth of the tribulations of his servants, with ruth and compassion. on each person that he loveth, to his bliss for to bring [them], he layeth something that is no blame in his sight, whereby they are blamed and despised in this world, scorned, mocked,[ ] and outcasted. and this he doeth for to hinder the harm that they should take from the pomp and the vain-glory of this wretched life, and make their way ready to come to heaven, and up-raise them in his bliss everlasting. for he saith: _i shall wholly break you of your vain affections and your vicious pride; and after that i shall together gather you, and make you mild and meek, clean and holy, by oneing to me._ and then i saw that each kind compassion that man hath on his even-christians with charity, it is christ in him. that same noughting that was shewed in his passion, it was shewed again here in this compassion. wherein were two manner of understandings in our lord's meaning. the one was the bliss that we are brought to, wherein he willeth that we rejoice. the other is for comfort in our pain: for he willeth that we perceive that it shall all be turned to worship and profit by virtue of his passion, that we perceive that we suffer not alone but with him, and see him to be our ground, and that we see his pains and his noughting passeth so far all that we may suffer, that it may not be fully thought. the beholding of this will save us from murmuring[ ] and despair in the feeling of our pains. and if we see soothly that our sin deserveth it, yet his love excuseth us, and of his great courtesy he doeth away all our blame, and beholdeth us with ruth and pity as children innocent and unloathful. [ ] "something that is no lak in his syte, whereby thei are lakid & dispisyd in thys world, scornyd" (a word like "rapyd"--probably "mokyd," as in s. de cressy) "& outcasten." [ ] "gruching." chapter xxix "how could all be well, for the great harm that is come by sin to the creature?" but in this i stood beholding things general, troublously and mourning, saying thus to our lord in my meaning, with full great dread: _ah! good lord, how might all be well, for the great hurt that is come, by sin, to the creature?_ and here i desired, as far as i durst, to have some more open declaring wherewith i might be eased in this matter. and to this our blessed lord answered full meekly and with full lovely cheer, and shewed that adam's sin was the most harm that ever was done, or ever shall be, to the world's end; and also he shewed that this [sin] is openly known in all holy church on earth. furthermore he taught that i should behold the glorious satisfaction[ ]: for this amends-making[ ] is more pleasing to god and more worshipful, without comparison, than ever was the sin of adam harmful. then signifieth our blessed lord thus in this teaching, that we should take heed to this: _for since i have made well the most harm, then it is my will that thou know thereby that i shall make well all that is less._ [ ] "asyeth" = _asseth_, satisfying, fulfilment. see p. . [ ] "asyeth making". see preceding note. chapter xxx "two parts of truth: the part that is open: our saviour and our salvation;--and the part that is hid and shut up from us: all beside our salvation" he gave me understanding of two parts [of truth]. the one part is our saviour and our salvation. this blessed part is open and clear and fair and light, and plenteous,--for all mankind that is of good will, and shall be, is comprehended in this part. hereto are we bounden of god, and drawn and counselled and taught inwardly by the holy ghost and outwardly by holy church in the same grace. in this willeth our lord that we be occupied, joying in him; for he enjoyeth in us. the more plenteously that we take of this, with reverence and meekness, the more thanks we earn of him and the more speed[ ] to ourselves, thus--may we say--enjoying _our_ part of our lord. the other [part] is hid and shut up from us: that is to say, all that is beside our salvation. for it is our lord's privy counsel, and it belongeth to the royal lordship of god to have his privy counsel in peace, and it belongeth to his servant, for obedience and reverence, not to learn[ ] wholly his counsel. our lord hath pity and compassion on us for that some creatures make themselves so busy therein; and i am sure if we knew how much we should please him and ease ourselves by leaving it, we would. the saints that be in heaven, they will to know nothing but that which our lord willeth to shew them: and also their charity and their desire is ruled after the will of our lord: and thus ought we to will, like to them. then shall we nothing will nor desire but the will of our lord, as they do: for we are all one in god's seeing. and here was i learned that we shall trust and rejoice only in our saviour, blessed jesus, for all thing. [ ] _i.e._ profit. [ ] "it longyth to the ryal lordship of god to have his privy councell in pece, and it longyth to his servant for obedience and reverens not to wel wetyn his counselye." chapter xxxi "the spiritual thirst (which was in him from without beginning) is desire in him as long as we be in need, drawing us up to his bliss" and thus our good lord answered to all the questions and doubts that i might make, saying full comfortably: _i may make all thing well, i can make all thing well, i will make all thing well, and i shall make all thing well; and thou shalt see thyself that all manner of thing shall be well._ in that he saith, _i may_, i understand [it] for the father; and in that he saith, _i can_, i understand [it] for the son; and where he saith, _i will_, i understand [it] for the holy ghost; and where he saith, _i shall_, i understand [it] for the unity of the blessed trinity: three persons and one truth; and where he saith, _thou shalt see thyself_, i understand the oneing of all mankind that shall be saved unto the blessed trinity. and in these five words god willeth we be enclosed in rest and in peace. thus shall the spiritual thirst of christ have an end. for this is the spiritual thirst of christ: the love-longing that lasteth, and ever shall, till we see that sight on doomsday. for we that shall be saved and shall be christ's joy and his bliss, some be yet here and some be to come, and so shall some be, unto that day. therefore this is his thirst and love-longing, to have us altogether whole in him, to his bliss,--as to my sight. for we be not now as fully whole in him as we shall be then. for we know in our faith, and also it was shewed in all [the revelations] that christ jesus is both god and man. and anent the godhead, he is himself highest bliss, and was, from without beginning, and shall be, without end: which endless bliss may never be heightened nor lowered in itself. for this was plenteously seen in every shewing, and specially in the twelfth, where he saith: _i am that [which] is highest_. and anent christ's manhood, it is known in our faith, and also [it was] shewed, that he, with the virtue of godhead, for love, to bring us to his bliss suffered pains and passions, and died. and these be the works of christ's manhood wherein he rejoiceth; and that shewed he in the ninth revelation, where he saith: _it is a joy and bliss and endless pleasing to me that ever i suffered passion for thee._ and this is the bliss of christ's _works_, and thus he signifieth where he saith in that same shewing: we be his bliss, we be his meed, we be his worship, we be his crown. for anent that christ is our head, he is glorified and impassible; and anent his body in which all his members are knit, he is not yet fully glorified nor all impassible. therefore the same desire and thirst that he had upon the cross (which desire, longing, and thirst, as to my sight, was in him from without beginning) the same hath he yet, and shall [have] unto the time that the last soul that shall be saved is come up to his bliss. for as verily as there is a property in god of ruth and pity, so verily there is a property in god of thirst and longing. (and of the virtue of this longing in christ, _we_ have to long again to him: without which no soul cometh to heaven.) and this property of longing and thirst cometh of the endless goodness of god, even as the property of pity cometh of his endless goodness. and though longing and pity are two sundry properties, as to my sight, in this standeth the point of the spiritual thirst: which is _desire in him as long as we be in need_, drawing us up to his bliss. and all this was seen in the shewing of compassion: for that shall cease on doomsday. thus he hath ruth and compassion on us, and he hath longing to have us; but his wisdom and his love suffereth not the end to come till the best time. chapter xxxii "there be deeds evil done in our sight, and so great harms taken, that it seemeth to us that it were impossible that ever it should come to good end." "that great deed ordained ... by which our lord god shall make all things well" one time our good lord said: _all thing shall be well_; and another time he said: _thou shalt see thyself that all_ manner _[of] thing shall be well_; and in these two [sayings] the soul took sundry understandings. one was that he willeth we know that not only he taketh heed to noble things and to great, but also to little and to small, to low and to simple, to one and to other. and so meaneth he in that he saith: all manner of things _shall be well_. for he willeth we know that the least thing shall not be forgotten. another understanding is this, that there be deeds evil done in our sight, and so great harms taken, that it seemeth to us that it were impossible that ever it should come to good end. and upon this we look, sorrowing and mourning therefor, so that we cannot resign us unto the blissful beholding of god as we should do. and the cause of this is that the use of our reason is now so blind, so low, and so simple, that we cannot know that high marvellous wisdom, the might and the goodness of the blissful trinity. and thus signifieth he when he saith: thou shalt see thyself _if[ ] all manner of things shall be well_. as if he said: _take now heed faithfully and trustingly, and at the last end thou shalt verily see it in fulness of joy_. and thus in these same five words aforesaid: _i may make all things well_, etc., i understand a mighty comfort of all the works of our lord god that are yet to come. there is a deed the which the blessed trinity shall do in the last day, as to my sight, and when the deed shall be, and how it shall be done, is unknown of all creatures that are beneath christ, and shall be till when it is done. ["the goodness and the love of our lord god will that we wit [know] that it shall be; and the might and the wisdom of him by the same love will hill [conceal] it, and hide it from us what it shall be, and how it shall be done."][ ] and the cause why he willeth that we know [this deed shall be], is for that he would have us the more eased in our soul and [the more] set at peace in love[ ]--leaving the beholding of all troublous things that might keep us back from true enjoying of him. this is that great deed ordained of our lord god from without beginning, treasured and hid in his blessed breast, only known to himself: by which he shall make all things well. for like as the blissful trinity made all things of nought, right so the same blessed trinity shall make well all that is not well. and in this sight i marvelled greatly and beheld our faith, marvelling thus: our faith is grounded in god's word, and it belongeth to our faith that we believe that god's word shall be saved in all things; and one point of our faith is that many creatures shall be condemned: as angels that fell out of heaven for pride, which be now fiends; and man[ ] in earth that dieth out of the faith of holy church: that is to say, they that be heathen men; and also man[ ] that hath received christendom and liveth unchristian life and so dieth out of charity: all these shall be condemned to hell without end, as holy church teacheth me to believe. and all this [so] standing,[ ] methought it was impossible that all manner of things should be well, as our lord shewed in the same time. and as to this i had no other answer in shewing of our lord god but this: _that which is impossible to thee is not impossible to me: i shall save my word in all things and i shall make all things well._ thus i was taught, by the grace of god, that i should steadfastly hold me in the faith as i had aforehand understood, [and] therewith that i should firmly believe that all things shall be well, as our lord shewed in the same time. for this is the great deed that our lord shall do, in which deed he shall save his word and he shall make all well that is not well. how it shall be done there is no creature beneath christ that knoweth it, nor shall know it till it is done; according to the understanding that i took of our lord's meaning in this time. [ ] "if" = "that." (acts xxvi. .) [ ] inserted from serenus de cressy's version. [ ] "pecid in love--levyng the beholdyng of al tempests that might letten us of trew enjoyeng in hym." s. de cressy: "let us of true enjoying in him." [ ] s. de cressy, "many." [ ] s. de cressy, "many." [ ] "stondyng al this." chapter xxxiii "it is god's will that we have great regard to all his deeds that he hath done, but evermore it needeth us to leave the beholding what the deed shall be" and yet in this i desired, as [far] as i durst, that i might have full sight of hell and purgatory. but it was not my meaning to make proof of anything that belongeth to the faith: for i believed soothfastly that hell and purgatory is for the same end that holy church teacheth, but my meaning was that i might have seen, for learning in all things that belong to my faith: whereby i might live the more to god's worship and to my profit. but for [all] my desire, i could[ ] [see] of this right nought, save as it is aforesaid in the first shewing, where i saw that the devil is reproved of god and endlessly condemned. in which sight i understood as to all creatures that are of the devil's condition in this life, and therein end, that there is no more mention made of them afore god and all his holy than of the devil,--notwithstanding that they be of mankind--whether they be christened or not. for though the revelation was made of goodness in which was made little mention of evil, yet i was not drawn thereby from any point of the faith that holy church teacheth me to believe. for i had sight of the passion of christ in diverse shewings,--the first, the second, the fifth, and the eighth,--wherein i had in part a feeling of the sorrow of our lady, and of his true friends that saw him in pain; but i saw not so properly specified the jews that did him to death. notwithstanding i knew in my faith that they were accursed and condemned without end, saving those that converted, by grace. and i was strengthened and taught generally to keep me in the faith in every point, and in all as i had before understood: hoping that i was therein with the mercy and the grace of god; desiring and praying in my purpose that i might continue therein unto my life's end. and it is god's will that we have great regard to all his deeds that he hath done, but evermore it needeth us to leave the beholding what the deed shall be. and let us desire to be like our brethren which be saints in heaven, that will right nought but god's will and are well pleased both with hiding and with shewing. for i saw soothly in our lord's teaching, the more we busy us to know his secret counsels in this or any other thing, the farther shall we be from the knowing thereof. [ ] "i coude of this right nowte." chapter xxxiv "all that is speedful for us to learn and to know, full courteously will our lord shew us" our lord god shewed two manner of secret things. one is this great secret [counsel] with all the privy points that belong thereto: and these secret things he willeth we should know [as _being_, but as] _hid_ until the time that he will clearly shew them to us. the other are the secret things that he willeth to make open and known to us; for he would have us understand that it is his will that we should know them. they are secrets to us not only for that he willeth that they be secrets to us, but they are secrets to us for our blindness and our ignorance; and thereof he hath great ruth, and therefore he will himself make them more open to us, whereby we may know him and love him and cleave to him. for all that is speedful for us to learn and to know, full courteously will our lord shew us: and [of] that is this [shewing], with all the preaching and teaching of holy church. god shewed full great pleasance that he hath in all men and women that mightily and meekly and with all their will take the preaching and teaching of holy church. for it is his holy church: he is the ground, he is the substance, he is the teaching, he is the teacher, he is the end, he is the meed for which every kind soul travaileth. and _this_ [of the shewing] is [made] known, and shall be known to every soul to which the holy ghost declareth it. and i hope truly that all those that seek this, he shall speed: for they seek god. all this that i have now told, and more that i shall tell after, is comforting against sin. for in the third shewing when i saw that god doeth all that is done, i saw no sin: and then i saw that all _is_ well. but when god shewed me for sin, then said he: _all_ shall _be well_. chapter xxxv "i desired to learn assuredly as to a certain creature that i loved.... it is more worship to god to behold him in _all_ than in any special thing" and when god almighty had shewed so plenteously and joyfully of his goodness, i desired to learn assuredly as to a certain creature that i loved, if it should continue in good living, which i hoped by the grace of god was begun. and in this desire for a _singular_ shewing, it seemed that i hindered myself: for i was not taught in this time. and then was i answered in my reason, as it were by a friendly intervenor[ ]: _take it_ generally, _and behold the graciousness of the lord god as he sheweth to thee: for it is more worship to god to behold him in all than in any special thing_. and therewith i learned that it is more worship to god to know all-thing in general, than to take pleasure in any special thing. and if i should do wisely according to this teaching, i should not only be glad for nothing in special, but i should not be greatly distressed for no manner of thing[ ]: for all _shall be well_. for the fulness of joy is to behold god in _all_: for by the same blessed might, wisdom, and love, that he made all-thing, to the same end our good lord leadeth it continually, and thereto himself shall bring it; and when it is time we shall see it. and the ground of this was shewed in the first [revelation], and more openly in the third, where it saith: _i saw god in a point_. all that our lord doeth is rightful, and that which he suffereth[ ] is worshipful: and in these two is comprehended good and ill: for all that is good our lord doeth, and that which is evil our lord suffereth. i say not that any evil is worshipful, but i say the sufferance of our lord god is worshipful: whereby his goodness shall be known, without end, in his marvellous meekness and mildness, by the working of mercy and grace. _rightfulness_ is that thing that is so good that [it] may not be better than it is. for god himself is very rightfulness, and all his works are done rightfully as they are ordained from without beginning by his high might, his high wisdom, his high goodness. and right as he ordained unto the best, right so he worketh continually, and leadeth it to the same end; and he is ever full-pleased with himself and with all his works. and the beholding of this blissful accord is full sweet to the soul that seeth by grace. all the souls that shall be saved in heaven without end be made rightful in the sight of god, and by his own goodness: in which rightfulness we are endlessly kept, and marvellously, above all creatures. and _mercy_ is a working that cometh of the goodness of god, and it shall last in working all along, as sin is suffered to pursue rightful souls. and when sin hath no longer leave to pursue, then shall the working of mercy cease, and then shall all be brought to rightfulness and therein stand without end. and by his sufferance we fall; and in his blissful love with his might and his wisdom we are kept; and by mercy and grace we are raised to manifold more joys. thus in rightfulness and mercy he willeth to be known and loved, now and without end. and the soul that wisely beholdeth it in grace, it is well pleased with both, and endlessly enjoyeth. [ ] "a friendful mene" = intermediary (person or thing), medium: compare chaps. xix., lv. [ ] see xxxvi. . [ ] _i.e._ alloweth. chapter xxxvi "my sin shall not hinder his goodness working.... a deed shall be done--as we come to heaven--and it may be known here in part;--though it be truly taken for the general man, yet it excludeth not the special. for what our good lord will do by his poor creatures, it is now unknown to me" our lord god shewed that a deed shall be done, and himself shall do it, and i shall do nothing but sin, and my sin shall not hinder[ ] his goodness working. and i saw that the beholding of this is a heavenly joy in a fearing soul which evermore kindly by grace desireth god's will. this deed shall be begun here, and it shall be worshipful to god and plenteously profitable to his lovers in earth; and ever as we come to heaven we shall see it in marvellous joy, and it shall last thus in working unto the last day; and the worship and the bliss of it shall last in heaven afore god and all his holy [ones] for ever. thus was this deed seen and understood in our lord's signifying: and the cause why he shewed it is to make us rejoice in him and in all his works. when i saw his shewing continued, i understood that it was shewed for a great thing that was for to come, which thing god shewed that he himself should do it: which deed hath these properties aforesaid. and this shewed he well blissfully, signifying that i should take it myself faithfully and trustingly. but what this deed should be was kept secret from me. and in this i saw that he willeth not that we dread to know the things that he sheweth: he sheweth them because he would have us know them; by which knowing he would have us love him and have pleasure and endlessly enjoy in him. for the great love that he hath to us he sheweth us all that is worshipful and profitable for the time. and the things that he will now have privy, yet of his great goodness he sheweth them _close_: in which shewing he willeth that we believe and understand that we shall see the same verily in his endless bliss. then ought we to rejoice in him for all that he sheweth and all that he hideth; and if we steadily[ ] and meekly do thus, we shall find therein great ease; and endless thanks we shall have of him therefor. and this is the understanding of this word:--that it shall be done for me, meaneth that it shall be done for the general man: that is to say, all that shall be saved. it shall be worshipful and marvellous and plenteous, and god himself shall do it; and this shall be the highest joy that may be, to behold the deed that god himself shall do, and man shall do right nought but sin. then signifieth our lord god thus, as if he said: _behold and see! here hast thou matter of meekness, here hast thou matter of love, here hast thou matter to make nought of[ ] thyself, here hast thou matter to enjoy in me;--and, for my love, enjoy [thou] in me: for of all things, therewith mightest thou please me most_. and as long as we are in this life, what time that we by our folly turn us to the beholding of the reproved, tenderly our lord god toucheth us and blissfully calleth us, saying in our soul: _let be all thy love, my dearworthy child: turn thee to me--i am enough to thee--and enjoy in thy saviour and in thy salvation_. and that this is our lord's working in us, i am sure the soul that hath understanding[ ] therein by grace shall see it and feel it. and though it be so that this deed be truly taken for the general man, yet it excludeth not the special. for what our good lord will do by his poor creatures, it is now unknown to me. but this deed and that other aforesaid, they are not both one but two sundry. this deed shall be done sooner (and that [time] shall be as we come to heaven), and to whom our lord giveth it, it may be known here in part. but that great deed aforesaid shall neither be known in heaven nor earth till it is done. and moreover he gave special understanding and teaching of working of miracles, as thus:--_it is known that i have done miracles here afore, many and diverse, high and marvellous, worshipful and great. and so as i have done, i do now continually, and shall do in coming of time_. it is known that afore miracles come sorrow and anguish and tribulation[ ]; and that is for that we should know our own feebleness and our mischiefs that we are fallen in by sin, to meeken us and make us to dread god and cry for help and grace. miracles come after that, and they come of the high might, wisdom, and goodness of god, shewing his virtue and the joys of heaven so far at it may be in this passing life: and that to strengthen our faith and to increase our hope, in charity. wherefore it pleaseth him to be known and worshipped in miracles. then signifieth he thus: he willeth that we be not borne over low for sorrow and tempests that fall to us: for it hath ever so been afore miracle-coming. [ ] "lettyn his goodnes werkyng." [ ] "wilfully." [ ] "to nowten." [ ] "is a perceyvid" (s. de cressy, "pearced"; collins, "pierced";) = has perception. [ ] see v., xlviii., lix., lxi. chapter xxxvii "in every soul that shall be saved is a godly will that never assented to sin, nor ever shall."--"for failing of love on our part, therefore is all our travail" god brought to my mind that i should sin. and for pleasance that i had in beholding of him, i attended not readily to that shewing; and our lord full mercifully abode, and gave me grace to attend. and this shewing i took singularly to myself; but by all the gracious comfort that followeth, as ye shall see, i was learned to take it for all mine even-christians: _all in general and nothing in special_: though our lord shewed me that i should sin, by me alone is understood all. and therein i conceived a soft dread. and to this our lord answered: _i keep thee full surely_. this word was said with more love and secureness and spiritual keeping than i can or may tell. for as it was shewed that [i][ ] should sin, right so was the comfort shewed: secureness and keeping for all mine even-christians. what may make me more to love mine even-christians than to see in god that he loveth all that shall be saved as it were all one soul? for in every soul that shall be saved is a godly will that never assented to sin, nor ever shall. right as there is a beastly will in the lower part that may will no good, right so there is a godly will in the higher part, which will is so good that it may never will evil, but ever good. and therefore we are that which he loveth and endlessly we do that which him pleaseth. this shewed our lord in [shewing] the wholeness of love that we stand in, in his sight: yea, that he loveth us now as well while we are here, as he shall do while we are there afore his blessed face. but for failing of love on our part, therefore is all our travail. [ ] perhaps the omitted word is "_all_"; but de cressy has "i" as above: "that i should sin." chapter xxxviii in heaven "the token of sin is turned to worship."--_examples thereof_ also god shewed that sin shall be no shame to man, but worship. for right as to every sin is answering a pain by truth, right so for every sin, to the same soul is given a bliss by love: right as diverse sins are punished with diverse pains according as they be grievous, right so shall they be rewarded with diverse joys in heaven according as they have been painful and sorrowful to the soul in earth. for the soul that shall come to heaven is precious to god, and the place so worshipful that the goodness of god suffereth never that soul to sin that shall come there without that the which sin shall be rewarded; and it is made known without end, and blissfully restored by overpassing worship. for in this sight mine understanding was lifted up into heaven, and then god brought merrily to my mind david, and others in the old law without number; and in the new law he brought to my mind first mary magdalene, peter and paul, and those of inde;[ ] and saint john of beverley[ ]; and others also without number: how they are known in the church in earth with their sins, and it is to them no shame, but all is turned for them to worship. and therefore our courteous lord sheweth [it thus] for them here in part like as it is there in fulness: for there the token of sin is turned to worship. and saint john of beverley, our lord shewed him full highly, in comfort to us for homeliness; and brought to my mind how he is a dear neighbour,[ ] and of our knowing. and god called him _saint john of beverley_ plainly as we do, and that with a most glad sweet cheer, shewing that he is a full high saint in heaven in his sight, and a blissful. and with this he made mention that in his youth and in his tender age he was a dearworthy servant to god, greatly god loving and dreading, and yet god suffered him to fall, mercifully keeping him that he perished not, nor lost no time. and afterward god raised him to manifold more grace, and by the contrition and meekness that he had in his living, god hath given him in heaven manifold joys, overpassing that [which] he should have had if he had not fallen. and that this is sooth, god sheweth in earth with plenteous miracles doing about his body continually. and all this was to make us glad and merry in love. [ ] s. thomas and s. jude. according to tradition the gospel was carried to india by these apostles. [ ] s. john of beverley was consecrated bishop of hexham in , and was afterwards archbishop of york. "he founded the monastery of beverley in the midst of the wood called deira, among the ruins of the deserted roman settlement of pentuaria. this monastery, like so many others of the anglo-saxons, was a double community of monks and nuns. in john retired for the remaining years of his life to beverley, where he died in on the th of may.... he was canonised in . henschenius the bollandist, in the second tome of may, has published books of the miracles wrought at the relicks of st john of beverley written by eye-witnesses. his sacred bones were honourably translated into the church of alfric, archbishop of york, in . a feast in honour of his translation was kept on the th of october."--alban butler's _lives of the saints_, etc. perhaps the fact that the saint's original feast day of the th of may occurred on the second day of julian's illness, had something to do with his being brought to her mind a few days after with so much vividness. [ ] "and browte to mynd how he is an hende neybor and of our knowyng"--_i.e._ he was a countryman of our own. "hende" = near, urbane, gentle. chapter xxxix "sin is the sharpest scourge.... by contrition we are made clean, by compassion we are made ready, and by true longing towards god we are made worthy" sin is the sharpest scourge that any chosen soul may be smitten with: which scourge thoroughly beateth[ ] man and woman, and maketh him hateful in his own sight, so far forth that afterwhile[ ] he thinketh himself he is not worthy but as to sink in hell,--till [that time] when contrition taketh him by touching of the holy ghost, and turneth the bitterness into hopes of god's mercy. and then he beginneth his wounds to heal, and the soul to quicken [as it is] turned unto the life of holy church. the holy ghost leadeth him to confession, with all his will to shew his sins nakedly and truly, with great sorrow and great shame that he hath defouled the fair image of god. then receiveth he penance for every sin [as] enjoined by his doomsman[ ] that is grounded in holy church by the teaching of the holy ghost. and this is one meekness that greatly pleaseth god; and also bodily sickness of god's sending, and also sorrow and shame from without, and reproof, and despite of this world, with all manner of grievance and temptations that we be cast in,[ ] bodily and ghostly. full preciously our lord keepeth us when it seemeth to us that we are near forsaken and cast away for our sin and because we have deserved it. and because of meekness that we get hereby, we are raised well-high in god's sight by his grace, with so great contrition, and also compassion, and true longing to god. then they be suddenly delivered from sin and from pain, and taken up to bliss, and made even high saints. by contrition we are made clean, by compassion we are made ready, and by true longing toward god we are made worthy. these are three means, as i understand, whereby that all souls come to heaven: that is to say, that have been sinners in earth and shall be saved: for by these three medicines it behoveth that every soul be healed. though the soul be healed, his wounds are seen afore god,--not as wounds but as worships. and so on the contrary-wise, as we be punished here with sorrow and penance, we shall be rewarded in heaven by the courteous love of our lord god almighty, who willeth that none that come there lose his travail in any degree. for he [be]holdeth sin as sorrow and pain to his lovers, to whom he assigneth no blame, for love. the meed that we shall receive shall not be little, but it shall be high, glorious, and worshipful. and so shall shame be turned to worship and more joy. but our courteous lord willeth not that his servants despair, for often nor for grievous falling: for our falling hindereth[ ] not him to love us. peace and love are ever in us, being and working; but we be not alway in peace and in love. but he willeth that we take heed thus that he is ground of all our whole life in love; and furthermore that he is our everlasting keeper and mightily defendeth us against our enemies, that be full fell and fierce upon us;--and so much our need is the more for [that] we give them occasion by our falling.[ ] [ ] "al forbetyth." s. de cressy: "all to beateth," judges ix. . [ ] "otherwhile." [ ] s. de cressy: "dome's-man, _i.e._ confessarius." [ ] ms. "will be cast in." [ ] letteth not him to love us. [ ] see chap. lxviii. inx both passages the brit. mus. ms. seems to have "him," not "hem" = them. the reading here might be: "for we give _him_ occasion by our failing"--occasion to keep and defend us: and so in lxxviii.: "he keepeth us mightily and mercifully in the time that we are in our sin and among all our enemies that are full fell upon us;--and so much we are in the more peril. for we give him occasion thereto and know not our own need." or possibly the sense is ( ): he defendeth us "so much [as] our need is the more" [so much more as]; and ( ) "so much [more as] we are in the more peril." but s. de cressy's version has in both passages "them," and this reading agrees with chap. lxxvi.: "we have this [fear] by the stirring of our enemy and by our own folly and blindness"--we who "fall often into sin." chapter xl "true love teacheth us that we should hate sin only for love." "to me was shewed no harder hell than sin." "god willeth that we endlessly hate the sin and endlessly love the soul, as god loveth it" this is a sovereign friendship of our courteous lord that he keepeth us so tenderly while we be in sin; and furthermore he toucheth us full privily and sheweth us our sin by the sweet light of mercy and grace. but when we see our self so foul, then ween we that god were wroth with us for our sin, and then are we stirred of the holy ghost by contrition unto prayer and desire for the amending of our life with all our mights, to slacken the wrath of god, unto the time we find a rest in soul and a softness in conscience. then hope we that god hath forgiven us our sins: and it is truth. and then sheweth our courteous lord himself to the soul--well-merrily and with glad cheer--with friendly welcoming as if it[ ] had been in pain and in prison, saying sweetly thus: _my darling i am glad thou art come to me: in all thy wo i have ever been with thee; and now seest thou my loving and we be oned in bliss_. thus are sins forgiven by mercy and grace, and our soul is worshipfully received in joy like as it shall be when it cometh to heaven, as oftentimes as it cometh by the gracious working of the holy ghost and the virtue of christ's passion. here understand i in truth that all manner of things are made ready for us by the great goodness of god, so far forth that what time we be ourselves in peace and charity, we be verily saved. but because we may not have this in fulness while we are here, therefore it falleth to us evermore to live in sweet prayer and lovely longing with our lord jesus. for he longeth ever to bring us to the fulness of joy; as it is aforesaid, where he sheweth the spiritual thirst. but now if any man or woman because of all this spiritual comfort that is aforesaid, be stirred by folly to say or to think: _if this be true, then were it good to sin [so as] to have the more meed_,--or else to charge the less [guilt] to sin,--beware of this stirring: for verily if it come it is untrue, and of the enemy of the same true love that teacheth us that we should hate sin only for love. i am sure by mine own feeling, the more that any kind[ ] soul seeth this in the courteous love of our lord god, the lother he is to sin and the more he is ashamed. for if afore us were laid [together] all the pains in hell and in purgatory and in earth--death and other--, and [by itself] sin, we should rather choose all that pain than sin. for sin is so vile and so greatly to be hated that it may be likened to no pain which is not sin. and to me was shewed no harder hell than sin. for a kind[ ] soul hath no hell but sin. and [when] we give our intent to love and meekness, by the working of mercy and grace we are made all fair and clean. as mighty and as wise as god is to save men, so willing he is. for christ himself is [the] ground of all the laws of christian men, and he taught us to do good against ill: here may we see that he is himself this charity, and doeth to us as he teacheth us to do. for he willeth that we be like him in wholeness of endless love to ourself and to our even-christians: no more than his love is broken to us for our sin, no more willeth he that our love be broken to ourself and to our even-christians: but [that we] endlessly hate the sin and endlessly love the soul, as god loveth it. then shall we hate sin like as god hateth it, and love the soul as god loveth it. and this word that he said is an endless comfort: _i keep thee securely_. [ ] "he," that is, the soul. [ ] a naturally-loving, filial human soul. [ ] a naturally-loving, filial human soul. _the fourteenth revelation._ chapter xli "_i am the ground of thy beseeching._" "also to prayer belongeth thanking" after this our lord shewed concerning prayer. in which shewing i see two conditions in our lord's signifying: one is rightfulness, another is sure trust. but yet oftentimes our trust is not full: for we are not sure that god heareth us, as we think because of our unworthiness, and because we feel right nought, (for we are as barren and dry oftentimes after our prayers as we were afore); and this, in our feeling our folly, is cause of our weakness.[ ] for thus have i felt in myself. and all this brought our lord suddenly to my mind, and shewed these words, and said: _i am ground of thy beseeching: first it is my will that thou have it; and after, i make thee to will it; and after, i make thee to beseech it and thou beseechest it. how should it then be that thou shouldst not have thy beseeching?_ and thus in the first reason, with the three that follow, our good lord sheweth a mighty comfort, as it may be seen in the same words. and in the first reason,--where he saith: _and thou beseechest it_, there he sheweth [his] full great pleasance, and endless meed that he will give us for our beseeching. and in the second reason, where he saith: _how should it then be?_ etc., this was said for an impossible [thing]. for it is most impossible that we should beseech mercy and grace, and not have it. for everything that our good lord maketh us to beseech, himself hath ordained it to us from without beginning. here may we see that our beseeching is not cause of god's goodness; and that shewed he soothfastly in all these sweet words when he saith: _i am [the] ground_.--and our good lord willeth that this be known of his lovers in earth; and the more that we know [it] the more should we beseech, if it be wisely taken; and so is our lord's meaning. beseeching is a true, gracious, lasting will of the soul, oned and fastened into the will of our lord by the sweet inward work of the holy ghost. our lord himself, he is the first receiver of our prayer, as to my sight, and taketh it full thankfully and highly enjoying; and he sendeth it up above and setteth it in the treasure, where it shall never perish. it is there afore god with all his holy continually received, ever speeding [the help of] our needs; and when we shall receive our bliss it shall be given us for a degree of joy, with endless worshipful thanking from[ ] him. full glad and merry is our lord of our prayer; and he looketh thereafter and he willeth to have it because with his grace he maketh us like to himself in condition as we are in kind: and so is his blissful will. therefore he saith thus: _pray inwardly,[ ] though thee thinketh it savour thee not: for it is profitable, though thou feel not, though thou see nought; yea, though thou think thou canst not. for in dryness and in barrenness, in sickness and in feebleness, then is thy prayer well-pleasant to me, though thee thinketh it savour thee nought but little. and so is all thy believing prayer in my sight._ for the meed and the endless thanks that he will give us, _therefor_ he is covetous to have us pray continually in his sight. god accepteth the goodwill and the travail of his servant, howsoever we feel: wherefore it pleaseth him that we work both in our prayers and in good living, by his help and his grace, reasonably with discretion keeping our powers[ ] [turned] to him, till when that we have him that we seek, in fulness of joy: that is, jesus. and that shewed he in the fifteenth [revelation], farther on, in this word: _thou shalt have me to thy meed_. and also to prayer belongeth thanking. thanking is a true inward knowing, with great reverence and lovely dread turning ourselves with all our mights unto the working that our good lord stirreth us to, enjoying and thanking inwardly. and sometimes, for plenteousness it breaketh out with voice, and saith: _good lord, i thank thee![ ] blessed mayst thou be!_ and sometime when the heart is dry and feeleth not, or else by temptation of our enemy,--then it is driven by reason and by grace to cry upon our lord with voice, rehearing his blessed passion and his great goodness; and the virtue of our lord's word turneth into the soul and quickeneth the heart and entereth[ ] it by his grace into true working, and maketh it pray right blissfully. and truly to enjoy our lord, it is a full blissful thanking in his sight. [ ] ms.: "_and this in our felyng our foly is cause of our wekenes._" s. de cressy: "and thus in our feelings our folly is cause of our weakness." [ ] "of" = by, from. [ ] "inderly" = inwardly--or from the heart: heartily, as in lxvi. [ ] _i.e._ faculties.--ms. "mights." [ ] "grante mercy" = _grand-merci_. [ ] "entrith," leadeth. chapter xlii "prayer is a right understanding of that fulness of joy that is to come, with accordant longing and sure trust" our lord god willeth that we have true understanding, and specially in three things that belong to our prayer. the first is: _by whom and how that our prayer springeth. by whom_, he sheweth when he saith: _i am [the] ground_; and _how_, by his goodness: for he saith first: _it is my will._ the second is: _in what manner and how we should use our prayer_; and that is that our will be turned unto the will of our lord, enjoying: and so meaneth he when he saith: _i make thee to will it_. the third is that we should know _the fruit and the end of our prayers_: that is, that we be oned and like to our lord in all things; and to this intent and for this end was all this lovely lesson shewed. and he will help us, and we shall make it so as he saith himself;--blessed may he be! for this is our lord's will, that our prayer and our trust be both alike large. for if we trust not as much as we pray, we do not full worship to our lord in our prayer, and also we tarry[ ] and pain our self. the cause is, as i believe, that we know not truly that our lord is [the] ground on whom our prayer springeth; and also that we know not that it is given us by the grace of his love. for if we knew this, it would make us to trust to have, of our lord's gift, all that we desire. for i am sure that no man asketh mercy and grace with true meaning, but if mercy and grace be first given to him. but sometimes it cometh to our mind that we have prayed long time, and yet we think to ourselves that we have not our asking. but herefor should we not be in heaviness. for i am sure, by our lord's signifying, that either we abide a better time, or more grace, or a better gift. he willeth that we have true knowing in himself that he is being; and in this knowing he willeth that our understanding be grounded, with all our mights and all our intent and all our meaning; and in this ground he willeth that we take our place and our dwelling, and by the gracious light of himself he willeth that we have understanding of the things that follow. the first is our noble and excellent making; the second, our precious and dearworthy again-buying; the third, all-thing that he hath made beneath us, [he hath made] to serve us, and for our love keepeth it. then signifieth he thus, as if he said: _behold and see that i have done all this before thy prayers; and now thou art, and prayest me_. and thus he signifieth that it belongeth to us to learn that the greatest deeds be [already] done, as holy church teacheth; and in the beholding of this, with thanking, we ought to pray for the deed that is now in doing: and that is, that he rule and guide us, to his worship, in this life, and bring us to his bliss. and therefor he hath done all. then signifieth he thus: that we [should] see that he doeth it, and that we [should] pray therefor. for the one is not enough. for if we pray and see not that he doeth it, it maketh us heavy and doubtful; and that is not his worship. and if we see that he doeth, and we pray not, we do not our debt, and so may it not be: that is to say, so is it not [the thing that is] in his beholding. but to see that he doeth it, and to pray forthwithal,--so is he worshipped and we sped. all-thing that our lord hath ordained to do, it is his will that we pray therefor, either in special or in general. and the joy and the bliss that it is to him, and the thanks and the worship that we shall have therefor, it passeth the understanding of creatures, as to my sight. for prayer is a right[ ] understanding of that fulness of joy that is to come, with well-longing and sure trust. failing of our bliss that we be kindly ordained to, maketh us to long; true understanding and love, with sweet mind in our saviour, graciously maketh us to trust. and in these two workings our lord beholdeth us continually[ ]: for it is our due part, and his goodness may no less assign to us. thus it belongeth to us to do our diligence; and when we have done it, then shall us yet think that [it] is nought,--and sooth it is. but if we do as we can, and ask, in truth, for mercy and grace, all that faileth us we shall find in him. and thus signifieth he where he saith: _i am ground of thy beseeching_. and thus in this blessed word, with the shewing, i saw a full overcoming against all our weakness and all our doubtful dreads. [ ] _i.e._ torment, tire, hinder. [ ] "rythwis" = right manner of. [ ] or: 'and for these two workings our lord looketh to us continually.' see above: "so is it not in his beholding," and chap. xliii. "for he beholdeth us in love and would make us partners of his good deed." chapter xliii "prayer uniteth the soul to god" prayer oneth the soul to god. for though the soul be ever like to god in kind and substance, restored by grace, it is often unlike in condition, by sin on man's part. then is prayer a witness that the soul willeth as god willeth; and it comforteth the conscience and enableth man to grace. and thus he teacheth us to pray, and mightily to trust that we shall have it. for he beholdeth us in love and would make us partners of his good deed, and therefore he stirreth us to pray for that which it pleaseth him to do. for which prayer and good will, that we have of his gift, he will reward us and give us endless meed. and this was shewed in this word: _and thou beseechest it_. in this word god shewed so great pleasance and so great content, as though he were much beholden to us for every good deed that we do (and yet it is _he_ that doeth it) because that we beseech him mightily to do all things that seem to him good: as if he said: _what might then please me more than to beseech me, mightily, wisely, and earnestly, to do that thing that i shall do?_ and thus the soul by prayer accordeth to god. but when our courteous lord of his grace sheweth himself to our soul, we have that [which] we desire. and then we see not, for the time, what we should more pray, but all our intent with all our might is set wholly to the beholding of him. and this is an high unperceivable prayer, as to my sight: for all the cause wherefor we pray it, is oned into the sight and beholding of him to whom we pray; marvellously enjoying with reverent dread, and with so great sweetness and delight in him that we can pray right nought but as he stirreth us, for the time. and well i wot, the more the soul seeth of god, the more it desireth him by his grace. but when we see him not so, then feel we need and cause to pray, because of failing, for enabling of our self, to jesus. for when the soul is tempested, troubled, and left to itself by unrest, then it is time to pray, for to make itself pliable and obedient[ ] to god. (but the soul by no manner of prayer maketh god pliant to it: for he is ever alike in love.) and this i saw: that what time we see needs wherefor we pray, then our _good lord followeth us_, helping our desire; and when we of his special grace plainly behold him, seeing none other needs, then _we follow him_ and he draweth us unto him by love. for i saw and felt that his marvellous and plentiful goodness fulfilleth all our powers; and therewith i saw that his continuant working in all manner of things is done so goodly, so wisely, and so mightily, that it overpasseth all our imagining, and all that we can ween and think; and then we can do no more but behold him, enjoying, with an high, mighty desire to be all oned unto him,--centred to his dwelling,--and enjoy in his loving and delight in his goodness. and then shall we, with his sweet grace, in our own meek continuant prayer come unto him now in this life by many privy touchings of sweet spiritual sights and feeling, measured to us as our simpleness may bear it. and this is wrought, and shall be, by the grace of the holy ghost, so long till we shall die in longing, for love. and then shall we all come into our lord, our self clearly knowing, and god fully having; and we shall endlessly be all had in god: him verily seeing and fully feeling, him spiritually hearing, and him delectably in-breathing, and [of] him sweetly drinking.[ ] and then shall we see god face to face, homely and fully. the creature that is made shall see and endlessly behold god which is the maker. for thus may no man see god and live after, that is to say, in this deadly life. but when he of his special grace will shew himself here, he strengtheneth the creature above its self, and he measureth the shewing, after his own will, as it is profitable for the time. [ ] "supple and buxum." [ ] to express the fulness of spiritual perception the mystic seizes on all the five sense-perceptions as symbols. for the last word s. de cressy gives again the word "smelling" (rendered here, above, by "in-breathing"). collins reads the brit. mus. ms. as "following"; but the word there is "swelowyng" = swallowing. _anent certain points in the foregoing fourteen revelations_ chapter xliv "god is endless, sovereign truth,--wisdom,--love, not-made; and man's soul is a creature in god which hath the same properties made" god shewed in all the revelations, oftentimes, that man worketh evermore his will and his worship lastingly without any stinting. and _what_ this work is, was shewed in the first, and that in a marvellous example: for it was shewed in the working of the soul of our blissful lady, saint mary: [that is, the working of] truth and wisdom.[ ] and _how_ [it is done] i hope by the grace of the holy ghost i shall tell, as i saw. truth seeth god, and wisdom beholdeth god, and of these two cometh the third: that is, a holy marvellous[ ] delight in god; which is love. where truth and wisdom are verily, there is love verily, coming of them both. and all of god's making: for he is endless sovereign truth, endless sovereign wisdom, endless sovereign love, unmade; and man's soul is a creature in god which hath the same properties _made_,[ ] and evermore it doeth that it was made for: it seeth god, it beholdeth god, and it loveth god. whereof god enjoyeth in the creature; and the creature in god, endlessly marvelling. in which marvelling he seeth his god, his lord, his maker so high, so great, and so good, in comparison with him that is made, that scarcely the creature seemeth ought to the self. but the clarity and the clearness of truth and wisdom maketh him to see and to bear witness[ ] that he is made for love: in which god endlessly keepeth him. [ ] see chap. iv. [ ] _i.e. marvelling._ [ ] chaps. liv., lv. [ ] "beknowen." chapter xlv "all heavenly things and all earthly things that belong to heaven are comprehended in these two judgments" god deemeth us [looking] upon our nature-substance, which is ever kept one in him, whole and safe without end: and _this_ doom is [because] of his rightfulness [in the which it is made and kept]. and man judgeth [looking] upon our changeable sense-soul, which seemeth now one [thing], now other,--according as it taketh of the [higher or lower] parts,--and [is that which] showeth outward. and _this_ wisdom [of man's judgment] is _mingled_ [because of the diverse things it beholdeth]. for sometimes it is good and easy, and sometimes it is hard and grievous. and in as much as it is good and easy it belongeth to the rightfulness; and in as much as it is hard and grievous [by reason of the sin beheld, which sheweth in our sense-soul,] our good lord jesus reformeth it by [the working in our sense-soul of] mercy and grace through the virtue of his blessed passion, and so bringeth it to the rightfulness. and though these two [judgments] be thus accorded and oned, yet both shall be known in heaven without end. the first doom, which is of god's rightfulness, is [because] of his high endless life [in our substance]; and this is that fair sweet doom that was shewed in all the fair revelation, in which i saw him assign to us no manner of blame. but though this was sweet and delectable, yet in the beholding only of this, i could not be fully eased: and that was because of the doom of holy church, which i had afore understood and which was continually in my sight. and therefore by _this_ doom methought i understood that sinners are worthy sometime of blame and wrath; but these two could i not see in god; and therefore my desire was more than i can or may tell. for the higher doom was shewed by god himself in that same time, and therefore me behoved needs to take it; and the lower doom was learned me afore in holy church, and therefore i might in no way leave the lower doom. then was this my desire: that i might see in god in what manner that which the doom of holy church teacheth is true in his sight, and how it belongeth to me verily to know it; whereby the two dooms might both be saved, so as it were worshipful to god and right way to me. and to all this i had none other answer but a marvellous example of a lord and of a servant, as i shall tell after: and that full mistily shewed.[ ] and yet i stand desiring, and will unto my end, that i might by grace know these two dooms as it belongeth to me. for all heavenly, and all earthly things that belong to heaven, are comprehended in these two dooms. and the more understanding, by the gracious leading of the holy ghost, that we have of these two dooms, the more we shall see and know our failings. and ever the more that we see them, the more, of nature, by grace, we shall long to be fulfilled of endless joy and bliss. for we are made thereto, and our nature-substance is now blissful in god, and hath been since it was made, and shall be without end. [ ] chap. li. chapter xlvi "it is needful to see and to know that we are sinners: wherefore we deserve pain and wrath." "he is god: good, life, truth, love, peace: his clarity and his unity suffereth him not to be wroth" but our passing life that we have here in our sense-soul knoweth not what our self is. [and when we verily and clearly see and know what our self is][ ] then shall we verily and clearly see and know our lord god in fulness of joy. and therefore it behoveth needs to be that the nearer we be to our bliss, the more we shall long [after it]: and that both by nature and by grace. we may have knowing of our self in this life by continuant help and virtue of our high nature. in which knowing we may exercise and grow, by forwarding and speeding of mercy and grace; but we may never fully know our self until the last point: in which point this passing life and manner of pain and woe shall have an end. and therefore it belongeth properly to us, both by nature and by grace, to long and desire with all our mights to know our self in fulness of endless joy. and yet in all this time, from the beginning to the end, i had two manner of beholdings. the one was endless continuant love, with secureness of keeping, and blissful salvation,--for of this was all _the shewing_. the other was of the common teaching of holy church, in which i was afore informed and grounded--and with all my will having in use and understanding. and the beholding of _this_ went not from me: for by the shewing i was not stirred nor led therefrom in no manner of point, but i had therein teaching to love it and find it good[ ]: whereby i might, by the help of our lord and his grace, increase and rise to more heavenly knowing and higher loving. and thus in all the beholding methought it was needful to see and to know that we are sinners, and do many evils that we ought to leave, and leave many good deeds undone that we ought to do: wherefore we deserve pain and wrath. and notwithstanding all this, i saw soothfastly that our lord was never wroth, nor ever shall be. for he is god: good, life, truth, love, peace; his clarity[ ] and his unity suffereth him not to be wroth. for i saw truly that it is against the property of his might to be wroth, and against the property of his wisdom, and against the property of his goodness. god is the goodness that may not be wroth, for he is not [other] but goodness: our soul is oned to him, unchangeable goodness, and between god and our soul is neither wrath nor forgiveness in his sight. for our soul is so fully oned to god of his own goodness that between god and our soul may be right nought. and to this understanding was the soul led by love and drawn by might in every shewing: _that it is thus_ our good lord shewed, and _how it is thus in truth of his great goodness_. and he willeth that we desire to learn it--that is to say, as far as it belongeth to his creature to learn it. for all things that the simple soul[ ] understood, god willeth that they be shewed and [made] known. for the things that he will have privy, mightily and wisely himself he hideth them, for love. for i saw in the same shewing that much privity is hid, which may never be known until the time that god of his goodness hath made us worthy to see it; and therewith i am well-content, abiding our lord's will in this high marvel. and now i yield me to my mother, holy church, as a simple child oweth. [ ] so s. de cressy has it. there is evidently an omission in the ms. of part of this sentence. see lvi., lxxii. the dim sight of god comes before the dim sight of the self, but the clear sight of god comes after the clear sight of the self. [ ] "like it." [ ] cressy has: "he is peace; and his might, his wisdom, his charity, and his unity," etc. [ ] chap. ii. "a simple creature"; "the soul," xxiv., xiii., etc., and xxxii. p. . chapter xlvii "we fail oftentimes of the sight of him, and anon we fall into our self, and then find we no feeling of right,--nought but contrariness that is in our self" two things belong to our soul as duty: the one is that we reverently marvel, the other that we meekly suffer, ever enjoying in god. for he would have us understand that we shall in short time see clearly in himself all that we desire. and notwithstanding all this, i beheld and marvelled greatly: _what is the mercy and forgiveness of god?_ for by the teaching that i had afore, i understood that the mercy of god should be the forgiveness of his wrath after the time that we have sinned. for methought that to a soul whose meaning and desire is to love, the wrath of god was harder than any other pain, and therefore i took[ ] that the forgiveness of his wrath should be one of the principal points of his mercy. but howsoever i might behold and desire, i could in no wise see this point in all the shewing.[ ] but how i understood and saw of the work of mercy, i shall tell somewhat, as god will give me grace. i understood this: man is changeable in this life, and by frailty and overcoming falleth into sin: he is weak and unwise of himself, and also his will is overlaid. and in this time he is in tempest and in sorrow and woe; and the cause is blindness: for he seeth not god. for if he saw god continually, he should have no mischievous feeling, nor any manner of motion or yearning that serveth to sin.[ ] thus saw i, and felt in the same time; and methought that the sight and the feeling was high and plenteous and gracious in comparison with that which our common feeling is in this life; but yet i thought it was but small and low in comparison with the great desire that the soul hath to see god. for i felt in me five manner of workings, which be these: enjoying, mourning, desire, dread, and sure hope. enjoying: for god gave me understanding and knowing that it was himself that i saw; mourning: and that was for failing; desire: and that was i might see him ever more and more, understanding and knowing that we shall never have full rest till we see him verily and clearly in heaven; dread was: for it seemed to me in all that time that that sight should fail, and i be left to myself; sure hope was in the endless love: that i saw i should be kept by his mercy and brought to his bliss. and the joying in his sight with this sure hope of his merciful keeping made me to have feeling and comfort so that mourning and dread were not greatly painful. and yet in all this i beheld in the shewing of god that this manner of sight may not be continuant in this life,--and that for his own worship and for increase of our endless joy. and therefore we fail oftentimes of the sight of him, and anon we fall into our self, and then find we no feeling of right,--naught but contrariness that is in our self; and that of the elder root of our first sin,[ ] with all the sins that follow, of our contrivance. and in this we are in travail and tempest[ ] with feeling of sins, and of pain in many divers manners, spiritual and bodily, as it is known to us in this life. [ ] understood--took it. [ ] "but for nowte that i myte beholden and desyrin i could not se." [ ] "ne no manner steryng ne [or _ye_ = the] yernyng." [ ] _i.e._ contrariness, springing from the beginning of sin in the first fall of man. [ ] "traveylid and tempested." chapter xlviii "i beheld the property of mercy, and i beheld the property of grace: which have two manners of working in one love" but our good lord the holy ghost, which is endless life dwelling in our soul, full securely keepeth us; and worketh therein a peace and bringeth it to ease by grace, and accordeth it to god and maketh it pliant.[ ] and this is the mercy and the way that our lord continually leadeth us in as long as we be here in this life which is changeable. for i saw no wrath but on man's part; and that forgiveth he in us. for wrath is not else but a forwardness and a contrariness to peace and love; and either it cometh of failing of might, or of failing of wisdom, or of failing of goodness: which failing is not in god, but is on our part. for we by sin and wretchedness have in us a wretched and continuant contrariness to peace and to love. and that shewed he full often in his lovely regard of ruth and pity.[ ] for the ground of mercy is love, and the working of mercy is our keeping in love. and this was shewed in such manner that i could[ ] not have perceived of the part of mercy but as it were alone in love; that is to say, as to my sight. mercy is a sweet gracious working in love, mingled with plenteous pity: for mercy worketh in keeping us, and mercy worketh turning to us all things to good. mercy, by love, suffereth us to fail in measure and in as much as we fail, in so much we fall; and in as much as we fall, in so much we die: for it needs must be that we die in so much as we fail of the sight and feeling of god that is our life. our failing is dreadful, our falling is shameful, and our dying is sorrowful: but in all this the sweet eye of pity and love is lifted never off us, nor the working of mercy ceaseth.[ ] for i beheld the property of mercy, and i beheld the property of grace: which have two manners of working in one love. mercy is a pitiful property which belongeth to the motherhood in tender love; and grace is a worshipful property which belongeth to the royal lordship in the same love. mercy worketh: keeping, suffering, quickening, and healing; and all is tenderness of love. and grace worketh: raising, rewarding, endlessly overpassing that which our longing and our travail deserveth, spreading abroad and shewing the high plenteous largess[ ] of god's royal lordship in his marvellous courtesy; and this is of the abundance of love. for grace worketh our dreadful failing into plenteous, endless solace; and grace worketh our shameful falling into high, worshipful rising; and grace worketh our sorrowful dying into holy, blissful life. for i saw full surely that ever as our contrariness worketh to us here in earth pain, shame, and sorrow, right so, on the contrary wise, grace worketh to us in heaven solace, worship, and bliss; and overpassing. and so far forth, that when we come up and receive the sweet reward which grace hath wrought for us, then we shall thank and bless our lord, endlessly rejoicing that ever we suffered woe. and that shall be for a property of blessed love that we shall know in god which we could never have known without woe going before. and when i saw all this, it behoved me needs to grant that the mercy of god and the forgiveness is to slacken and waste _our_ wrath. [ ] "buxum" = ready to bend or obey. [ ] "lovely chere," loving look. see li., lxxi., etc. [ ] "i cowth not a perceyven of." [ ] "but in all this the swete eye of pite and love cumith never of us, ne the werkyng of mercy cesyth not." [ ] or largeness. chapter xlix "where our lord appeareth, peace is taken, and wrath hath no place." "immediately is the soul made at one with god when it is truly set at peace in itself" for this was an high marvel to the soul which was continually shewed in all the revelations, and was with great diligence beholden, that our lord god, anent himself may not forgive, for he may not be wroth: it were impossible. for this was shewed: that our life is all grounded and rooted in love, and without love we may not live; and therefore to the soul that of his special grace seeth so far into the high, marvellous goodness of god, and seeth that we are endlessly oned to him in love, it is the most impossible that may be, that god should be wroth. for wrath and friendship be two contraries. for he that wasteth and destroyeth our wrath and maketh us meek and mild,--it behoveth needs to be that he [himself] be ever one in love, meek and mild: which is contrary to wrath. for i saw full surely that where our lord appeareth, peace is taken and wrath hath no place. for i saw no manner of wrath in god, neither for short time nor for long;--for in sooth, as to my sight, if god might be wroth for an instant,[ ] we should never have life nor place nor being. for as verily as we have our being of the endless might of god and of the endless wisdom and of the endless goodness, so verily we have our keeping in the endless might of god, in the endless wisdom, and in the endless goodness. for though we feel in ourselves, [frail] wretches, debates and strifes, yet are we all-mannerful enclosed in the mildness of god and in his meekness, in his benignity and in his graciousness.[ ] for i saw full surely that all our endless friendship, our place, our life and our being, is in god. for that same endless goodness that keepeth us when we sin, that we perish not, the same endless goodness continually treateth in us a peace against our wrath and our contrarious falling, and maketh us to see our need with a true dread, and mightily to seek unto god to have forgiveness, with a gracious desire of our salvation. and though we, by the wrath and the contrariness that is in us, be now in tribulation, distress, and woe, as falleth to our blindness and frailty, yet are we _securely_ safe by the merciful keeping of god, that we perish not. but we are not _blissfully_ safe, in having of our endless joy, till we be all in peace and in love: that is to say, full pleased with god and with all his works, and with all his judgments, and loving and peaceable with our self and with our even-christians and with all that god loveth, as love beseemeth.[ ] and this doeth god's goodness in us. thus saw i that god is our very peace, and he is our sure keeper when we are ourselves in unpeace, and he continually worketh to bring us into endless peace. and thus when we, by the working of mercy and grace, be made meek and mild, we are fully safe; suddenly is the soul oned to god when it is truly peaced in itself: for in him is found no wrath. and thus i saw when we are all in peace and in love, we find no contrariness, nor no manner of letting through that contrariness which is now in us; [nay], our lord of his goodness maketh it to us full profitable. for that contrariness is cause of our tribulations and all our woe, and our lord jesus taketh them and sendeth them up to heaven, and there are they made more sweet and delectable than heart may think or tongue may tell. and when we come thither we shall find them ready, all turned into very fair and endless worships. thus is god our steadfast ground: and he shall be our full bliss and make us unchangeable, as he is, when we are there. [ ] "a touch." [ ] "buxumhede." [ ] "liketh." chapter l "the blame of our sin continually hangeth upon us." "in the sight of god the soul that shall be saved was never dead, nor ever shall be dead" and in this life mercy and forgiveness is our way and evermore leadeth us to grace. and by the tempest and the sorrow that we fall into on our part, we be often dead as to man's doom in earth; but in the sight of god the soul that shall be saved was never dead, nor ever shall be. but yet here i wondered and marvelled with all the diligence of my soul, saying thus within me: _good lord, i see thee that art very truth; and i know in truth[ ] that we sin grievously every day and be much blameworthy; and i may neither leave the knowing of thy truth,[ ] nor do i see thee shew to us any manner of blame. how may this be?_ for i knew by the common teaching of holy church and by mine own feeling, that the blame of our sin continually hangeth upon us, from the first man unto the time that we come up unto heaven: then was this my marvel that i saw our lord god shewing to us no more blame than if we were as clean and as holy as angels be in heaven. and between these two contraries my reason was greatly travailed through my blindness, and could have no rest for dread that his blessed presence should pass from my sight and i be left in unknowing [of] how he beholdeth us in our sin. for either [it] behoved me to see in god that sin was all done away, or else me behoved to see in god how he seeth it, whereby i might truly know how it belongeth to me to see sin, and the manner of our blame. my longing endured, him continually beholding;--and yet i could have no patience for great straits[ ] and perplexity, thinking: _if i take it thus that we be no sinners and not blameworthy, it seemeth as i should err and fail of knowing of this truth[ ]; and if it be so that we be sinners and blameworthy,--good lord, how may it then be that i cannot see this true thing[ ] in thee, which art my god, my maker, in whom i desire to see all truths?_[ ] for three points make me hardy to ask it. the first is, because it is so low a thing: for if it were an high thing i should be a-dread. the second is, that it is so common: for if it were special and privy, also i should be a-dread. the third is, that it needeth me to know it (as methinketh) if i shall live here for knowing of good and evil, whereby i may, by reason and grace, the more dispart them asunder, and love goodness and hate evil, as holy church teacheth. i cried inwardly, with all my might seeking unto god for help, saying thus: _ah! lord jesus, king of bliss, how shall i be eased? who shall teach me and tell me that [thing] me needeth to know, if i may not at this time see it in thee?_ [ ] "sothly." [ ] "sothe." [ ] "awer," liii. note . [ ] "soth." [ ] "sothnes." [ ] "trueths." chapter li "he is the head, and we be his members." "therefore our father nor may nor will more blame assign to us than to his own son, precious and worthy christ" and then our courteous lord answered in shewing full mistily a wonderful example of a lord that hath a servant: and he gave me sight to my understanding of both. which sight was shewed doubly in the lord and doubly in the servant: the one part was shewed spiritually in bodily likeness, and the other part was shewed more spiritually, without bodily likeness. for the first [sight], thus, i saw two persons in bodily likeness: that is to say, a lord and a servant; and therewith god gave me spiritual understanding. the lord sitteth stately in rest and in peace; the servant standeth by afore his lord reverently, ready to do his lord's will. the lord looketh upon his servant full lovingly and sweetly, and meekly he sendeth him to a certain place to do his will. the servant not only he goeth, but suddenly he starteth, and runneth in great haste, for love to do his lord's will. and anon he falleth into a slade,[ ] and taketh full great hurt. and then he groaneth and moaneth and waileth and struggleth, but he neither may rise nor help himself by no manner of way. and of all this the most mischief[ ] that i saw him in, was failing of comfort: for he could not turn his face to look upon his loving lord, which was to him full near,--in whom is full comfort;--but as a man that was feeble and unwise for the time, he turned his mind[ ] to his feeling and endured in woe. in which woe he suffered seven great pains. the first was the sore bruising that he took in his falling, which was to him feelable pain; the second was the heaviness of his body; the third was feebleness following from these two; the fourth, that he was blinded in his reason and stunned in his mind, so far forth that almost he had forgotten his own love; the fifth was that he might not rise; the sixth was most marvellous to me, and that was that he lay all alone: i looked all about and beheld, and far nor near, high nor low, i saw to him no help; the seventh was that the place which he lay on was a long, hard, and grievous [place]. i marvelled how this servant might meekly suffer there all this woe, and i beheld with carefulness to learn if i could perceive in him any fault, or if the lord should assign to him any blame. and in sooth there was none seen: for only his goodwill and his great desire was cause of his falling; and he was unlothful, and as good inwardly as when he stood afore his lord, ready to do his will. and right thus continually his loving lord full tenderly beholdeth him. but now with a _double_ manner of regard: one outward, full meekly and mildly, with great ruth and pity,--and this was of the first [sight], another _inward,_ more spiritually,--and this was shewed with a leading of mine understanding into the lord, [in the] which i saw him highly rejoicing for the worshipful restoring that he will and shall bring his servant to by his plenteous grace; and this was of that other shewing. and now [was] my understanding led again into the first [sight]; both keeping in mind. then saith this courteous lord in his meaning: _lo, lo, my loved servant, what harm and distress he hath taken in my service for my love,--yea, and for his goodwill. is it not fitting that i award him [for] his affright and his dread, his hurt and his maim and all his woe? and not only this, but falleth it not to me to give a gift that [shall] be better to him, and more worshipful, than his own wholeness should have been?--or else methinketh i should do him no grace._ and in this an inward spiritual shewing of the lord's meaning descended into my soul: in which i saw that it behoveth needs to be, by virtue of his great [goodness] and his own worship, that his dearworthy servant, which he loved so much, should be verily and blissfully rewarded, above that he should have been if he had not fallen. yea, and so far forth, that his falling and his woe, that he hath taken thereby, shall be turned into high and overpassing worship and endless bliss. and at this point the shewing of the example vanished, and our good lord led forth mine understanding in sight and in shewing of the revelation to the end. but notwithstanding all this forth-leading, the marvelling over the example went never from me: for methought it was given me for an answer to my desire, and yet could i not take therein full understanding to mine ease at that time. for in the servant that was shewed for adam, as i shall tell, i saw many diverse properties that might in no manner of way be assigned[ ] to single adam. and thus in that time i stood for much part in unknowing: for the full understanding of this marvellous example was not given me in that time. in which mighty example three properties of the revelation be yet greatly hid; and notwithstanding this [further forthleading], i saw and understood that every shewing is full of secret things [left hid]. and therefore me behoveth now to tell three properties in which i am somewhat eased. the first is the beginning of teaching that i understood therein, in the same time; the second is the inward teaching that i have understood therein afterward; the third, all the whole revelation from the beginning to the end (that is to say of this book) which our lord god of his goodness bringeth oftentimes freely to the sight of mine understanding. and these three are so oned, as to my understanding, that i cannot, nor may, dispart them. and by these three, as one, i have teaching whereby i ought to believe and trust in our lord god, that of the same goodness of which he shewed it, and for the same end, right so, of the same goodness and for the same end he shall declare it to us when it is his will. for, twenty years after the time of the shewing, save three months, i had teaching inwardly, as i shall tell: _it belongeth to thee to take heed to all the properties and conditions that were shewed in the example, though thou think that they be misty and indifferent[ ] to thy sight_. i assented willingly, with great desire, and inwardly [beheld] with heedfulness[ ] all the points and properties that were shewed in the same time, as far forth as my wits and understanding would serve: beginning my beholding at the lord and at the servant, and the manner of sitting of the lord, and the place that he sat on, and the colour of his clothing and the manner of shape, and his countenance without, and his nobleness and his goodness within; at the manner of standing of the servant, and the place where, and how; at his manner of clothing, the colour and the shape; at his outward having and at his inward goodness and his unloathfulness. the lord that sat stately in rest and in peace, i understood that he is god. the servant that stood afore the lord, i understood that it was shewed for adam: that is to say, one man was shewed, that time, and his falling, to make it thereby understood how god beholdeth all-man and his falling. for in the sight of god all man is one man, and one man is all man. this man was hurt in his might and made full feeble; and he was stunned in his understanding so that he [was] turned from the beholding of his lord. but his will was kept whole in god's sight;--for his will i saw our lord commend and approve. but himself was letted and blinded from the knowing of this will; and this is to him great sorrow and grievous distress: for neither doth he see clearly his loving lord, which is to him full meek and mild, nor doth he see truly what himself is in the sight of his loving lord. and well i wot when these two are wisely and truly seen, we shall get rest and peace here in part, and the fulness of the bliss of heaven, by his plenteous grace. and this was a beginning of teaching which i saw in the same time, whereby i might come to know in what manner he beholdeth us in our sin. and then i saw that only pain blameth and punisheth, and our courteous lord comforteth and sorroweth; and ever he is to the soul in glad cheer, loving, and longing to bring us to his bliss. the place that the lord sat on was simple, on the earth, barren and desert, alone in wilderness; his clothing was ample and full seemly, as falleth to a lord; the colour of his cloth was blue as azure, most sad and fair, his cheer was merciful; the colour of his face was fair-brown,--with full seemly features; his eyes were black, most fair and seemly, shewing [_outward_] full of lovely _pity_, and [shewing], _within_ him, an high regard,[ ] long and broad, all full of endless heavens. and the lovely looking wherewith he looked upon his servant continually,--and especially in his falling,--methought it might melt our hearts for love and burst them in two for joy. the fair looking shewed [itself] of a seemly mingledness which was marvellous to behold: the one [part] was ruth and pity, the other was joy and bliss. the joy and bliss passeth as far ruth and pity as heaven is above earth: the pity was earthly and the bliss was heavenly: the ruth and pity of the father was [in regard] of the falling of adam, which is his most loved creature; the joy and bliss was [in regard] of his dearworthy son, which is even with the father. the merciful beholding of his countenance[ ] of love fulfilled all earth and descended down with adam into hell, with which continuant pity adam was kept from endless death. and thus mercy and pity dwelleth with mankind unto the time we come up into heaven. but man is blinded in this life and therefore we may not see our father, god, as he is. and what time that he of his goodness willeth to shew himself to man, he sheweth himself homely, as man. notwithstanding, i reason, in verity[ ] we ought to know and believe that the father is not man. but his sitting on the earth barren and desert, is to signify this:--he made man's soul to be his own city and his dwelling-place: which is most pleasing to him of all his works. and what time that man was fallen into sorrow and pain, he was not all seemly to serve in that noble office; and therefore our lord father would prepare himself no other place, but would sit upon the earth abiding mankind, which is mingled with earth, till what time by his grace his dearworthy son had brought again his city into the noble fairness with his hard travail. the blueness of the clothing betokeneth his steadfastness; the brownness of his fair face, with the seemly blackness of the eyes, was most accordant to shew his holy soberness. the length and breadth of his garments, which were fair, flaming about, betokeneth that he hath, beclosed in him, all heavens, and all joy and bliss:[ ] and this was shewed in a touch [of time], where i have said: _mine understanding was led into the lord_; in which [inward shewing] i saw him highly _rejoice_ for the worshipful restoring that he will and shall bring his servant to by his plenteous grace. and yet i marvelled, beholding the lord and the servant aforesaid. i saw the lord sit stately, and the servant standing reverently afore his lord. in which servant there is double understanding, one _without_, another _within. outwardly_:--he was clad simply, as a labourer which were got ready for his toil;[ ] and he stood full near the lord--not evenly in front[ ] of him, but in part to one side, on the left. his clothing was a white kirtle, single, old, and all defaced, dyed with sweat of his body, strait-fitting to him, and short--as it were an handful beneath the knee; [thread]bare, seeming as it should soon be worn out, ready to be ragged and rent. and of this i marvelled greatly, thinking: this is now an unseemly clothing for the servant that is so greatly loved to stand in afore so worshipful a lord. and _inwardly_ in him was shewed a ground of love: which love that he had to the lord was even-like[ ] to the love that the lord had to him. the wisdom of the servant saw inwardly that there was one thing to do which should be to the worship of the lord. and the servant, for love, having no regard to himself nor to nothing that might befall him, hastily he started and ran at the sending of his lord, to do that thing which was his will and his worship. for it seemed by his outward clothing as he had been a continuant labourer of long time, and by the _inward sight_ that i had both of the lord and the servant it seemed that he was a[ ] new [one], that is to say, new beginning to travail: which servant was never sent out afore. there was a treasure in the earth which the lord loved. i marvelled and thought what it might be, and i was answered in mine understanding: _it is a food which is delectable and pleasant to the lord_. for i saw the lord sit as a man, and i saw neither meat nor drink wherewith to serve him. this was one marvel. another marvel was that this majestic lord had no servant but one, and him he sent out. i beheld, thinking what manner of labour it might be that the servant should do. and then i understood that he should do the greatest labour and hardest travail: that is, he should be a gardener, delve and dyke, toil and sweat, and turn the earth upside-down, and seek the deepness, and water the plants in time. and in this he should continue his travail and make sweet floods to run, and noble and plenteous fruits to spring, which he should bring afore the lord to serve him therewith to his desire. and he should never turn again till he had prepared this food all ready as he knew that it pleased the lord. and then he should take this food, with the drink in the food, and bear it full worshipfully afore the lord. and all this time the lord should sit in the same place, abiding his servant whom he sent out. and yet i marvelled from whence the servant came. for i saw in the lord that he hath within himself endless life, and all manner of goodness, save that treasure that was in the earth. and [also] _that_ [treasure] was grounded in the lord in marvellous deepness of endless love, but it was not all to his worship till the servant had thus nobly prepared it, and brought it before him in himself present. and without the lord was nothing but wilderness. and i understood not all what this example meant, and therefore i marvelled whence the servant came. in the servant is comprehended the second person in the trinity; and in the servant is comprehended adam: that is to say, all-man. and therefore when i say the _son_, it meaneth the godhead which is even with the father; and when i say the _servant_, it meaneth christ's manhood, which is rightful adam. by the nearness of the servant is understood the son, and by the standing on the left side is understood adam. the lord is the father, god; the servant is the son, christ jesus; the holy ghost is even[ ] love which is in them both. when adam fell, god's son fell: because of the rightful oneing which had been made in heaven, god's son might not [be disparted] from adam. (for by adam i understand all-man.) adam fell from life to death, into the deep[ ] of this wretched world, and after that into hell: god's son fell with adam, into the deep[ ] of the maiden's womb, who was the fairest daughter of adam; and for this end: to excuse adam from blame in heaven and in earth; and mightily he fetched him out of hell. by the wisdom and goodness that was in the servant is understood god's son; by the poor clothing as a labourer standing near the left side, is understood the manhood and adam, with all the scathe[ ] and feebleness that followeth. for in all this our good lord shewed his own son and adam but _one_ man. the virtue and the goodness that we have is of jesus christ, the feebleness and the blindness that we have is of adam: which two were shewed in the servant. and thus hath our good lord jesus taken upon him all our blame, and therefore our father nor may nor will more blame assign to us than to his own son, dearworthy christ. thus was he, the servant, afore his coming into earth standing ready afore the father in purpose, till what time he would send him to do that worshipful deed by which mankind was brought again into heaven;--that is to say, notwithstanding that he is god, even with the father as anent the godhead. but in his foreseeing purpose that he would be man, to save man in fulfilling of his father's will, so he stood afore his father as a servant, willingly[ ] taking upon him all our charge. and then he started full readily at the father's will, and anon he fell full low, into the maiden's womb, having no regard to himself nor to his hard pains. the white kirtle is the flesh; the singleness is that there was right nought atwix the godhead and manhood; the straitness is poverty; the eld is of adam's wearing; the defacing, of sweat of adam's travail; the shortness sheweth the servant's labour. and thus i saw the son saying in his meaning[ ]: _lo! my dear father, i stand before thee in adam's kirtle, all ready to start and to run: i would be in the earth to do thy worship when it is thy will to send me. how long shall i desire?_ full soothfastly wist the son when it would be the father's will and how long he should desire: that is to say, [he wist it] anent the godhead: for he is the wisdom of the father; wherefore this question was shewed with understanding of the _manhood_ of christ. for all mankind that shall be saved by the sweet incarnation and blissful passion of christ, all is the manhood of christ: for he is the head and we be his members. to which members the day and the time is unknown when every passing woe and sorrow shall have an end, and the everlasting joy and bliss shall be fulfilled; which day and time for to see, all the company of heaven longeth. and all that shall be under heaven that shall come thither, their way is by longing and desire. which desire and longing was shewed in the servant's standing afore the lord,--or else thus in the son's standing afore the father in adam's kirtle. for the longing[ ] and desire of all mankind that shall be saved appeared in jesus: for jesus is all that shall be saved, and all that shall be saved is jesus. and all of the charity of god; with obedience, meekness, and patience, and virtues that belong to us. also in this marvellous example i have teaching with me as it were the beginning of an a.b.c., whereby i have some understanding of our lord's meaning. for the secret things of the revelation be hid therein;--notwithstanding that _all_ the shewings are full of secret things. the _sitting_ of the father betokeneth his godhead: that is to say, by shewing of rest and peace: for in the godhead may be no travail.[ ] and that he shewed himself as _lord_, betokeneth his [governance] to our manhood. the _standing_ of the servant betokeneth travail; _on one side_, and on the _left_, betokeneth that he was not all worthy to stand even-right afore the lord; his _starting_ was the godhead, and the _running_ was the manhood: for the godhead started from the father into the maiden's womb, falling into the taking of our kind. and in this falling he took great sore: the _sore_ that he took was our flesh, in which he had also swiftly feeling of deadly pains. that he stood _adread_ before the lord and not even-right, betokeneth that his clothing was not seemly[ ] to stand in even-right afore the lord, nor _that_ might not, nor should not, be his office while he was a labourer; nor also he might not sit in rest and peace with the lord till he had won his peace rightfully with his hard travail; and that he stood by the _left_ side [betokeneth] that the father left his own son, willingly,[ ] in the manhood to suffer all man's pains, without sparing of him. by that _his kirtle was in point to be ragged and rent_, is understood the blows, the scourgings, the thorns and the nails, the drawing and the dragging, his tender flesh rending. (as i saw in some part [before] how the flesh was rent from the skull, falling in pieces until the time when the bleeding ceased, and then it began to dry again, cleaving to the bone.) and by the _struggling and writhing, groaning and moaning,_ is understood that he might never rise almightily from the time that he was fallen into the maiden's womb, till his body was slain and dead, he yielding the soul into the father's hands with all mankind for whom he was sent. and at this point he began first to shew his might: for he went into hell, and when he was there he raised up the great root out of the deep deepness which rightfully was knit to him in high heaven. the body was in the grave till easter-morrow, and from that time he lay nevermore. for then was rightfully ended the struggling and the writhing, the groaning and the moaning. and our foul deadly flesh that god's son took on him, which was adam's old kirtle, strait, [worn]-bare, and short, was then by our saviour made fair, new, white and bright and of endless cleanness; loose and long[ ]; fairer and richer than was then the clothing which [before] i saw on the father: for that clothing was blue, but christ's clothing is [coloured] now of a fair seemly medlour, which is so marvellous that i can it not describe: for it is all of very worships. now sitteth not the son on earth in wilderness, but he sitteth in his noblest seat, which he made in heaven most to his pleasing. now standeth not the son afore the father as a servant afore the lord dreadingly, meanly clad, in part naked; but he standeth afore the father even-right, richly clad in blissful largeness, with a crown upon his head of precious richness. for it was shewed that _we be his crown_: which crown is the joy of the father, the worship of the son, the satisfying of the holy ghost, and endless marvellous bliss to all that be in heaven. now standeth not the son afore the father on the left side, as a labourer, but he sitteth on his father's right hand, in endless rest and peace.[ ] (but it is not meant that the son sitteth on the right hand, side by side, as one man sitteth by another in this life,--for there is no such sitting, as to my sight, in the trinity,--but he sitteth on his father's right hand,--that is to say: in the highest nobleness of the father's joys.) now is the spouse, god's son, in peace with his loved wife, which is the fair maiden of endless joy. now sitteth the son, very god and man, in his city in rest and peace: which [city] his father hath adight to him of his endless purpose; and the father in the son; and the holy ghost in the father and in the son. [ ] _i.e._ a steep hollow place; a ravine. [ ] _i.e._ injury, harm. [ ] "entended." [ ] "aret" = reckoned. [ ] _i.e._ not of definite purport, indistinct. [ ] "avisement." [ ] ms. "within him an _heyward_ long and brode, all full of endless hevyns." cressy and collins transcribe this word without explanation, but give "heavenliness" for "heavens." it seems most likely that "hey" has been written as if affixed to "ward" (_i.e. "regard," "deeming,"_ or _"reward"_), or else to _"reward,"_ meaning, as usual, _regard_ ("beholding"). see pp. and . if "_an heyward_"--"long and brode all full of endless hevyns,"--were to be rendered as "an high reward," revealed for the future along with, though less clearly than, the divine pity for the pains of the present, reference might be made to revelation ix. pp. , : "it is a joy, a bliss, an endless satisfying to me that ever suffered passion for thee." ... "in this feeling mine understanding was lifted up into heaven: and there i saw three heavens"; and to rev. x. p. : "then with a glad cheer our lord looked into his side and beheld, rejoicing. with his sweet looking he led forth the understanding of his creature by the same wound into his side within. and then he shewed a fair delectable place, and large enough for all mankind that shall be saved to rest in peace and in love." but "regard" (scope of true, continuing, divine sight, insight, all-comprehending sight) seems more likely to be the true rendering. "long and broad" go strangely with the word, but on p. the _length and breadth_ of the garments is interpreted immediately after the colour of the eyes, and is said to betoken that "he hath in him, all heavens, and all joy and bliss," and indeed these words but fill out the idea of the more frequently used "high" to signify the "enclosing" of "endless heavens:" that sphere of "fulness" which is infinite. with this passage may be compared one below, on p. : "the merciful beholding of his loving cheer fulfilled all earth and descended down with adam into hell, ... and thus mercy and pity dwelleth with mankind unto the time we come up into heaven." the other, the inward, the _high_ beholding or regard it not said to "fill" heaven, but to be "full of" endless heavens. so elsewhere it is said that in our _sense-soul_, the lower part of human nature, _god dwells_, but that our _substance_, the higher part, _dwells in god_. (the regard of mercy and pity is with the sense-soul; the high regard of joy and bliss is with the substance.) p. , chap. lv.: "i saw that our substance is in god, and also i saw that in our sense-soul god is." lvi. p. :" the worshipful city that our lord jesus sitteth in, it is our sense-part, in which he is enclosed; and our nature-substance is beclosed in jesus, with the blessed soul of christ sitting in rest in the godhead." [ ] "lofly cher." [ ] "i reson sothly we owen." [ ] see p. , the "high reward." [ ] "which wer disposed to travel." [ ] "even fornempts" = strait opposite. [ ] _i.e._ equal (ms. "even like"). [ ] s. de cressy: "anaved"; ms. "anew." [ ] _i.e._ equal--see p. . "all of the charity of god," the mutual love that also embraces created souls, p. . [ ] "the slade." [ ] "the slade." [ ] "mischief." [ ] "wilfully" = voluntarily, of his own will as god. [ ] purpose, intent, thought or speech. [ ] "langor." [ ] _i.e._ painful toil. "he sitteth ... in peace and rest. and the godhead ruleth and careth for heaven and earth and all that is" (lxvii.). [ ] "honest." [ ] "wilfully." [ ] "wyde and syde" = wide and long. [ ] but see also xxxix. p. , lxxx. p. . chapter lii "we have now matter of mourning: for our sin is cause of christ's pains; and we have, lastingly, matter of joy: for endless love made him to suffer" and thus i saw that god rejoiceth that he is our father, and god rejoiceth that he is our mother, and god rejoiceth that he is very spouse and our soul is his loved wife. and christ rejoiceth that he is our brother, and jesus rejoiceth that he is our saviour. these are five high joys, as i understand, in which he willeth that we enjoy; him praising, him thanking, him loving, him endlessly blessing. all that shall be saved, we have in us, for the time of this life, a marvellous mingling[ ] both of weal and woe: we have in us our lord jesus uprisen, we have in us the wretchedness and the mischief of adam's falling, dying. by christ we are steadfastly kept, and by his grace touching us we are raised into sure trust of salvation. and by adam's falling we are so broken, in our feeling, in diverse manners by sins and by sundry pains, in which we are made dark, that scarsely we can take any comfort. but in our intent[ ] we abide in god, and faithfully trust to have mercy and grace; and this is his own working in us. and of his goodness he openeth the eye of our understanding, by which we have sight, sometime more and sometime less, according as god giveth ability to receive. and now we are raised into the one, and now we are suffered to fall into the other. and thus is this medley so marvellous in us that scarsely we know of our self or of our even-christian in what way we stand, for the marvellousness of this sundry feeling. but that same holy assent, _that_ we assent to god when we feel him, truly setting our will to be with him, with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our might. and then we hate and despise our evil stirrings and all that might be occasion of sin, spiritual and bodily.[ ] and yet nevertheless when this sweetness is hid, we fall again into blindness, and so into woe and tribulation in diverse manners. but then is this our comfort, that we _know in our faith_ that by virtue of christ which is our keeper, we assent never thereto, but we groan there-against, and dure on, in pain and woe, praying, unto that time that he sheweth him again to us. and thus we stand in this medley all the days of our life. but he willeth that we trust that he is lastingly with as. and that in three manner.--he is with us in heaven, very man, in his own person, us updrawing; and that was shewed in [the shewing of] the spiritual thirst. and he is with us in earth, us leading; and that was shewed in the third [shewing], where i saw god in a point. and he is with us in our soul, endlessly dwelling, us ruling and keeping; and that was shewed in the sixteenth [shewing], as i shall tell. and thus in the servant was shewed the scathe and blindness of adam's falling; and in the servant was shewed the wisdom and goodness of god's son. and in the lord was shewed the ruth and pity of adam's woe, and in the lord was shewed the high nobility and the endless worship that mankind is come to by the virtue of the passion and death of his dearworthy son. and therefore mightily he joyeth in his falling for the high raising and fulness of bliss that mankind is come to, overpassing that we should have had if he had not fallen.--and thus to see this overpassing nobleness was mine understanding led into god in the same time that i saw the servant fall. and thus we have, now, matter of mourning: for our sin is cause of christ's pains; and we have, lastingly, matter of joy: for endless love made him to suffer. and therefore the creature that seeth and feeleth the working of love by grace, hateth nought but sin: for of all things, to my sight, love and hate are [the] hardest and most unmeasureable contraries. and notwithstanding all this, i saw and understood in our lord's meaning that we may not in this life keep us from sin as wholly in full cleanness as we shall be in heaven. but we may well by grace keep us from the sins which would lead us to endless pains, as holy church teacheth us; and eschew venial [ones] reasonably up to our might. and if we by our blindness and our wretchedness any time fall, we should readily rise, knowing the sweet touching of grace, and with all our will amend us upon the teaching of holy church, according as the sin is grievous, and go forthwith to god in love; and neither, on the one side, fall over low, inclining to despair, nor, on the other side, be over-reckless, as if we made no matter of it[ ]; but nakedly acknowledge our feebleness, finding that we may not stand a twinkling of an eye but by keeping of grace, and reverently cleave to god, on him only trusting. for after one wise is the beholding by[ ] god, and after another wise is the beholding by[ ] man. for it belongeth to man meekly to accuse himself, and it belongeth to the proper goodness of our lord god courteously to excuse man. and these be two parts that were shewed in the double manner of regard with which the lord beheld the falling of his loved servant. the one was shewed outward, very meekly and mildly, with great ruth and pity; and that of endless love. and right thus willeth our lord that we accuse our self, earnestly and truly seeing and knowing our falling and all the harms that come thereof; seeing and learning[ ] that we can never restore it; and therewith that we earnestly and truly see and know his everlasting love that he hath to us, and his plenteous mercy. and thus graciously to see and know both together is the meek accusing that our lord asketh of us, and himself worketh it where it is. and this is the lower part of man's life, and it was shewed in the [lord's] _outward_ manner of regard. in which shewing i saw _two_ parts: the one is the rueful falling of man, the other is the worshipful satisfaction[ ] that our lord hath made for man. the other manner of regard was shewed _inward_: and that was more highly and all [fully] _one_.[ ] for the life and the virtue that we have in the lower part is of the higher, and it cometh down to us [from out] of the natural love of the [high] self, by [the working of] grace. atwix [the life of] the one and [the life of] the other there is right nought: for it is all one love. which one blessed love hath now, in us, double working: for in the lower part are pains and passions, mercies and forgiveness, and such other that are profitable; but in the higher part are none of these, but all one high love and marvellous joy: in[ ] which joy all pains are highly restored. and in this [time] our lord showed not only our excusing[ ] [from blame, in his beholding of our higher part], but the worshipful nobility that he shall bring us to [by the working of grace in our lower part], turning all our blame [that is therein, from our falling] into endless worship [when we be oned to the high self above].[ ] [ ] "medlour," "medle." [ ] "menyng." [ ] "and thus is this medle so mervelous in us that onethys we knowen of our selfe or of our evyn cristen in what way we stonden for the marveloushede of this sundry felyng. but that ilke holy assent that we assenten to god when we feel hym truly willand to be with him with al our herte, with al our soule and with al our myte, and than we haten and dispisen our evil sterings and al that myte be occasion of synne gostly and bodily." [ ] "gove no fors" = gave it no force. [ ] "of." [ ] "of." [ ] "witand" = witting. [ ] "asseth." [ ] "and al on"--perhaps for _all is one_. [ ] "in" = _in, into,_ or _unto_. [ ] _i.e. exculpating_--as in romans ii. . [ ] "man,--seeing he is not a simple nature--in one aspect of his being, which is the better, and that i may speak more openly what i ought to speak, his very self, is immortal; but on the other side, which is weak and fallen, and which alone is known to those who have no faith except in sensible things, he is obnoxious to mortality and mutability."--from the _didascolon_ of hugo of st victor, as quoted in f. d. maurice's _mediæval philosophy_, p. . chapter liii "in every soul that shall be saved is a godly will that never assented to sin, nor ever shall." "ere that he made us he loved us, and when we were made we loved him" and i saw that he willeth that we understand he taketh not harder the falling of any creature that shall be saved than he took the falling of adam, which, we know, was endlessly loved and securely kept in the time of all his need, and now is blissfully restored in high overpassing joy. for our lord is so good, so gentle, and so courteous, that he may never assign default [in those] in whom he shall ever be blessed and praised. and in this that i have now told was my desire in part answered, and my great difficulty[ ] some deal eased, by the lovely, gracious shewing of our good lord. in which shewing i saw and understood full surely that in every soul that shall be saved is a godly will that never assented to sin, nor ever shall: which will is so good that it may never will evil, but evermore continually it willeth good; and worketh good in the sight of god. therefore our lord willeth that we know this in the faith and the belief; and especially that we have all this blessed will whole and safe in our lord jesus christ. for that same kind[ ] that heaven shall be filled with behoveth needs, of god's rightfulness, so to have been knit and oned to him, that therein was kept a substance which might never, nor should, be parted from him; and _that_ through his own good will in his endless foreseeing purpose. but notwithstanding this rightful knitting and this endless oneing, yet the redemption and the again-buying of mankind is needful and speedful in everything, as it is done for the same intent and to the same end that holy church in our faith us teacheth. for i saw that god _began_ never to love mankind: for right the same that mankind shall be in endless bliss, fulfilling the joy of god as anent his works, right so the same, mankind hath been in the foresight of god: known and loved from without beginning in his[ ] rightful intent. by the endless assent of the full accord of all the trinity, the mid-person willed to be ground and head of this fair kind: out of whom we be all come, in whom we be all enclosed, into whom we shall all wend,[ ] in him finding our full heaven in everlasting joy, by the foreseeing purpose of all the blessed trinity from without beginning. for ere that he made us he loved us, and when we were made we loved him. and this is a love that is _made_, [to our kindly substance], [by virtue] of the kindly substantial _goodness_ of the holy ghost; mighty, in reason, [by virtue] of the _might_ of the father; and wise, in mind, [by virtue] of the _wisdom_ of the son. and thus is man's soul made by god and in the same point knit to god. and thus i understand that man's soul is made of nought: that is to say, it is made, but of nought that is made. and thus:--when god should make man's body he took the clay of earth, which is a matter mingled and gathered of all bodily things; and thereof he made man's body. but to the making of man's soul he would take right nought, but made it. and thus is the nature-made rightfully oned to the maker, which is substantial nature not-made: that is, god. and therefore it is that there may nor shall be right nought atwix god and man's soul. and in this endless love man's soul is kept whole, as the matter of the revelations signifieth and sheweth: in which endless love we be led and kept of god and never shall be lost. for he willeth we[ ] be aware that our soul is a life, which life of his goodness and his grace shall last in heaven without end, him loving, him thanking, him praising. and right the same that we shall be without end, the same we were treasured in god and hid, known and loved from without beginning. wherefore he would have us understand that the noblest thing that ever he made is mankind: and the fullest substance and the highest virtue is the blessed soul of christ. and furthermore he would have us understand that his[ ] dear worthy soul [of manhood] was preciously knit to him in the making [by him of manhood's substantial nature] which knot is so subtle and so mighty that (it)[ ]--[man's soul]--is oned into god: in which oneing it is made endlessly holy. furthermore he would have us know that all the souls that shall be saved in heaven without end, are knit and oned in this oneing and made holy in this holiness. [ ] "awer" = awe, travail of perplexity, dilemma--see l. note . [ ] man's nature. [ ] or (it may be): "in his rightful intent ... the mid-person willed...." [ ] "wynden." [ ] "wetyn" = wit. [ ] s. de cressy has "this "; the word in the ms. is more like "his." [ ] the pronoun "it" given by s. de cressy is omitted in the ms. the meaning is, perhaps, that the manhood-substance, or soul of christ, was in its making, by the second person in the trinity, so united to himself that man's substance and each man's soul (in salvation), being one with it, are one with god the son. see li. p. . chapter liv "faith is nought else but a right understanding, with true belief and sure trust, of our being: that we are in god, and god is in us: whom we see not" and because of this great, endless love that god hath to all mankind, he maketh no disparting in love between the blessed soul of christ and the least soul that shall be saved. for it is full easy to believe and to trust that the dwelling of the blessed soul of christ is full high in the glorious godhead, and verily, as i understand in our lord's signifying, where the blessed soul of christ is, there is the substance of all the souls that shall be saved by christ. highly ought we to rejoice that god dwelleth in our soul, and much more highly ought we to rejoice that our soul dwelleth in god. our soul is _made_ to be god's dwelling-place; and the dwelling-place of the soul is god, which is _unmade_. and high understanding it is, inwardly to see and know that god, which is our maker, dwelleth in our soul; and an higher understanding it is, inwardly to see and to know that our soul, that is made, dwelleth in god's substance: of which substance, god, we are that we are. and i saw no difference between god and our substance: but as it were all god; and yet mine understanding took that our substance is in god: that is to say, that god is god, and our substance is a creature in god. for the almighty truth of the trinity is our father: for he made us and keepeth us in him; and the deep wisdom of the trinity is our mother, in whom we are all enclosed; the high goodness of the trinity is our lord, and in him we are enclosed, and he in us. we are enclosed in the father, and we are enclosed in the son, and we are enclosed in the holy ghost. and the father is enclosed in us, and the son is enclosed in us, and the holy ghost is enclosed in us: almightiness, all-wisdom, all-goodness: one god, one lord. and our faith is a virtue that cometh of our nature-substance into our sense-soul by the holy ghost; in which all our virtues come to us: for without that, no man may receive virtue. for it is nought else but a right understanding, with true belief, and sure trust, of our being: that we are in god, and god in us, whom we see not. and this virtue, with all other that god hath ordained to us coming therein, worketh in us great things. for christ's merciful working is in us, and we graciously accord to him through the gifts and the virtues of the holy ghost. this working maketh that we are christ's children, and christian in living. chapter lv "christ is our way"--"mankind shall be restored from double death" and thus christ is our way, us surely leading in his laws, and christ in his body mightily beareth us up into heaven. for i saw that christ, us all having in him that shall be saved by him, worshipfully presenteth his father in heaven with us; which present full thankfully his father receiveth, and courteously giveth it to his son, jesus christ: which gift and working is joy to the father, and bliss to the son, and pleasing to the holy ghost. and of all things that belong to us [to do], it is most pleasing to our lord that we enjoy in this joy which is in the blessed trinity [in virtue] of our salvation. (and this was seen in the ninth shewing, where it speaketh more of this matter.) and notwithstanding all our feeling of woe or weal, god willeth that we should understand and hold[ ] by faith that we are more verily in heaven than in earth. our faith cometh of the natural love of our soul, and of the clear light of our reason, and of the steadfast mind which we have from[ ] god in our first making. and what time that our soul is inspired into our body, in which we are made sensual, so soon mercy and grace begin to work, having of us care and keeping with pity and love: in which working the holy ghost formeth, in our faith, _hope_ that we shall come again up above to our substance, into the virtue of christ, increased and fulfilled through the holy ghost. thus i understood that the sense-soul is grounded in nature, in mercy, and in grace: which ground enableth us to receive gifts that lead us to endless life. for i saw full assuredly that our substance is in god, and also i saw that in our sense-soul[ ] god is: for in the self-[same] point that our soul is made sensual, in the self-[same] point is the city of god ordained to him from without beginning; into which seat he cometh, and never shall remove [from] it. for god is never out of the soul: in which he dwelleth blissfully without end. and this was seen in the sixteenth shewing where it saith: _the place that jesus taketh in our soul, he shall never remove [from] it_. and all the gifts that god may give to creatures, he hath given to his son jesus for us: which gifts he, dwelling in us, hath enclosed in him unto the time that we be waxen and grown,--our soul with our body and our body with our soul, either of them taking help of other,--till we be brought up unto stature, as nature worketh. and then, in the ground of nature, with working of mercy, the holy ghost graciously inspireth into us gifts leading to endless life. and thus was my understanding led of god to see in him and to understand, to perceive and to know, that our soul is _made-trinity_, like to the unmade blissful trinity,[ ] known and loved from without beginning, and in the making oned to the maker, as it is aforesaid. this sight was full sweet and marvellous to behold, peaceable, restful, sure, and delectable. and because of the worshipful oneing that was thus made by god betwixt the soul and body, it behoveth needs to be that mankind shall be restored from double death: which restoring might never be until the time that the second person in the trinity had taken the lower[ ] part of man's nature; to whom the highest[ ] [part] was oned in the first-making. and these two parts were in christ, the higher and the lower: which is but one soul; the higher part was one in peace with god, in full joy and bliss; the lower part, which is sense-nature,[ ] suffered for the salvation of mankind. and these two parts [in christ] were seen and felt in the eighth shewing, in which my body was fulfilled with feeling and mind of christ's passion and his death, and furthermore with this was a subtile feeling and privy inward sight of the high part which i was shewed in the same time when i could not, [even] for the friendly[ ] proffer [made to me], look up into heaven: and that was because of that mighty beholding [that i had] of the inward life. which inward life is that high substance, that precious soul, [of christ], which is endlessly rejoicing in the godhead. [ ] "feythyn." [ ] "of." [ ] "sensualite." [ ] wisdom, truth, love or goodness, p. . [ ] the sense-soul. [ ] the substance. [ ] "sensualite." [ ] "wher i myte not for the mene profir lokyn up on to hevyn." "mene" = medium, is perhaps a sub. in the gen. = intervenor's, intermediary's. see xix. p. and xxxv. p. , s. de cressy has: "where i might not for the mean profer look up"; collins: "for the meanwhile." chapter lvi "god is nearer to us than our own soul" "we can never come to full knowing of god till we know first clearly our own soul" and thus i saw full surely that it is readier to us to come to the knowing of god than to know our own soul. for our soul is so deep-grounded in god, and so endlessly treasured, that we may not come to the knowing thereof till we have first knowing of god, which is the maker, to whom it is oned. but, notwithstanding, i saw that we have, for fulness, to desire wisely and truly to know our own soul: whereby we are learned to seek it where it is, and that is, in god. and thus by gracious leading of the holy ghost, we should know them both in one: whether we be stirred to know god or our soul, both [these stirrings] are good and true. god is nearer to us than our own soul: for he is [the] ground in whom our soul standeth, and he is [the] mean that keepeth the substance and the sense-nature together so that they shall never dispart. for our soul sitteth in god in very rest, and our soul standeth in god in very strength, and our soul is kindly rooted in god in endless love: and therefore if we will have knowledge of our soul, and communing and dalliance therewith, it behoveth to seek unto our lord god in whom it is enclosed. (and of this enclosement i saw and understood more in the sixteenth shewing, as i shall tell.) and as anent our substance and our sense-part, both together may rightly be called our soul:[ ] and that is because of the oneing that they have in god. the worshipful city that our lord jesus sitteth in is our sense-soul, in which he is enclosed: and our kindly substance is enclosed in jesus with the blessed soul of christ sitting in rest in the godhead. and i saw full surely that it behoveth needs to be that we should be in longing and in penance unto the time that we be led so deep into god that we verily and truly know our own soul. and truly i saw that into this high deepness our good lord himself leadeth us in the same love that he made us, and in the same love that he bought us by mercy and grace through virtue of his blessed passion. and notwithstanding all this, we may never come to full knowing of god till we know first clearly our own soul. for until the time that our soul is in its full powers[ ] we cannot be all fully holy: and that is [until the time] that our sense-soul by the virtue of christ's passion be brought up to the substance, with all the profits of our tribulation that our lord shall make us to get by mercy and grace. i had, in part, [experience of the] touching [of god in the soul], and it is grounded in nature. that is to say, our reason is grounded in god, which is substantial naturehood.[ ] [out] of this substantial naturehood mercy and grace springeth and spreadeth into us, working all things in fulfilling of our joy: these are our ground in which we have our increase and our fulfilling. these be three properties in one goodness: and where one worketh, all work in the things which be _now_ belonging to us. god willeth that we understand [this], desiring with all our heart to have knowing of them more and more unto the time that we be fulfilled: for fully to know them is nought else but endless joy and bliss that we shall have in heaven, which god willeth should be begun here in knowing of his love. for only by our reason we may not profit, but if we have evenly therewith mind and love: nor only in our nature-ground that we have in god we may not be saved but if we have, coming of the same ground, mercy and grace. for of these three working all together we receive all our goodness. of the which the first [gifts] are goods of nature: for in our first making god gave us as full goods as we might receive in our spirit alone,[ ]--and also greater goods; but his foreseeing purpose in his endless wisdom willed that we should be double. [ ] "& anempts our substance and sensualite it may rytely be clepid our soule." [ ] "the full myts." [ ] "i had in partie touching and it is grounded in kynd: that is to sey, our reson is groundid in god, which is substantial kyndhede." [ ] "ffor in our first makyng god gaf us as ful goods and also greter godes as we myte receivin only in our spirite." in the ms. the word "spirit" is used only here, where it means "the substance." chapter lvii "in christ our two natures are united" and anent our substance he made us noble, and so rich that evermore we work his will and his worship. (where i say "we," it meaneth man that shall be saved.) for soothly i saw that we are that which he loveth, and do that which him pleaseth, lastingly without any stinting: and [that by virtue] of the great riches and of the high noble virtues by measure come to our soul what time it is knit to our body: in which knitting we are made sensual. and thus in our substance we are full, and in our sense-soul we fail: which failing god will restore and fulfil by working of mercy and grace plenteously flowing into us out of his own nature-goodness.[ ] and thus his nature-goodness maketh that mercy and grace work in us, and the nature-goodness that we have of him enableth us to receive the working of mercy and grace. i saw that our nature is in god whole: in which [whole nature of manhood] he maketh diversities flowing out of him to work his will: whom nature keepeth, and mercy and grace restoreth and fulfilleth. and of these none shall perish: for our nature that is the higher part is knit to god, in the making; and god is knit to our nature that is the lower part, in our flesh-taking: and thus in christ our two natures are oned. for the trinity is comprehended in christ, in whom our higher part is grounded and rooted; and our lower part the second person hath taken: which nature first to him was made-ready.[ ] for i saw full surely that all the works that god hath done, or ever shall, were fully known to him and aforeseen from without beginning. and for love he made mankind, and for the same love would be man. the next[ ] good that we receive is our faith, in which our profiting beginneth. and it cometh [out] of the high riches of our nature-substance into our sensual soul, and it is grounded in us through the nature-goodness of god, by the working of mercy and grace. and thereof come all other goods by which we are led and saved. for the commandments of god come therein: in which we ought to have two manners of understanding: [the one is that we ought to understand and know] which are his biddings, to love and to keep them; the other is that we ought to know his forbiddings, to hate and to refuse them. for in these two is all our working comprehended. also in our faith come the seven sacraments, each following other in order as god hath ordained them to us: and all manner of virtues. for the same virtues that we have received of our substance, given to us in nature by the goodness of god,--the same virtues by the working of mercy are given to us in grace through the holy ghost, _renewed_: which virtues and gifts are treasured to us in jesus christ. for in that same[ ] time that god knitted himself to our body in the virgin's womb, he took our sensual soul:[ ] in which taking he, us all having enclosed in him, oned it to our substance: in which oneing he was perfect man. for christ having knit in him each[ ] man that shall be saved, is perfect man. thus our lady is our mother in whom we are all enclosed and of her born,[ ] in christ: (for she that is mother of our saviour is mother of all that shall be saved in our saviour;) and our saviour is our very mother in whom we be endlessly borne,[ ] and never shall come out of him. plenteously and fully and sweetly was this shewed, and it is spoken of in the first, where it saith: _we are all in him enclosed and he is enclosed in us_. and that [enclosing of him in us] is spoken of in the sixteenth shewing, where it saith: _he sitteth in our soul_. for it is his good-pleasure to reign in our understanding blissfully, and sit in our soul restfully, and to dwell in our soul endlessly, us all working into him: in which working he willeth that we be his helpers, giving to him all our attending, learning his lores, keeping his laws, desiring that all be done that he doeth; truly trusting in him. for soothly i saw that our substance is in god.[ ] [ ] "kynde godhede." [ ] "adyte." [ ] or the _first_. [ ] "ilk" = "same." [ ] here, as above, the ms. term for the "_sensual soul_" is the "_sensualite_." [ ] "ilk" = "each." [ ] the ms. word is in both cases "borne," which may mean either _born_ or _borne_. s. de cressy gives "born" both for the first word and the second. see lx. "he sustaineth us within himself in love," etc.; and lxiii. "in the taking of our nature he quickened us," etc. [ ] see preceding note. [ ] from _the scale [or ladder] of perfection,_ by walter hilton (fourteenth century), edition of , part iii. ch. ii.:-- "the soule of a man is a life consisting of three powers, _memory, understanding,_ and _will,_ after the image and likeness of the blessed trinity.... whereby you may see, that man's soule (which may be called a created trinity) was in its natural state replenished in its three powers, with the remembrance, sight, and love of the most blessed uncreated trinity, which is god.... but when adam sinned, choosing love and delight in himselfe, and in the creatures, he lost all his excellency and dignity, and thou also in him." ch. iii. sec. i. "and though we should prove not to be able to recover it fully here in this life, yet should we desire and endeavour to recover the image and likeness of the dignity we had, so that our soul might be reformed as it were in a shadow by grace to the image of the trinity which we had by nature, and hereafter shall have fully in bliss...." sec. ii. "seeke then that which thou hast lost, that thou mayest finde it; for well i wote, whosoever once hath an inward sight, but a little of that dignity and that spirituall fairness which a soule hath by creation, and shall have again by grace, he will loath in his heart all the blisse, the liking, and the fairnesse of this world.... nevertheless as thou hast not as yet seen what it is fully, for thy spiritual eye is not yet opened, i shall tell thee one word for all, in the which thou shalt seeke, desire, and finde it; for in that one word is all that thou hast lost. this word is jesus.... if thou feelest in thy heart a great desire to jesus ... then seekest thou well thy lord jesus. and when thou feelest this desire to god, or to jesus (for it is all one) holpen and comforted by a ghostly might, insomuch that it is turned into love, affection, and spiritual fervour and sweetnesse, into light and knowing of truth, so that for the time the point of thy thought is set upon no other created thing, nor feeleth any stirring of vain-glory, nor of selfe-love, nor any other evill affection (for they cannot appear at that time) but this thy desire is onely enclosed, rested, softened, suppled, and annoynted in jesus, then hast thou found somewhat of jesus; i mean not him as he is, but a shadow of him; for the better that thou findest him, the more shalt thou desire him. then observe by what manner of prayer or meditation or exercise of devotion thou findest greatest and purest desire stirred up in thee to him, and most feeling of him, by that kind of prayer, exercise, or worke seekest thou him best, and shalt best finde him.... "see then the mercy and courtesie of jesus. thou hast lost him, but where? soothly in thy house, that is to say, in thy soul, that if thou hadst lost all thy reason of thy soule, by its first sinne, thou shouldst never have found him again; but he left thee thy reason, and so he is still in thy soule, and never is quite lost out of it. "nevertheless, thou art never the nearer him, till thou hast found him. he is in thee, though he be lost from thee; but thou art not in him, till thou hast found him. this is his mercy also, that he would suffer himself to be lost onely where he may be found, so that thou needest not run to _rome_, nor to _jerusalem_ to seeke him there, but turne thy thoughts into thy owne soule, where he is hid, as the prophet saith; _truly thou art the hidden god_, hid in thy soule, and seek him there. thus saith he himselfe in the gospel; _the kingdome of heaven is likened to a treasure hid in the field, the which when a man findeth, for joy thereof, he goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field_. jesus is a treasure hid in the soule.... "as long as jesus findeth not his image reformed in thee, he is strange, and the farther from thee: therefore frame and shape thyself to be arrayed in his likenesse, that is in humility and charity, which are his liveries, and then will he know thee, and familiarly come to thee, and acquaint thee with his secrets. thus saith he to his disciples; _who so loveth me, he shall be loved of my father, and i will manifest my selfe unto him_. there is not any vertue nor any good work that can make thee like to our lord, without humility and charity, for these two above all other are most acceptable ('most leyf') to him, which appeareth plainly in the gospel, where our lord speaketh of humility thus; _learn of me, for i am meeke and humble in heart_. he saith not, learn of me to go barefoot, or to go into the desart, and there to fast forty dayes, nor yet to choose to your selves disciples (as i did) but learne of me meeknesse, for i am meek and lowly in heart. also of charity he saith thus; _this is my commandment, that ye love one another as i loved you, for by that shall men know you for my disciples_. not that you worke miracles, or cast out devills, or preach, or teach, but that each one of you love one another in charity. if therefore thou wilt be like him, have humility and charity. now thou knowest what charity is, _viz._ to love thy neighbour as thy selfe." chap. iv. sec. .... "now i shall tell thee (according to my feeble ability) how thou mayest enter into thy selfe to see the ground of sin, and destroy it as much as thou canst, and so recover a part of thy souls dignity.... draw in thy thoughts ... and set thy intent and full purpose, as if thou wouldst not seek nor find any thing but onely the grace and spiritual presence of jesus." "this will be painful; for vaine thoughts will presse into thy heart very thick, to draw thy minde down to them. and in doing thus, thou shalt find somewhat, but not jesus whom thou seekest, but onely a naked remembrance of his name. but what then shalt thou finde? surely this; a darke and ill-favoured image of thy owne soule, which hath neither light of knowledge nor feeling of love of god.... this is not the image of jesus, but the image of sin, which st paul calleth a _body of sinne and of death_.... peradventure now thou beginnest to thinke with thy selfe what this image is like, and that thou shouldst not study much upon it, i will tell thee. it is like no bodily thing; what is it then saist thou? verily it is _nought_, or no reall thing, as thou shalt finde, if thou try by doing as i have spoken; that is, draw in thy thoughts into thy selfe from all bodily things, and then shalt thou find right _nought_ wherein thy soule may rest. "this _nothing_ is nought else but darknesse of conscience, and a lacking of the love of god and of light; as sin is nought but a want of good, if it were so that the ground of sin was much abated and dryed up in thee, and thy soule was reformed right as the image of jesus; then if thou didst draw into thy selfe thy heart, thou shouldst not find this _nought_, but thou shouldst find jesus; not only the naked remembrance of this name, but jesus christ in thy soule readily teaching thee, thou shouldst there find light of understanding, and no darknesse of ignorance, a love and liking of him; and no pain of bitternesse, heavinesse, or tediousenesse of him.... "and here also thou must beware that thou take jesus christ into thy thoughts against this darknesse in thy mind, by busie prayer and fervent desire to god, not setting the point of thy thoughts on that foresaid _nought_, but on jesus christ whom thou desirest. think stifly on his passion, and on his humility, and through his might thou shalt arise. do as if thou wouldst beate downe this darke image, and go through-stitch with it. thou shalt hate ('agryse') and loath this darknesse and this _nought_, just as the devill, and thou shalt despise and all to break it ('brest it'). "for within this nought is jesus hid in his joy, whom thou shalt not finde with all thy seeking, unlesse thou passe this darknesse of conscience. "this is the ghostly travel i spake of, and the cause of all this writing is to stir thee thereto, if thou have grace. this darknesse of conscience, and this _nought_ is the image of the first _adam_: st paul knew it well, for he said thus of it; as we have before borne the _image of the earthly man_, that is the first _adam, right so that we might now beare the image of the heavenly man_, which is jesus, the second _adam_. st _paul_ bare this image oft full heavily, for it was so cumbersome to him, that he cryed out of it, saying thus; _o who shall deliver me from this body and this image of death_. and then he comforted himselfe and others also thus: _the grace_ of god through jesus christ." chapter lviii "all our life is in three: 'nature, mercy, grace.' the high might of the trinity is our father, and the deep wisdom of the trinity is our mother, and the great love of the trinity is our lord" god, the blessed trinity, which is everlasting being, right as he is endless from without beginning, right so it was in his purpose endless, to make mankind. which fair kind first was prepared[ ] to his own son, the second person. and when he would, by full accord of all the trinity, he made us all at once; and in our making he knit us and oned us to himself: by which oneing we are kept as clear and as noble as we were made. by the virtue of the same precious oneing, we love our maker and seek him, praise him and thank him, and endlessly enjoy him. and this is the work which is wrought continually in every soul that shall be saved: which is the godly will aforesaid. and thus in our making, god, almighty, is our nature's father; and god, all-wisdom, is our nature's mother; with the love and the goodness of the holy ghost: which is all one god, one lord. and in the knitting and the oneing he is our very, true spouse, and we his loved wife, his fair maiden: with which wife he is never displeased. for he saith: i love thee and thou lovest me, and our love shall never be disparted in two. i beheld the working of all the blessed trinity: in which beholding i saw and understood these three properties: the property of the fatherhood, the property of the motherhood, and the property of the lordhood, in one god. in our father almighty we have our keeping and our bliss as anent our natural substance, which is to us by our making, without beginning. and in the second person in skill[ ] and wisdom we have our keeping as anent our sense-soul: our restoring and our saving; for he is our mother, brother, and saviour. and in our good lord, the holy ghost, we have our rewarding and our meed-giving for our living and our travail, and endless overpassing of all that we desire, in his marvellous courtesy, of his high plenteous grace. for all our life is in _three_: in the first we have our being, in the second we have our increasing, and in the third we have our fulfilling: the first is nature, the second is mercy, and the third is grace. for the first, i understood that the high might of the trinity is our father, and the deep wisdom of the trinity is our mother, and the great love of the trinity is our lord: and all this have we in nature and in the making of our substance.[ ] and furthermore i saw that the second person, which is our mother as anent the substance, that same dearworthy person is become our mother as anent the sense-soul. for we are double by god's making: that is to say, substantial and sensual. our substance is the higher part, which we have in our father, god almighty; and the second person of the trinity is our mother in nature, in making of our substance: in whom we are grounded and rooted. and he is our mother in mercy, in taking of our sense-part. and thus our mother is to us in diverse manners working: in whom our parts are kept undisparted. for in our mother christ we profit and increase, and in mercy he reformeth us and restoreth, and, by the virtue of his passion and his death and uprising, oneth us to our substance. thus worketh our mother in mercy to all his children which are to him yielding[ ] and obedient. and grace worketh with mercy, and specially in two properties, as it was shewed: which working belongeth to the third person, the holy ghost. he worketh _rewarding_ and _giving_. rewarding is a large giving-of-truth that the lord doeth to him that hath travailed; and giving is a courteous working which he doeth freely of grace, fulfilling and overpassing all that is deserved of creatures. thus in our father, god almighty, we have our being; and in our mother of mercy we have our reforming and restoring: in whom our parts are oned and all made perfect man; and by [reward]-yielding and giving in grace of the holy ghost, we are fulfilled. and our substance is [in] our father, god almighty, and our substance is [in][ ] our mother, god, all-wisdom; and our substance is in our lord the holy ghost, god all-goodness. for our substance is whole in each person of the trinity, which is one god. and our sense-soul is only in the second person christ jesus; in whom is the father and the holy ghost: and in him and by him we are mightily taken out of hell, and out of the wretchedness in earth worshipfully brought up into heaven and blissfully oned to our substance: increased in riches and in nobleness by all the virtues of christ, and by the grace and working of the holy ghost. [ ] ms. "adyte to" = ordained to, made ready for. [ ] ms. "witt." [ ] "in our substantiall makyng." [ ] "buxum." [ ] s. de cressy gives the "in" twice missed in the brit. mus. ms. chapter lix "jesus christ that doeth good against evil is our very mother: we have our being of him where the ground of motherhood beginneth,--with all the sweet keeping by love, that endlessly followeth." and all this bliss we have by mercy and grace: which manner of bliss we might never have had nor known but if that property of goodness which is god had been contraried: whereby we have this bliss. for wickedness hath been suffered to rise contrary to the goodness, and the goodness of mercy and grace contraried against the wickedness and turned all to goodness and to worship, to all these that shall be saved. for it is the property in god which doeth good against evil. thus jesus christ that doeth good against evil is our very mother: we have our being of him,--where the ground of motherhood beginneth,--with all the sweet keeping of love that endlessly followeth. as verily as god is our father, so verily god is our mother; and that shewed he in all, and especially in these sweet words where he saith: _i it am_.[ ] that is to say, _i it am, the might and the goodness of the fatherhood; i it am, the wisdom of the motherhood; i it am, the light and the grace that is all blessed love: i it am, the trinity, i it am, the unity: i am the sovereign goodness of all manner of things. i am that maketh thee to love: i am that maketh thee to long: i it am, the endless fulfilling of all true desires._ for there the soul is highest, noblest, and worthiest, where it is lowest, meekest, and mildest: and [out] of this _substantial ground_ we have all our virtues in our sense-part by gift of nature, by helping and speeding of mercy and grace: without the which we may not profit. our high father, god almighty, which is being, he knew and loved us from afore any time: of which knowing, in his marvellous deep charity and the foreseeing counsel of all the blessed trinity, he willed that the second person should become our mother. our father [willeth], our mother worketh, our good lord the holy ghost confirmeth: and therefore it belongeth to us to love our god in whom we have our being: him reverently thanking and praising for[ ] our making, mightily praying to our mother for[ ] mercy and pity, and to our lord the holy ghost for[ ] help and grace. for in these three is all our life: nature, mercy, grace: whereof we have meekness and mildness; patience and pity; and hating of sin and of wickedness,--for it belongeth properly to virtue to hate sin and wickedness. and thus is jesus our very mother in nature [by virtue] of our first making; and he is our very mother in grace, by taking our nature made. all the fair working, and all the sweet natural office of dearworthy motherhood is impropriated[ ] to the second person: for in him we have this godly will whole and safe without end, both in nature and in grace, of his own proper goodness. i understood three manners of beholding of motherhood in god: the first is grounded in our nature's _making_; the second is _taking_ of our nature,--and there beginneth the motherhood of grace; the third is motherhood of _working_,--and therein is a forthspreading by the same grace, of length and breadth and height and of deepness without end. and all is one love. [ ] it is i. [ ] ms. "of." [ ] ms. "of." [ ] ms. "of." [ ] or "appropriated to"; ms. "impropried" = made to be the property of; assigned and consigned to. chapter lx "the kind, loving, mother" but now behoveth to say a little more of this forthspreading, as i understand in the meaning of our lord: how that we be brought again by the motherhood of mercy and grace into our nature's place, where that we were made by the motherhood of nature-love: which kindly-love, it never leaveth us. our kind mother, our gracious mother,[ ] for that he would all wholly become our mother in all things, he took the ground of his works full low and full mildly in the maiden's womb. (and that he shewed in the first [shewing] where he brought that meek maid afore the eye of mine understanding in the simple stature as she was when she conceived.) that is to say: our high god is sovereign wisdom of all: in this low place he arrayed and dight him full ready in our poor flesh, himself to do the service and the office of motherhood in all things. the mother's service is nearest, readiest, and surest: [nearest, for it is most of nature; readiest, for it is most of love; and surest][ ] for it is most of truth. this office none might, nor could, nor ever should do to the full, but he alone. we know that all our mothers' bearing is [bearing of] us to pain and to dying: and what is this but that our very mother, jesus, he--all-love--beareth us to joy and to endless living?--blessed may he be! thus he sustaineth[ ] us within himself in love; and travailed, unto the full time that he would suffer the sharpest throes and the most grievous pains that ever were or ever shall be; and died at the last. and when he had finished, and so borne us to bliss, yet might not all this make full content to his marvellous love; and that sheweth he in these high overpassing words of love: _if i might suffer more, i would suffer more_. he might no more die, but he would not stint of working: wherefore then it behoveth him to feed us; for the dearworthy love of motherhood hath made him debtor to us. the mother may give her child suck of her milk, but our precious mother, jesus, he may feed us with himself, and doeth it, full courteously and full tenderly, with the blessed sacrament that is precious food of my life; and with all the sweet sacraments he sustaineth us full mercifully and graciously. and so meant he in this blessed word where that he said: _it is i[ ] that holy church preacheth thee and teacheth thee._ that is to say: _all the health and life of sacraments, all the virtue and grace of my word, all the goodness that is ordained in holy church for thee, it is i_. the mother may lay the child tenderly to her breast, but our tender mother, jesus, he may homely lead us into his blessed breast, by his sweet open side, and shew therein part of the godhead and the joys of heaven, with spiritual sureness of endless bliss. and that shewed he in the tenth [shewing], giving the same understanding in this sweet word where he saith: _lo! how i loved thee_; looking unto [the wound in] his side, rejoicing. this fair lovely word _mother_, it is so sweet and so close in nature of itself[ ] that it may not verily be said of none but of _him_; and to her that is very mother of him and of all. to the property of motherhood belongeth natural love, wisdom, and knowing; and it is good: for though it be so that our bodily forthbringing be but little, low, and simple in regard of our spiritual forthbringing, yet it is he that doeth it in the creatures by whom that it is done. the kindly,[ ] loving mother that witteth and knoweth the need of her child, she keepeth it full tenderly, as the nature[ ] and condition of motherhood will. and as it waxeth in age, she changeth her working, but not her love. and when it is waxen of more age, she suffereth that it be beaten[ ] in breaking down of vices, to make the child receive virtues and graces. this working, with all that be fair and good, our lord doeth it in them by whom it is done: thus he is our mother in nature by the working of grace in the lower part for love of the higher part. and he willeth that we know this: for he will have all our love fastened to him. and in this i saw that all our duty that we owe, by god's bidding, to fatherhood and motherhood, for [reason of] god's fatherhood and motherhood is fulfilled in true loving of god; which blessed love christ worketh in us. and this was shewed in all [the revelations] and especially in the high plenteous words where he saith: _it is i that thou lovest_. [ ] our mother by nature, our mother in grace. [ ] these clauses, probably omitted by mistake, are in s. de cressy's version. [ ] s. de cressy has "sustained." see lvii. p. . [ ] "i it am." [ ] "so kynd of the self." [ ] "kynde." [ ] "kind." [ ] "bristinid." chapter lxi "by the assay of this falling we shall have an high marvellous knowing of love in god, without end. for strong and marvellous is that love which may not, nor will not, be broken for trespass" and in our spiritual forthbringing he useth more tenderness of keeping, without any likeness: by as much as our soul is of more price in his sight. he kindleth our understanding, he directeth our ways, he easeth our conscience, he comforteth our soul, he lighteneth our heart, and giveth us, in part, knowing and believing in his blissful godhead, with gracious mind in his sweet manhood and his blessed passion, with reverent marvelling in his high, overpassing goodness; and maketh us to love all that he loveth, for his love, and to be well-pleased with him and all his works. and when we fall, hastily he raiseth us by his lovely calling[ ][ ] and gracious touching. and when we be thus strengthened by his sweet working, then we with all our will choose him, by his sweet grace, to be his servants and his lovers lastingly without end. and after this he suffereth some of us to fall more hard and more grievously than ever we did afore, as us thinketh. and then ween we (who be not all wise) that all were nought that we have begun. but this is not so. for it needeth us to fall, and it needeth us to see it. for if we never fell, we should not know how feeble and how wretched we are of our self, and also we should not fully know that marvellous love of our maker. for we shall see verily in heaven, without end, that we have grievously sinned in this life, and notwithstanding this, we shall see that we were never hurt in his love, we were never the less of price in his sight. and by the assay of this falling we shall have an high, marvellous knowing of love in god, without end. for strong and marvellous is that love which may not, nor will not, be broken for trespass. and this is one understanding of [our] profit. another is the lowness and meekness that we shall get by the sight of our falling: for thereby we shall highly be raised in heaven; to which raising we might[ ] never have come without that meekness. and therefore it needeth us to see it; and if we see it not, though we fell it should not profit us. and commonly, first we fall and later we see it: and both of the mercy of god. the mother may suffer the child to fall sometimes, and to be hurt in diverse manners for its own profit, but she may never suffer that any manner of peril come to the child, for love. and though our earthly mother may suffer her child to perish, our heavenly mother, jesus, may not suffer us that are his children to perish: for he is all-mighty, all-wisdom, and all-love; and so is none but he,--blessed may he be! but oftentimes when our falling and our wretchedness is shewed us, we are so sore adread, and so greatly ashamed of our self, that scarcely we find where we may hold us. but then willeth not our courteous mother that we flee away, for him were nothing lother. but he willeth then that we use the condition of a child: for when it is hurt, or adread, it runneth hastily to the mother for help, with all its might. so willeth he that we do, as a meek child saying thus: _my kind mother, my gracious mother, my dearworthy mother, have mercy on me: i have made myself foul and unlike to thee, and i nor may nor can amend it but with thine help and grace_. and if we feel us not then eased forthwith, be we sure that he useth the condition of a wise mother. for if he see that it be more profit to us to mourn and to weep, he suffereth it, with ruth and pity, unto the best time, for love. and he willeth then that we use the property of a child, that evermore of nature trusteth to the love of the mother in weal and in woe. and he willeth that we take us mightily to the faith of holy church and find there our dearworthy mother, in solace of true understanding, with all the blessed common. for one single person may oftentimes be broken, as it seemeth to himself, but the whole body of holy church was never broken, nor never shall be, without end. and therefore a sure thing it is, a good and a gracious, to will meekly and mightily to be fastened and oned to our mother, holy church, that is, christ jesus. for the food of mercy that is his dearworthy blood and precious water is plenteous to make us fair and clean; the blessed wounds of our saviour be open and enjoy to heal us; the sweet, gracious hands of our mother be ready and diligently about us. for he in all this working useth the office of a kind nurse that hath nought else to do but to give heed about[ ] the salvation of her child. it is his office to save us: it is his worship to do [for] us,[ ] and it is his will [that] we know it: for he willeth that we love him sweetly and trust in him meekly and mightily. and this shewed he in these gracious words: _i keep thee full surely_. [ ] "clepyng." [ ] from the _ancren riwle_ (camden society's version, edited by j. morton, d.d.), p. : "the sixth comfort is, that our lord, when he suffereth us to be tempted, playeth with us, as the mother with her young darling: she flies from him, and hides herself, and lets him sit alone, and look anxiously around, and call _dame! dame!_ and weep awhile; and then she leapeth forth laughing, with outspread arms, and embraceth and kisseth him, and wipeth his eyes. in like manner, our lord sometimes leaveth us alone, and withdraweth his grace, his comfort, and his support, so that we feel no delight in any good that we do, nor any satisfaction of heart; and yet, at that very time, our dear father loveth us never the less, but doth it for the great love that he hath to us." p. : "the fourth reason why our lord hideth himself is, that thou mayest seek him more earnestly, and call, and weep after him, as the little baby doth after his mother" ("ase deth thet lutel baban"--in another manuscript 'lite barn'--"efter his moder"). [ ] _i.e._ could. [ ] "entend about." [ ] s. de cressy has here "to do it." this ms. seems to have: "to don us," possibly for to work at us, carry out our salvation to perfection, or, to take in hand for us, "to _do_ for us." see _the paston letters_, vol. ii. (letter ), _may_ , "he prayid hym that he wold don for hym in hys mater, and gaf hym a reward; and withinne ryth short tym after, his mater sped." chapter lxii "god is very father and very mother of nature: and all natures that he hath made to flow out of him to work his will shall be restored and brought again into him by the salvation of mankind through the working of grace" for in that time he shewed our frailty and our fallings, our afflictings and our settings at nought,[ ] our despites and our outcastings, and all our woe so far forth as methought it might befall in this life. and therewith he shewed his blessed might, his blessed wisdom, his blessed love: that he keepeth us in this time as tenderly and as sweetly to his worship, and as surely to our salvation, as he doeth when we are in most solace and comfort. and thereto he raiseth us spiritually and highly in heaven, and turneth it all to his worship and to our joy, without end. for his love suffereth us never to lose time. and all this is of the nature-goodness of god, by the working of grace. god is nature[ ] in his being: that is to say, that goodness that is nature, it is god. he is the ground, he is the substance, he is the same thing that is nature-hood.[ ] and he is very father and very mother of nature: and all natures that he hath made to flow out of him to work his will shall be restored and brought again into him by the salvation of man through the working of grace. for of all natures[ ] that he hath set in diverse creatures by part, in man is all the whole; in fulness and in virtue, in fairness and in goodness, in royalty and nobleness, in all manner of majesty, of preciousness and worship. here may we see that we are all beholden to god for nature, and we are all beholden to god for grace. here may we see us needeth not greatly to seek far out to know sundry natures, but to holy church, unto our mother's breast: that is to say, unto our own soul where our lord dwelleth; and there shall we find all now in faith and in understanding. and afterward verily in himself clearly, in bliss. but let no man nor woman take this singularly to himself: for it is not so, it is general: for it is [of] our precious christ, and to him was this fair nature adight[ ] for the worship and nobility of man's making, and for the joy and the bliss of man's salvation; even as he saw, wist, and knew from without beginning. [ ] "our brekyngs and our nowtyngs." [ ] "kynde." [ ] "kindhede." [ ] "kyndes." [ ] _i.e._ made ready, prepared, appointed. chapter lxiii "as verily as sin is unclean, so verily is it unkind"--a disease or monstrous thing against nature. "he shall heal us full fair." here may we see that we have verily of nature to hate sin, and we have verily of grace to hate sin. for nature is all good and fair in itself, and grace was sent out to save nature and destroy sin, and bring again fair nature to the blessed point from whence it came: that is god; with more nobleness and worship by the virtuous working of grace. for it shall be seen afore god by all his holy in joy without end that nature hath been assayed in the fire of tribulation and therein hath been found no flaw, no fault.[ ] thus are nature and grace of one accord: for grace is god, as nature is god: he is two in manner of working and one in love; and neither of these worketh without other: they be not disparted. and when we by mercy of god and with his help accord us to nature and grace, we shall see verily that sin is in sooth viler and more painful than hell, without likeness: for it is contrary to our fair nature. for as verily as sin is unclean, so verily is it unnatural,[ ] and thus an horrible thing to see for the loved[ ] soul that would be all fair and shining in the sight of god, as nature and grace teacheth. yet be we not adread of this, save inasmuch as dread may speed us: but meekly make we our moan to our dearworthy mother, and he shall besprinkle us in his precious blood and make our soul full soft and full mild, and heal us full fair by process of time, right as it is most worship to him and joy to us without end. and of this sweet fair working he shall never cease nor stint till all his dearworthy children be born and forthbrought. (and that shewed he where he shewed [me] understanding of the ghostly thirst, that is the love-longing that shall last till doomsday.) thus in [our] very mother, jesus, our life is grounded, in the foreseeing wisdom of himself from without beginning, with the high might of the father, the high sovereign goodness of the holy ghost. and in the taking of our nature he quickened us; in his blessed dying upon the cross he bare us to endless life; and from that time, and now, and evermore unto doomsday, he feedeth us and furthereth us: even as that high sovereign kindness of motherhood, and as kindly need of childhood asketh. fair and sweet is our heavenly mother in the sight of our souls; precious and lovely are the gracious children in the sight of our heavenly mother, with mildness and meekness, and all the fair virtues that belong to children in nature. for of nature the child despaireth not of the mother's love, of nature the child presumeth not of itself, of nature the child loveth the mother and each one of the other [children]. these are the fair virtues, with all other that be like, wherewith our heavenly mother is served and pleased. and i understood none higher stature in this life than childhood, in feebleness and failing of might and of wit, unto the time that our gracious mother hath brought us up to our father's bliss.[ ] and then shall it verily be known to us his meaning in those sweet words where he saith: _all shall be well: and thou shalt see, thyself, that all manner of things shall be well_. and then shall the bliss of our mother, in christ, be new to begin in the joys of our god: which new beginning shall last without end, new beginning. thus i understood that all his blessed children which be come out of him by nature shall be brought again into him by grace. [ ] "no lak (blame), no defaute." [ ] "as sothly as sin is onclene as sothly is it onkinde." [ ] s. de cressy has "the loving soul." [ ] "our fader bliss." _the fifteenth revelation_ chapter lxiv "_thou shalt come up above._" "a very fair creature, a little child--nimble and lively, whiter than lily" afore this time i had great longing and desire of god's gift to be delivered of this world and of this life. for oftentimes i beheld the woe that is here, and the weal and the bliss that is being there: (and if there had been no pain in this life but the absence of our lord, methought it was some-time more than i might bear;) and this made me to mourn, and eagerly to long. and also from mine own wretchedness, sloth, and weakness, me liked not to live and to travail, as me fell to do. and to all this our courteous lord answered for comfort and patience, and said these words: _suddenly thou shalt be taken from all thy pain, from all thy sickness, from all thy distress[ ] and from all thy woe. and thou shalt come up above and thou shalt have me to thy meed, and thou shalt be fulfilled of love and of bliss. and thou shalt never have no manner of pain, no manner of misliking, no wanting of will; but ever joy and bliss without end. what should it then aggrieve thee to suffer awhile, seeing that it is my will and my worship?_ and in this word: _suddenly thou shalt be taken_,--i saw that god rewardeth man for the patience that he hath in abiding god's will, and for his time, and [for] that man lengtheneth his patience over the time of his living. for not-knowing of his time of passing, that is a great profit: for if a man knew his time, he should not have patience over that time; but, as god willeth, while the soul is in the body it seemeth to itself that it is ever at the point to be taken. for all this life and this languor that we have here is but a point, and when we are taken suddenly out of pain into bliss then pain shall be nought. and in this time i saw a body lying on the earth, which body shewed heavy and horrible,[ ] without shape and form, as it were a swollen quag of stinking mire.[ ] and suddenly out of this body sprang a full fair creature, a little child, fully shapen and formed, nimble[ ] and lively, whiter than lily; which swiftly[ ] glided up into heaven. and the swollenness of the body betokeneth great wretchedness of our deadly flesh, and the littleness of the child betokeneth the cleanness of purity in the soul. and methought: _with this body abideth[ ] no fairness of this child, and on this child dwelleth no foulness of this body_. it is more blissful that man be taken from pain, than that pain be taken from man;[ ] for if pain be taken from us it may come again: therefore it is a sovereign comfort and blissful beholding in a loving soul that we shall be taken from pain. for in this behest[ ] i saw a marvellous compassion that our lord hath in us for our woe, and a courteous promising[ ] of clear deliverance. for he willeth that we be comforted in the overpassing;[ ] and _that_ he shewed in these words: _and thou shalt come up above, and thou shalt have me to thy meed, and thou shalt be fulfilled of joy and bliss_. it is god's will that we set the point of our thought in this blissful beholding as often as we may,--and as long time keep us therein with his grace; for this is a blessed contemplation to the soul that is led of god, and full greatly to his worship, for the time that it lasteth. and [when] we fall again to our heaviness, and spiritual blindness, and feeling of pains spiritual and bodily, by our frailty, it is god's will that we know that he hath not forgotten us. and so signifieth he in these words: _and thou shalt never more have pain; no manner of sickness, no manner of misliking, no wanting of will; but ever joy and bliss without end. what should it then aggrieve thee to suffer awhile, seeing it is my will and my worship?_ it is god's will that we take his behests[ ] and his comfortings as largely and as mightily as we may take them, and also he willeth that we take our abiding and our troubles[ ] as lightly as we may take them, and set them at nought. for the more lightly we take them, and the less price we set on them, for love, the less pain we shall have in the feeling of them, and the more thanks and meed we shall have for them. [ ] "disese." [ ] "uggley." [ ] a "bolned quave of styngand myre." [ ] "swifie" = agile, quick. [ ] "sharply." [ ] "beleveth." [ ] "full blissful ... mor than." [ ] _i.e._ promise, proclamation. [ ] "behoting." [ ] _i.e._ the exceeding fulness of heavenly bliss. [ ] see note above. [ ] "diseases" = discomforts, distresses. chapter lxv "the charity of god maketh in us such a unity that, when it is truly seen, no man can part himself from other" and thus i understood that what man or woman with firm will[ ] chooseth god in this life, for love, he may be sure that he is loved without end: which endless love worketh in him that grace. for he willeth that we be as assured in hope of the bliss of heaven while we are here, as we shall be in sureness while we are there. and ever the more pleasance and joy that we take in this sureness, with reverence and meekness, the better pleaseth him, as it was shewed. this reverence that i mean is a holy courteous dread of our lord, to which meekness is united: and that is, that a creature seeth the lord marvellous great, and itself marvellous little. for these virtues are had endlessly by the loved of god, and this may now be seen and felt in measure through the gracious presence of our lord when it is [seen]: which presence in all things is most desired, for it worketh marvellous assuredness in true faith, and sure hope, by greatness of charity, in dread that is sweet and delectable. it is god's will that i see myself as much bound[ ] to him in love as if he had done for me all that he hath done; and thus should every soul think inwardly of its[ ] lover. that is to say, the charity of god maketh in us such a unity that, when it is truly seen, no man can part himself from other. and thus ought our soul to think that god hath done for it[ ] all that he hath done. and this sheweth he to make us to love him and nought dread but him. for it is his will that we perceive that all the might of our enemy is taken into our friend's hand; and therefore the soul that knoweth assuredly this, he[ ] shall not dread but him that he loveth. all other dread he[ ] setteth among passions and bodily sickness and imaginations. and therefore though we be in so much pain, woe, and distress that it seemeth to us we can think [of] right nought but [of] that [which] we are in, or [of] that [which] we feel, [yet] as soon as we may, pass we lightly over, and set we it at nought. and why? for that god willeth we know [him]; and if we know him and love him and reverently dread him, we shall have peace, and be in great rest, and it shall be great pleasance to us, all that he doeth. and this shewed our lord in these words: _what should it then aggrieve thee to suffer awhile, sith it is my will and my worship?_ now have i told you of fifteen revelations, as god vouchsafed to minister them to [my] mind, renewed by lightings and touchings, i hope of the same spirit that shewed them all. of which fifteen shewings the first began early in the morn, about the hour of four; and they lasted, shewing by process full fair and steadily, each following other, till it was nine of the day, overpassed. [ ] "wilfully." [ ] "bounden" = beholden. [ ] "his." [ ] "him." [ ] _i.e._ the soul. [ ] _i.e._ the soul. chapter lxvi "all was closed, and i saw no more." "for the folly of feeling a little bodily pain i unwisely lost for the time the comfort of all this blessed shewing of our lord god" and after this the good lord shewed the sixteenth [revelation] on the night following, as i shall tell after: which sixteenth was conclusion and confirmation to all fifteen. but first me behoveth to tell you as anent my feebleness, wretchedness and blindness.--i have said in the beginning: _and in this [moment] all my pain was suddenly taken from me:_ of which pain i had no grief nor distress as long as the fifteen shewings lasted following. and at the end all was close, and i saw no more. and soon i felt that i should live and languish;[ ] and anon my sickness came again: first in my head with a sound and a din, and suddenly all my body was fulfilled with sickness like as it was afore. and i was as barren and as dry as [if] i never had comfort but little. and as a wretched creature i moaned and cried for feeling of my bodily pains and for failing of comfort, spiritual and bodily. then came a religious person to me and asked me how i fared. i said i had raved to-day. and he laughed loud and heartily.[ ] and i said: _the cross that stood afore my face, methought it bled fast_. and with this word the person that i spake to waxed all sober and marvelled. and anon i was sore ashamed and astonished for my recklessness, and i thought: _this man taketh in sober earnest[ ] the least word that i might say_. then said i no more thereof. and when i saw that he took it earnestly and with so great reverence, i wept, full greatly ashamed, and would have been shriven; but at that time i could tell it no priest, for i thought: _how should a priest believe me? i believe not our lord god._ this [shewing] i believed verily for the time that i saw him, and so was then my will and my meaning ever for to do without end; but as a fool i let it pass from my mind. ah! lo, wretch that i am! this was a great sin, great unkindness, that i for folly of feeling of a little bodily pain, so unwisely lost for the time the comfort of all this blessed shewing of our lord god. here may you see what i am of myself. but herein would our courteous lord not leave me. and i lay still till night, trusting in his mercy, and then i began to sleep. and in the sleep, at the beginning, methought the fiend set him on my throat, putting forth a visage full near my face, like a young man's and it was long and wondrous lean: i saw never none such. the colour was red like the tilestone when it is new-burnt, with black spots therein like black freckles--fouler than the tilestone. his hair was red as rust, clipped in front,[ ] with full locks hanging on the temples. he grinned on me with a malicious semblance, shewing white teeth: and so much methought it the more horrible. body nor hands had he none shapely, but with his paws he held me in the throat, and would have strangled me, but he might not. this horrible shewing was made [whilst i was] sleeping, and so was none other. but in all this time i trusted to be saved and kept by the mercy of god. and our courteous lord gave me grace to waken; and scarcely had i my life. the persons that were with me looked on me, and wet my temples, and my heart began to comfort. and anon a light smoke came in the door, with a great heat and a foul stench. i said: _benedicite domine! it is all on fire that is here!_ and i weened it had been a bodily fire that should have burnt us all to death. i asked them that were with me if they felt any stench. they said, nay: they felt none. i said: _blessed be god!_ for then wist i well it was the fiend that was come to tempest me. and anon i took to that [which] our lord had shewed me on the same day, with all the faith of holy church (for i beheld it is both one), and fled thereto as to my comfort. and anon all vanished away, and i was brought to great rest and peace, without sickness of body or dread of conscience. [ ] "langiren." [ ] "inderly" = inwardly; so de cressy; (collins has "drolly"). [ ] "sadly" = solidly, soberly. [ ] "evisid aforn with syde lokks hongyng on the thounys" (or thowngs, or thoungs). bradley's _dictionary of middle english--thun(?)wange_ = temple, _evesed_ p. ple of _efesian_ = to clip the edges (_cf. eaves_). the paris ms. however reads: "his hair was rede as rust not scoryd afore, with syde lockes hangyng on the thouwonges." s. de cressy gives this as: "his hair was red as rust not scoured; afore with side locks hanging down in flakes." _the sixteenth revelation_ chapter lxvii "the place that jesus taketh in our soul he shall never remove from, without end:--for in us his homliest home and his endless dwelling." "our soul can never have rest in things that are beneath itself--yet may it not abide in the beholding of its self" and then our lord opened my spiritual eye and shewed me my soul in midst of my heart. i saw the soul so large as it were an endless world, and as it were a blissful kingdom. and by the conditions that i saw therein i understood that it is a worshipful city. in the midst of that city sitteth our lord jesus, god and man, a fair person of large stature, highest bishop, most majestic[ ] king, most worshipful lord; and i saw him clad majestically.[ ] and worshipfully he sitteth in the soul, even-right[ ] in peace and rest. and the godhead ruleth and sustaineth[ ] heaven and earth and all that is,--sovereign might, sovereign wisdom, and sovereign goodness,--[but] the place that jesus taketh in _our soul_ he shall never remove it, without end, as to my sight: for in us is his _homliest_ home and his _endless_ dwelling.[ ] and in this [sight] he shewed the satisfying that he hath of the making of man's soul. for as well as the father might make a creature, and as well as the son could make a creature, so well would the holy ghost that man's soul were made: and so it was done. and therefore the blessed trinity enjoyeth without end in the making of man's soul: for he saw from without beginning what should please him without end. all thing that he hath made sheweth his lordship,--as understanding was given at the same time by example of a creature that is to see great treasures and kingdoms belonging to a lord; and when it had seen all the nobleness beneath, then, marvelling, it was moved to seek above to the high place where the lord dwelleth, knowing, by reason, that his dwelling is in the worthiest place. and thus i understood in verity that our soul may never have rest in things that are beneath itself. and when it cometh above all creatures into the self, yet may it not abide in the beholding of its self, but all the beholding is blissfully set in god that is the maker dwelling therein. for in man's soul is his very dwelling; and the highest light and the brightest shining of the city is the glorious love of our lord, as to my sight. and what may make us more to enjoy in god than to see in him that he enjoyeth in the highest of all his works? for i saw in the same shewing that if the blessed trinity might have made man's soul any better, any fairer, any nobler than it was made, he should not have been full pleased with the making of man's soul. and he willeth that our hearts be mightily raised above the deepness of the earth and all vain sorrows, and rejoice[ ] in him. [ ] "solemnest." [ ] "solemnly" = in state. [ ] _i.e._ straight-set. [ ] "gemeth." [ ] "woning." [ ] "enjoyen." chapter lxviii "he said not: _thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be afflicted_; but he said: _thou shalt not be overcome_" this was a delectable sight and a restful shewing, that it is so _without end_. the beholding of this while we are here is full pleasing to god and full great profit to us; and the soul that thus beholdeth, it maketh it like to him that is beheld, and oneth it in rest and peace by his grace. and this was a singular joy and bliss to me that i saw him _sitting_: for the [quiet] secureness of sitting sheweth endless dwelling. and he gave me to know soothfastly that it was he that shewed me all afore. and when i had beheld this with heedfulness, then shewed our good lord words[ ] full meekly without voice and without opening of lips, right as he had [afore] done, and said full sweetly: _wit it now well that it was no raving that thou sawest to-day: but take it and believe it, and keep thee therein, and comfort thee therewith, and trust thou thereto: and thou shalt not be overcome._ these last words were said for believing and true sureness that it is our lord jesus that shewed me all. and right as in the first word that our good lord shewed, signifying his blissful passion,--_herewith is the devil overcome_,--right so he said in the last word, with full true secureness, meaning us all: _thou shalt not_ be overcome. and all this teaching in this true comfort, it is general, to all mine even-christians, as it is aforesaid: and so is god's will. and this word: _thou shalt not be overcome_, was said full clearly[ ] and full mightily, for assuredness and comfort against all tribulations that may come. he said not: _thou shalt not be tempested, thou shall not be travailed, thou shah not be afflicted_; but he said: _thou shalt not be overcome_. god willeth that we take heed to these words, and that we be ever strong in sure trust, in weal and woe. for he loveth and enjoyeth us, and so willeth he that we love and enjoy him and mightily trust in him; and _all shall be well_. and soon after, all was close and i saw no more. [ ] see lxx. "he shewed it all [the revelation] again within in my soul." [ ] "sharply" = decisively. chapter lxix "i was delivered from the enemy by the virtue of christ's passion" after this the fiend came again with his heat and with his stench, and gave me much ado,[ ] the stench was so vile and so painful, and also dreadful and travailous. also i heard a bodily jangling,[ ] as if it had been of two persons; and both, to my thinking, jangled at one time as if they had holden a parliament with a great busy-ness; and all was soft muttering, so that i understood nought that they said. and all this was to stir me to despair, as methought,--seeming to me as [though] they mocked at praying of prayers[ ] which are said boisterously with [the] mouth, failing [of] devout attending and wise diligence: the which we owe to god in our prayers. and our lord god gave me grace mightily for to trust in him, and to comfort my soul with bodily speech as i should have done to another person that had been travailed. methought _that_ busy-ness[ ] might not be likened to no bodily busy-ness. my bodily eye i set in the same cross where i had been in comfort afore that time; my tongue with speech of christ's passion and rehearsing the faith of holy church; and my heart to fasten on god with all the trust and the might. and i thought to myself, saying: _thou hast now great busy-ness to keep thee in the faith for that thou shouldst not be taken of the enemy: wouldst thou now from this time evermore be so busy to keep thee from sin, this were a good and a sovereign occupation!_ for i thought in sooth were i safe from sin, i were full safe from all the fiends of hell and enemies of my soul. and thus he occupied me all that night, and on the morn till it was about prime day. and anon they were all gone, and all passed; and they left nothing but stench, and that lasted still awhile; and i scorned him. and thus was i delivered from him by the virtue of christ's passion: for _therewith is the fiend overcome_, as our lord jesus christ said afore. [ ] "made me full besy." [ ] _i.e._ gabbling. [ ] "bidding of bedes." [ ] see above, "made me full busy." chapter lxx "above the faith is no goodness kept in this life, as to my sight, and beneath the faith is no help of soul; but _in_ the faith, _there_ willeth the lord that we keep us" in all this blessed shewing our good lord gave understanding that the sight should pass: which blessed shewing the faith keepeth, with his own good will and his grace. for he left with me neither sign nor token whereby i might know it, but he left with me his own blessed word in true understanding, bidding me full mightily that i should believe it. and so i do,--blessed may he be!--i believe that he is our saviour that shewed it, and that it is the faith that he shewed: and therefore i believe it, rejoicing. and thereto i am bounden by all his own meaning, with the next words that follow: _keep thee therein, and comfort thee therewith, and trust thou thereto_. thus i am bounden to keep it in my faith. for on the same day that it was shewed, what time that the sight was passed, as a wretch i forsook it, and openly i said that i had raved. then our lord jesus of his mercy would not let it perish, but he showed it all again _within in my soul_[ ] with more fulness, with the blessed light of his precious love: saying these words full mightily and full meekly: _wit it now well: it was no raving that thou sawest this day_. as if he had said: _for that the sight was passed from thee, thou losedst it and hadst not skill to keep[ ] it. but wit[ ] it now_; that is to say, _now that thou seest it_. this was said not only for that same time, but also to set thereupon the ground of my faith when he saith anon following: _but take it, believe it, and keep thee therein and comfort thee therewith and trust thou thereto; and thou shalt not be overcome_. in these six words that follow (_take it_--[etc.]) his meaning is to fasten it faithfully in our heart: for he willeth that it dwell with us in faith to our life's end, and after in fulness of joy, desiring that we have ever steadfast trust in his blissful behest--knowing his goodness. for our faith is contraried in diverse manners by our own blindness, and our spiritual enemy, within and without; and therefore our precious lover helpeth us with spiritual sight and true teaching in sundry manners within and without, whereby that we may know him. and therefore in whatsoever manner he teacheth us, he willeth that we perceive him wisely, receive him sweetly, and keep us in him faithfully. for above the faith is no goodness kept in this life, as to my sight, and beneath the faith is no help of soul; but in the faith, there willeth the lord that we keep us. for we have by his goodness and his own working to keep us in the faith; and by his sufferance through ghostly enmity we are assayed in the faith and made mighty. for if our faith had none enmity, it should deserve no meed, according to the understanding that i have in all our lord's teaching. [ ] see ch. lxviii. [ ] "couthest not." [ ] _i.e._ learn, perceive, know for certainty by the conviction of reason and consciousness--grasp once for all the truth beheld. chapter lxxi "three manners of looking seen in our lord's countenance" glad and joyous and sweet is the blissful lovely cheer[ ] of our lord to our souls. for he [be]holdeth[ ] us ever, living in love-longing: and he willeth that _our_ soul be in glad cheer to him, to give him his meed. and thus, i hope, with his grace he hath [drawn], and more shall draw, the outer cheer to the inner cheer, and make us all one with him, and each of us with other, in true lasting joy that is jesus. i have signifying of three manners of cheer of our lord. the first is cheer of passion, as he shewed while he was here in this life, dying. though this [manner of] beholding be mournful and troubled, yet it is glad and joyous: for he is god.--the second manner of cheer is [of] ruth and compassion: and this sheweth he, with sureness of keeping, to all his lovers that betake them[ ] to his mercy. the third is the blissful cheer, as it shall be without end: and this was [shewed] oftenest and longest-continued. and thus in the time of our pain and our woe he sheweth us cheer of his passion and his cross, helping us to bear it by his own blessed virtue. and in the time of our sinning he sheweth to us cheer of ruth and pity, mightily keeping us and defending us against all our enemies. and these be the common cheer which he sheweth to us in this life; therewith mingling the third: and that is his blissful cheer, like, in part, as it shall be in heaven. and that [shewing is] by gracious touching and sweet lighting of the spiritual life, whereby that we are kept in sure faith, hope, and charity, with contrition and devotion, and also with contemplation and all manner of true solace and sweet comforts. [ ] "cher," in earlier chapters rendered by _manner of countenance_ or _regard_. [ ] the word of the ms. might be: "he havith" (possibly "draweth"), or "behadith" or "behavith." there is a verb "bi-hawen" _to behold_--in other forms bihabben, bi-halden--; and "behave" had the meaning of to _manage, govern_. elsewhere in the ms. to _regard_, if not _to fix the eyes upon_, is expressed (_e.g._ in xxxix.) simply by _to "holden"_ without the prefix. s. de cressy has here "he beheld." [ ] "that have to"; s. de cressy, "have need to." chapter lxxii "as long as we be meddling with any part of sin we shall never see clearly the blissful countenance of our lord" but now behoveth me to tell in what manner i saw sin deadly in the creatures which shall not die for sin, but live in the joy of god without end. i saw that two contrary things should never be together in one place. the most contrary that are, is the highest bliss and the deepest pain. the highest bliss that is, is to have him in clarity of endless life, him verily seeing, him sweetly feeling, all-perfectly having in fulness of joy. and thus was the blissful cheer of our lord shewed in pity:[ ] in which shewing i saw that sin is most contrary,--so far forth that as long as we be meddling with any part of sin, we shall never see clearly the blissful cheer of our lord. and the more horrible and grievous that our sins be, the deeper are we for that time from this blissful sight. and therefore it seemeth to us oftentimes as we were in peril of death, in a part of hell, for the sorrow and pain that the sin is to us. and thus we are dead for the time from the very sight of our blissful life. but in all this i saw soothfastly that we be not dead in the sight of god, nor he passeth never from us. but he shall never have his full bliss in us till we have our full bliss in him, verily seeing his fair blissful cheer. for we are ordained thereto in nature, and get thereto by grace. thus i saw how sin is deadly for a short time in the blessed creatures of endless life. and ever the more clearly that the soul seeth this blissful cheer by grace of loving, the more it longeth to see it in fulness. for notwithstanding that our lord god dwelleth in us and is here with us, and albeit he claspeth us and encloseth[ ] us for tender love that he may never leave[ ] us, and is more near to us than tongue can tell or heart can think, yet may we never stint of moaning nor of weeping nor of longing till when we see him clearly in his blissful countenance. for in that precious blissful sight there may no woe abide, nor any weal fail.[ ] and in this i saw matter of mirth and matter of moaning: matter of mirth: for our lord, our maker, is so near to us, and in us, and we in him, by sureness of keeping through his great goodness; matter of moaning: for our ghostly eye is so blind and we be so borne down by weight of our mortal flesh and darkness of sin, that we may not see our lord god clearly in his fair blissful cheer. no; and because of this dimness[ ] scarsely we can believe and trust his great love and our sureness[ ] of keeping. and therefore it is that i say we may never stint of moaning nor of weeping. this "weeping" meaneth not all in pouring out of tears by our bodily eye, but also hath more ghostly understanding. for the kindly desire of our soul is so great and so unmeasurable, that if there were given us for our solace and for our comfort all the noble things that ever god made in heaven and in earth, and we saw not the fair blissful cheer[ ] of himself, yet we should not stint of moaning nor ghostly weeping, that is to say, of painful longing, till when we [should] see verily the fair blissful cheer of our maker. and if we were in all the pain that heart can think and tongue may tell, if we might in that time see his fair blissful cheer, all this pain should not aggrieve us. thus is that blissful sight [the] end of all manner of pain to the loving soul, and the fulfilling of all manner of joy and bliss. and that shewed he in the high, marvellous words where he said: _i it am that is highest; i it am that is lowest; i it am that is all_. it belongeth to us to have three manner of knowings: the first is that we know our lord god; the second is that we know our self: what we are by him, in nature and grace; the third is that we know meekly what our self is anent our sin and feebleness. and for these three was all the shewing made, as to mine understanding. [ ] that is: in the shewing of pity (rev. ii) ch. x., in which it was shewed _darkly_. s. de cressy has "in _party_" = _part_, but the word seems to be "_pite_" = _pity_. [ ] halsith; beclosith. [ ] levyn; tellen; thyn ken; stint; see. [ ] "abiden, ne no wele fallen." [ ] "myrkehede, unethes we can leven and trowen." [ ] "sekirnes." [ ] the words "blissful cheer" cannot be rendered by the more beautiful and familiar blessed countenance, and even "_blissful_ countenance" might fail to bring out the reference to _one aspect_ of the divine face, one part of the threefold truth. chapter lxxiii "two manners of sickness that we have: impatience, or sloth;--despair, or mistrustful dread" all the blessed teaching of our lord was shewed by three parts: that is to say, by bodily sight, and by word formed in mine understanding, and by spiritual sight. for the bodily sight, i have said as i saw, as truly as i can; and for the words, i have said them right as our lord shewed them to me; and for the spiritual sight, i have told some deal, but i may never fully tell it: and therefore of this sight i am stirred to say more, as god will give me grace. god shewed two manners of sickness that we have: the one is impatience, or sloth: for we bear our travail and our pains heavily; the other is despair, or doubtful dread, which i shall speak of after. _generally_, he shewed _sin_, wherein that all is comprehended, but in special he shewed only these two. and these two are they that most do travail and tempest us, according to that which our lord shewed me; and of them he would have us be amended. i speak of such men and women as for god's love hate sin and dispose themselves to do god's will: then by our spiritual blindness and bodily heaviness we are most inclining to these. and therefore it is god's will that they be known, for then we shall refuse them as we do other sins. and for help of this, full meekly our lord shewed the patience that he had in his hard passion; and also the joying and the satisfying that he hath of that passion, for love. and this he shewed in example that we should gladly and wisely bear our pains, for that is great pleasing to him and endless profit to us. and the cause why we are travailed with them is for lack in knowing[ ] of love. though the three persons in the trinity[ ] be all even[ ] in itself, the soul[ ] took most understanding in love; yea, and he willeth that in all things we have our beholding and our enjoying in love. and of this knowing are we most blind. for some of us believe that god is almighty and may do all, and that he is all-wisdom and can do all; but that he is all-love and will do all, there we stop short.[ ] and this not-knowing it is, that hindereth most god's lovers, as to my sight. for when we begin to hate sin, and amend us by the ordinance of holy church, yet there dwelleth a dread that letteth us, because of the beholding of our self and of our sins afore done. and some of us because of our every-daily sins: for we hold not our covenants, nor keep we our cleanness that our lord setteth us in, but fall oftentimes into so much wretchedness that shame it is to see it. and the beholding of this maketh us so sorry and so heavy, that scarsely we can find any comfort. and this dread we take sometime for a meekness, but it is a foul blindness and a weakness.[ ] and we cannot despise it as we do another sin, that we know [as sin]: for it cometh [subtly] of enmity, and it is against truth. for it is god's will that of all the properties of the blissful trinity, we should have most sureness and comfort in love: for love maketh might and wisdom full meek to us. for right as by the courtesy of god he forgiveth our sin after the time that we repent us, right so willeth he that _we_ forgive our sin, as anent our unskilful heaviness and our doubtful dreads. [ ] "for _unknowing_." [ ] seen as might, wisdom, love. [ ] _i.e._ equal. [ ] _i.e._ julian (xiii., xxiv., xlvi.). [ ] "astynten." [ ] s. de cressy: "a wickedness"; but the ms. word is "waykenes." chapter lxxiv "there is no dread that fully pleaseth god in us but reverent dread" for i understand [that there be] four manner of dreads. one is the dread of an affright that cometh to a man suddenly by frailty. this dread doeth good, for it helpeth to purge man, as doeth bodily sickness or such other pain as is not sin. for all such pains help man if they be patiently taken. the second is dread of pain, whereby man is stirred and wakened from sleep of sin. he is not able for the time to perceive the soft comfort of the holy ghost, till he have understanding of this dread of pain, of bodily death, of spiritual enemies; and this dread stirreth us to seek comfort and mercy of god, and thus this dread helpeth us,[ ] and enableth us to have contrition by the blissful touching of the holy ghost. the third is doubtful dread. doubtful dread in as much as it draweth to despair, god will have it turned in us into love by the knowing of love: that is to say, that the bitterness of doubt be turned into the sweetness of natural love by grace. for it may never please our lord that his servants doubt in his goodness. the fourth is reverent dread: for there is no dread that fully pleaseth god in us but reverent dread. and that is full soft, for the more it is had, the less it is felt for sweetness of love. love and dread are brethren, and they are rooted in us by the goodness of our maker, and they shall never be taken from us without end. we have of nature to love and we have of grace to love: and we have of nature to dread and we have of grace to dread. it belongeth to the lordship and to the fatherhood to be dreaded, as it belongeth to the goodness to be loved: and it belongeth to us that are his servants and his children to dread him for lordship and fatherhood, as it belongeth to us to love him for goodness. and though this reverent-dread and love be not parted asunder, yet they are not both one, but they are two in property and in working, and neither of them may be had without other. therefore i am sure, he that loveth, he dreadeth, though that he feel it but a little. all dreads other than reverent dread that are proffered to us, though they come under the colour of holiness yet are not so true, and hereby may they be known asunder.--that dread that maketh us hastily to flee from all that is not good and fall into our lord's breast, as the child into the mother's bosom,[ ] with all our intent and with all our mind, knowing our feebleness and our great need, knowing his everlasting goodness and his blissful love, only seeking to him for salvation, cleaving to [him] with sure trust: that dread that bringeth us into this working, it is natural,[ ] gracious, good and true. and all that is contrary to this, either it is wrong, or it is mingled with wrong. then is this the remedy, to know them both and refuse the wrong. for the natural property of dread which we have in this life by the gracious working of the holy ghost, the same shall be in heaven afore god, gentle, courteous, and full delectable. and thus we shall in love be homely and near to god, and we shall in dread be gentle and courteous to god: and both alike equal. desire we of our lord god to dread him reverently, to love him meekly, to trust in him mightily; for when we dread him reverently and love him meekly our trust is never in vain. for the more that we trust, and the more mightily, the more we please and worship our lord that we trust in. and if we fail in this reverent dread and meek love (as god forbid we should!), our trust shall soon be misruled for the time. and therefore it needeth us much to pray our lord of grace that we may have this reverent dread and meek love, of his gift, in heart and in work. for without this, no man may please god. [ ] here the transcriber of the b. mus. ms. repeats (by mistake, no doubt) "to seek," etc. s. de cressy: "helpeth us as an entry." [ ] s. de cressy: "mothers arme," but ms. (b.m.) "moder barme." [ ] "kinde." chapter lxxv "we shall see verily the cause of all things that he hath done; and evermore we shall see the cause of all things that he hath permitted" i saw that god can do all that we need. and these three that i shall speak of we need: love, longing, pity. pity in love keepeth us in the time of our need; and longing in the same love draweth us up into heaven. for the thirst of god is to have the general man unto him: in which thirst he hath drawn his holy that be now in bliss; and getting his lively members, ever he draweth and drinketh, and yet he thirsteth and longeth. i saw three manners of longing in god, and all to one end; of which we have the same in us, and by the same virtue and for the same end. the first is, that he longeth to teach us to know him and love him evermore, as it is convenient and speedful to us. the second is, that he longeth to have us up to his bliss, as souls are when they are taken out of pain into heaven. the third is to fulfill us in bliss; and that shall be on the last day, fulfilled ever to last. for i saw, as it is known in our faith, that the pain and the sorrow shall be ended to all that shall be saved. and not only we shall receive the same bliss that souls afore have had in heaven, but also we shall receive a new [bliss], which plenteously shall be flowing out of god into us and shall fulfill us; and these be the goods which he hath ordained to give us from without beginning. these goods are treasured and hid in himself; for unto that time [no] creature is mighty nor worthy to receive them. in this [fulfilling] we shall see verily the cause of all things that he hath done; and evermore we shall see the cause of all things that he hath suffered.[ ] and the bliss and the fulfilling shall be so deep and so high that, for wonder and marvel, all creatures shall have to god so great reverent dread, overpassing that which hath been seen and felt before, that the pillars of heaven shall tremble and quake. but this manner of trembling and dread shall have no pain; but it belongeth to the worthy might of god thus to be beholden by his creatures, in great dread trembling and quaking for meekness of joy, marvelling at the greatness of god the maker and at the littleness of all that is made. for the beholding of this maketh the creature marvellously meek and mild. wherefore god willeth--and also it belongeth to us, both in nature and grace--that we wit and know of this, desiring this sight and this working; for it leadeth us in right way, and keepeth us in true life, and oneth us to god. and as good as god is, so great he is; and as much as it belongeth to his goodness to be loved, so much it belongeth to his greatness to be dreaded. for this reverent dread is the fair courtesy that is in heaven afore god's face. and as much as he shall then be known and loved overpassing that he is now, in so much he shall be dreaded overpassing that he is now. wherefore it behoveth needs to be that all heaven and earth shall tremble and quake when the pillars shall tremble and quake. [ ] _i.e._ permitted; "all that is good our lord doeth, and that which is evil our lord suffereth," xxxv. chapter lxxvi "the soul that beholdeth the fair nature of our lord jesus, it hateth no hell but sin" i speak but little of reverent dread, for i hope it may be seen in this matter aforesaid. but well i wot our lord shewed me no souls but those that dread him. for well i wot the soul that truly taketh the teaching of the holy ghost, it hateth more sin for vileness and horribleness than it doth all the pain that is in hell. for the soul that beholdeth the fair nature[ ] of our lord jesus, it hateth no hell but sin, as to my sight. and therefore it is god's will that we know sin, and pray busily and travail earnestly and seek teaching meekly that we fall not blindly therein; and if we fall, that we rise readily. for it is the most pain that the soul may have, to turn from god any time by sin. the soul that willeth to be in rest when [an] other man's sin cometh to mind, he shall flee it as the pain of hell, seeking unto god for remedy, for help against it. for the beholding of other man's sins, it maketh as it were a thick mist afore the eyes of the soul, and we cannot, for the time, see the fairness of god, but if we may behold them with contrition with him, with compassion on him, and with holy desire to god for him. for without this it harmeth[ ] and tempesteth and hindereth the soul that beholdeth them. for this i understood in the shewing of compassion. in this blissful shewing of our lord i have understanding of two contrary things: the one is the most wisdom that any creature may do in this life, the other is the most folly. the most wisdom is for a creature to do after the will and counsel of his highest sovereign friend. this blessed friend is jesus, and it is his will and his counsel that we hold us with him, and fasten us to him homely--evermore, in what state soever that we be; for whether-so that we be foul or clean, we are all one in his loving. for weal nor for woe he willeth never we flee from him. but because of the changeability that we are in, in our self, we fall often into sin. then we have this [doubting dread] by the stirring of our enemy and by our own folly and blindness: for they say thus: _thou seest well thou art a wretched creature, a sinner, and also unfaithful. for thou keepest not the command[ ]; thou dost promise oftentimes our lord that thou shalt do better, and anon after, thou fallest again into the same, especially into sloth and losing of time._ (for that is the beginning of sin, as to my sight,--and especially to the creatures that have given them to serve our lord with inward beholding of his blessed goodness.) and this maketh us adread to appear afore our courteous lord. thus is it our enemy that would put us aback[ ] with his false dread, [by reason] of our wretchedness, through pain that he threateth us with. for it is his meaning to make us so heavy and so weary in this, that we should let out of mind the fair, blissful beholding of our everlasting friend. [ ] "kindness." [ ] "noyith." [ ] s. de cressy--"thy covenant." [ ] "on bakke." chapter lxxvii "accuse not thyself overmuch, deeming that thy tribulation and thy woe is all thy fault." "all thy living is penance profitable." "in the remedy he willeth that we rejoice" our good lord shewed the enmity of the fiend: in which shewing i understood that all that is contrary to love and peace is of the fiend and of his part. and we have, of our feebleness and our folly, to fall; and we have, of mercy and grace of the holy ghost, to rise to more joy. and if our enemy aught winneth of us by our falling, (for it is his pleasure,[ ]) he loseth manifold more in our rising by charity and meekness. and this glorious rising, it is to him so great sorrow and pain for the hate that he hath to our soul, that he burneth continually in envy. and all this sorrow that he would make us to have, it shall turn to himself. and for this it was that our lord scorned him, and [it was] this [that] made me mightily to laugh. then is this the remedy, that we be aware of our wretchedness and flee to our lord: for ever the more needy that we be, the more speedful it is to us to draw nigh to him.[ ] and let us say thus in our thinking: _i know well i have a shrewd pain; but our lord is all-mighty and may punish me mightily; and he is all-wisdom and can punish me discerningly; and he is all-goodness and loveth me full tenderly_. and in this beholding it is necessary for us to abide; for it is a lovely meekness of a sinful soul, wrought by mercy and grace of the holy ghost, when we willingly and gladly take the scourge and chastening of our lord that himself will give us. and it shall be full tender and full easy, if that we will only hold us satisfied with him and with all his works. for the penance that man taketh of himself was not shewed me: that is to say, it was not shewed specified. but specially and highly and with full lovely manner of look was it shewed that we shall meekly bear and suffer the penance that god himself giveth us, with mind in his blessed passion. (for when we have mind in his blessed passion, with pity and love, then we suffer with him like as his friends did that saw it. and this was shewed in the thirteenth shewing, near the beginning, where it speaketh of pity.) for he saith: _accuse not [thy]self overdone much, deeming that thy tribulation and thy woe is all for thy fault; for i will not that thou be heavy or sorrowful indiscreetly. for i tell thee, howsoever thou do, thou shalt have woe. and therefore i will that thou wisely know thy penance; and [thou] shalt see in truth that all thy living is penance profitable._ this place is prison and this life is penance, and in the remedy he willeth that we rejoice. the remedy is that our lord is with us, keeping and leading into the fulness of joy. for this is an endless joy to us in our lord's signifying, that he that shall be our bliss when we are there, he is our keeper while we are here. our way and our heaven is true love and sure trust; and of this he gave understanding in all [the shewings] and especially in the shewing of the passion where he made me mightily to choose him for my heaven.[ ] flee we to our lord and we shall be comforted, touch we him and we shall be made clean, cleave we to him and we shall be sure,[ ] and safe from all manner of peril. for our courteous lord willeth that we should be as homely with him as heart may think or soul may desire. but [let us] beware that we take not so recklessly this homeliness as to leave courtesy. for our lord himself is sovereign homeliness, and as homely as he is, so courteous he is: for he is very courteous. and the blessed creatures that shall be in heaven with him without end, he will have them like to himself in all things. and to be like our lord perfectly, it is our very salvation and our full bliss. and if we wot not how we shall do all this, desire we of our lord and he shall teach us: for it is his own good-pleasure and his worship; blessed may he be! [ ] s. de cressy, "likeness"; collins, "business." the word may be "lifenes" = lefness, pleasure; lif = lef = lief = (morris' _specimens of early english_) pleasing, dear. [ ] "neyghen him." [ ] ch. xix. [ ] "sekir." chapter lxxviii "though we be highly lifted up into contemplation by the special gift of our lord, yet it is needful to us to have knowledge and sight of our sin and our feebleness" our lord of his mercy sheweth us our sin and our feebleness by the sweet gracious light of himself; for our sin is so vile and so horrible that he of his courtesy will not shew it to us but by the light of his grace and mercy. of four things therefore it is his will that we have knowing: the first is, that he is our ground from whom we have all our life and our being. the second is, that he keepeth us mightily and mercifully in the time that we are in our sin and among all our enemies, that are full fell upon us; and so much we are in the more peril for [that] we give them occasion thereto, and know not our own need.[ ] the third is, how courteously he keepeth us, and _maketh us to know_ that we go amiss. the fourth is, how steadfastly he abideth us and changeth no regard:[ ] for he willeth that we be turned [again], and oned to him in love as he is to us. and thus by this gracious knowing we may see our sin profitably without despair. for truly we need to see it, and by the sight we shall be made ashamed of our self and brought down as anent our pride and presumption; for it behoveth us verily to see that of ourselves we are right nought but sin and wretchedness. and thus by the sight of the less that our lord sheweth us, the more is reckoned[ ] which we see not. for he of his courtesy measureth the sight to us; for it is so vile and so horrible that we should not endure to see it as it is. and by this meek knowing after this manner, through contrition and grace we shall be broken from all that is not our lord. and then shall our blessed saviour perfectly heal us, and one us to him. this breaking and this healing our lord meaneth for the general man. for he that is highest and nearest with god, he may see himself sinful--and needeth to--with me; and i that am the least and lowest that shall be saved, i may be comforted with him that is highest: so hath our lord oned us in charity; [as] where he shewed me that i should sin.[ ] and for joy that i had in beholding of him i attended not readily to that shewing, and our courteous lord stopped there and would not further teach me till that he gave me grace and will to attend. and hereby was i learned that though we be highly lifted up into contemplation by the special gift of our lord, yet it is needful to us therewith to have knowing and sight of our sin and our feebleness. for without this knowing we may not have true meekness, and without this [meekness] we may not be saved. and afterward, also, i saw that we may not have this knowing from our self; nor from none of all our spiritual enemies: for they will us not so great good. for if it were by their will, we should not see it until our ending day. then be we greatly beholden[ ] to god for that he will himself, for love, shew it to us in time of mercy and grace. [ ] see ch. xxxix. p. . [ ] "chere" = manner of looking on us; mien. [ ] s. de cressy: "wasted," but the indistinct word of the brit. mus. ms. is probably "_castid_," for "cast," or "_casten_" = conjectured. [ ] ch. xxxvii. [ ] _i.e._ in gratitude. chapter lxxix "i was taught that i should see mine own sin, and not other men's sin except it may be for comfort and help of my fellow-christians" (lxxvi.) also i had of this [revelation] more understanding. in that he shewed me that i should sin, i took it nakedly to mine own singular person, for i was none otherwise shewed at that time. but by the high, gracious comfort of our lord that followed after, i saw that his meaning was for the general man: that is to say, all-man; which is sinful and shall be unto the last day. of which man i am a member, as i hope, by the mercy of god. for the blessed comfort that i saw, it is large enough for us all. and here was i learned that i should see mine own sin, and not other men's sins but if it may be for comfort and help of mine even-christians. and also in this same shewing where i saw that i should sin, there was i learned to be in dread for unsureness of myself. for i wot not how i shall fall, nor i know not the measure nor the greatness of sin; for that would i have wist, with dread, and thereto i had none answer. also our courteous lord in the same time he shewed full surely and mightily the endlessness and the unchangeability of his love; and, afterward, that by his great goodness and his grace inwardly keeping, the love of him and our soul shall never be disparted in two, without end.[ ] and thus in this dread i have matter of meekness that saveth me from presumption, and in the blessed shewing of love i have matter of true comfort and of joy that saveth me from despair. all this homely shewing of our courteous lord, it is a lovely lesson and a sweet, gracious teaching of himself in comforting of our soul. for he willeth that we [should] know by the sweetness and homely loving of him, that all that we see or feel, within or without, that is contrary to this is of the enemy and not of god. and thus;--if we be stirred to be the more reckless of our living or of the keeping of our hearts because that we have knowing of this plenteous love, then need we greatly to beware. for this stirring, if it come, is untrue; and greatly we ought to hate it, for it all hath no likeness of god's will. and when that we be fallen, by frailty or blindness, then our courteous lord toucheth us and stirreth us and calleth us; and then willeth he that we see our wretchedness and meekly be aware of it.[ ] but he willeth not that we abide thus, nor he willeth not that we busy us greatly about our accusing, nor he willeth not that we be wretched over our self;[ ] but he willeth that we hastily turn ourselves unto him. for he standeth all aloof and abideth us sorrowfully and mournfully till when we come, and hath haste to have us to him. for we are his joy and his delight, and he is our salve and our life. when i say he standeth all alone, i leave the speaking of the blessed company of heaven, and speak of his office and his working here on earth,--upon the condition of the shewing. [ ] see xxxvii., xl., xlviii., lxi., lxxxii. [ ] "ben it aknowen." s. de cressy, "be it a knowen." [ ] ms. "wretchful of our selfe." s. de cressy, "wretchful on our self." chapter lxxx "himself is nearest and meekest, highest and lowest, and doeth all." "love suffereth never to be without pity" by three things man standeth in this life; by which three god is worshipped, and we be speeded,[ ] kept and saved. the first is, use of man's reason natural; the second is, common teaching of holy church; the third is, inward gracious working of the holy ghost. and these three be all of one god: god is the ground of our natural reason; and god, the teaching of holy church; and god is the holy ghost. and all be sundry gifts to which he willeth that we have great regard, and attend us thereto. for these work in us continually all together; and these be great things. of which great things he willeth that we have knowing here as it were in an a.b.c., that is to say, that we have a little knowing; whereof we shall have fulness in heaven. and that is for to speed us. we know in our faith that god alone took our nature, and none but he; and furthermore that christ alone did all the works that belong to our salvation, and none but he; and right so he alone doeth now the last end: that is to say, he dwelleth here with us, and ruleth us and governeth us in this living, and bringeth us to his bliss. and this shall he do as long as any soul is in earth that shall come to heaven,--and so far forth that if there were no such soul but one, he should be withal alone till he had brought him up to his bliss. i believe and understand the ministration of angels, as clerks tell us: but it was not shewed me. for himself is nearest and meekest, highest and lowest, and doeth all. and not only all that we need, but also he doeth all that is worshipful, to our joy in heaven. and where i say that he abideth sorrowfully and moaning, it meaneth all the true feeling that _we_ have in our self, in contrition and compassion, and all sorrowing and moaning that we are not oned with our lord. and all such that is speedful, it is christ in us. and though some of us feel it seldom, it passeth never from christ till what time he hath brought us out of all our woe. for love suffereth never to be without pity. and what time that we fall into sin and leave the mind of him and the keeping of our own soul, then keepeth christ alone all the charge; and thus standeth he sorrowfully and moaning. then belongeth it to us for reverence and kindness to turn us hastily to our lord and leave him not alone. he is here alone with us all: that is to say, only for us he is here. and what time i am strange to him by sin, despair or sloth, then i let my lord stand alone, in as much as it is in me. and thus it fareth with us all which be sinners. but though it be so that we do thus oftentimes, his goodness suffereth us never to be alone, but lastingly he is with us, and tenderly he excuseth us, and ever shieldeth us from blame in his sight. [ ] _i.e._ helped onwards. chapter lxxxi "god seeth all our living a penance: for nature-longing of our love is to him a lasting penance in us." "his love maketh him to long" our good lord shewed himself in diverse manners both in heaven and in earth, but i saw him take no place save in man's soul. he shewed himself in earth in the sweet incarnation and in his blessed passion. and in other manner he shewed himself in earth [as in the revelation] where i say: _i saw god in a point_.[ ] and in another manner he shewed himself in earth thus as it were in pilgrimage: that is to say, he is here with us, leading us, and shall be till when he hath brought us all to his bliss in heaven. he shewed himself diverse times reigning, as it is aforesaid; but principally in man's soul. he hath taken there his resting-place and his worshipful city: out of which worshipful see he shall never rise nor remove without end. marvellous and stately[ ] is the place where the lord dwelleth, and therefore he willeth that we readily answer to[ ] his gracious touching, more rejoicing in his whole love than sorrowing in our often fallings. for it is the most worship to him of anything that we may do, that we live gladly and merrily, for his love, in our penance. for he beholdeth us so tenderly that he seeth all our living [here] a penance: for nature's longing in us is to him aye-lasting penance in us[ ]: which penance he worketh in us and mercifully he helpeth us to bear it. for his love maketh _him_ to long [for us]; his wisdom and his truth with his rightfulness maketh _him_ to suffer us [to be] here: and in this same manner [of longing and abiding] he willeth to see it in us. for this is our natural penance,--and the highest, as to my sight. for this penance goeth[ ] never from us till what time that we be fulfilled, when we shall have him to our meed. and therefore he willeth that we set our hearts in the overpassing[ ]: that is to say, from the pain that we feel into the bliss that we trust. [ ] ch. xi. [ ] "solemne." [ ] "entenden to" = turn our attention, respond to. [ ] or, at in s. de cressy, "for kind longing in us to him is a lasting penance in us." [ ] "cometh." [ ] the exceeding bliss. "our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."-- cor. iv. . chapter lxxxii "in falling and in rising we are ever preciously kept in one love" but here shewed our courteous lord the moaning and the mourning of the soul, signifying thus: _i know well thou wilt live for my love, joyously and gladly suffering all the penance that may come to thee; but in as much as thou livest not without sin thou wouldest suffer, for my love, all the woe, all the tribulation and distress that might come to thee. and it is sooth.[ ] but be not greatly aggrieved with sin that falleth to thee against thy will._ and here i understood that [which was shewed] that the lord beholdeth the servant with pity and not with blame.[ ] for this passing life asketh[ ] not to live all without blame and sin. he loveth us endlessly, and we sin customably, and he sheweth us full mildly, and then we sorrow and mourn discreetly, turning us unto the beholding of his mercy, cleaving to his love and goodness, seeing that he is our medicine, perceiving that we do nought but sin. and thus by the meekness we get by the sight of our sin, faithfully knowing his everlasting love, him thanking and praising, we please him:--_i love thee, and thou lovest me, and our love shall not be disparted in two: for thy profit i suffer [these things to come]._ and all this was shewed in spiritual understanding, saying these blessed words: _i keep thee full surely_. and by the great desire that i saw in our blessed lord that we shall live in this manner,--that is to say, in longing and enjoying, as all this lesson of love sheweth,--thereby i understood that that which is contrarious to us is not of him but of enmity; and he willeth that we know it by the sweet gracious light of his kind love. if any such lover be in earth which is continually kept from falling, i know it not: for it was not shewed me. but this was shewed: that in falling and in rising we are ever preciously kept in one love. for in the beholding of god we fall not, and in the beholding of self we stand not; and both these [manners of beholding] be sooth as to my sight. but the beholding of our lord god is the highest soothness.[ ] then are we greatly bound to god[ ] [for] that he willeth in this living to shew us this high soothness. and i understood that while we be in this life it is full speedful to us that we see both these at once. for the higher beholding keepeth us in spiritual solace and true enjoying in god; [and] that other that is the lower beholding keepeth us in dread and maketh us ashamed of ourself. but our good lord willeth ever that we hold us much more in the beholding of the higher, and [yet] leave not the knowing of the lower, unto the time that we be brought up above, where we shall have our lord jesus unto our meed and be fulfilled of joy and bliss without end. [ ] _i.e._ truth. see xxvii., "it is sooth that sin it cause of all this pain." [ ] ch. li. [ ] _i.e._ "demandeth not that we live." [ ] sooth, soothness: _i.e._ truth, trueness. "both these ben soth, as to my syte. but the beholdyng of our lord god is the heyest sothnes." see chaps. xlv., liii., etc., the two "deemings": the beholding by god of the higher self and the beholding by man of the lower self. [ ] in gratitude, obligation. chapter lxxxiii "life, love, and light" i had, in part, touching, sight, and feeling in three properties of god, in which the strength and effect of all the revelation standeth: and they were seen in every shewing, and most properly in the twelfth, where it saith oftentimes: [_it is i._] the properties are these: life, love, and light.[ ] in life is marvellous homeliness, and in love is gentle courtesy, and in light is endless nature-hood. these properties were in one goodness: unto which goodness my reason would be oned, and cleave to it with all its might. i beheld with reverent dread, and highly marvelling in the sight and in the feeling of the sweet accord, that our reason is in god; understanding that it is the highest gift that we have received; and it is grounded in nature. our faith is a light by nature coming of our endless day, that is our father, god. in which light our mother, christ, and our good lord, the holy ghost, leadeth us in this passing life. this light is measured discreetly, needfully standing to us in the night. the light is cause of our life; the night is cause of our pain and of all our woe: in which we earn meed and thanks of god. for we, with mercy and grace, steadfastly know and believe our light, going therein wisely and mightily. and at the end of woe, suddenly our eyes shall be opened, and in clearness of light our sight shall be full: which light is god, our maker and holy ghost, in christ jesus our saviour. thus i saw and understood that our faith is our light in our night: which light is god, our endless day. [ ] _cf._ chs. lxxxv. and lxxxvi. these words might be (as life, light, and love) for the trinity of _might_ ("the father willeth"), _wisdom_ ("the son worketh"), _love_ ("the holy ghost confirmeth"): _one goodness_: or as it is sometimes denoted, the trinity of _might, wisdom, goodness: one love_. but here the thought seems to be centred in _light_ as the manifestation of being (of _kyndhede_ = relationships, correspondences of nature): of the triune divine light which in man is corresponding reason, faith, charity: charity keeping man, while here, in faith and hope; charity leading him from and through and into the eternal divine love. chapter lxxxiv "charity" the light is charity, and the measuring of this light is done to us profitably by the wisdom of god. for neither is the light so large that we may see our blissful day, nor is it shut from us; but it is such a light in which we may live meedfully, with travail deserving[ ] the endless worship of god. and this was seen in the sixth shewing where he said: _i thank thee of thy service and of thy travail_. thus charity keepeth us in faith and hope, and hope leadeth us in charity. and in the end all shall be charity. i had three manners of understanding of this light, charity. the first is charity unmade; the second is charity made; the third is charity given. charity unmade is god; charity made is our soul in god; charity given is virtue. and that is a precious gift of working in which we love god, for himself; and ourselves, in god; and that which god loveth, for god. [ ] _i.e._ earning the endless praise. chapter lxxxv "lord, blessed mayest thou be, for it is thus: it is well" and in this sight i marvelled highly. for notwithstanding our simple living and our blindness here, yet endlessly our courteous lord beholdeth us in this working, rejoicing; and of all things, we may please him best wisely and truly to believe, and to enjoy with him and in him. for as verily as we shall be in the bliss of god without end, him praising and thanking, so verily we have been in the foresight of god, loved and known in his endless purpose from without beginning. in which unbegun love he made us; and in the same love he keepeth us and never suffereth us to be hurt [in manner] by which our bliss might be lost. and therefore when the doom is given and we be all brought up above, then shall we clearly see in god the secret things which be now hid to us. then shall none of us be stirred to say in any wise: _lord, if it had been thus, then it had been full well_; but we shall say all with one voice: _lord, blessed mayst thou be, for it is thus: it is well; and now see we verily that all-thing is done as it was then ordained before that anything was made._ chapter lxxxvi "love was our lord's meaning" this book is begun by god's gift and his grace, but it is not yet performed, as to my sight. for charity pray we all; [together] with _god's_ working, thanking, trusting, enjoying. for thus will our good lord be prayed to, as by the understanding that i took of all his own meaning and of the sweet words where he saith full merrily: _i am the ground of thy beseeching_. for truly i saw and understood in our lord's meaning that he shewed it for that he willeth to have it known more than it is: in which knowing he will give us grace to love to him and cleave to him. for he beholdeth his heavenly treasure with so great love on earth that he willeth to give us more light and solace in heavenly joy, in drawing to him of our hearts, for sorrow and darkness[ ] which we are in. and from that time that it was shewed i desired oftentimes to learn[ ] what was our lord's meaning. and fifteen years after, and more, i was answered in ghostly understanding, saying thus: _wouldst thou learn[ ] thy lord's meaning in this thing? learn it well: love was his meaning. who shewed it thee? love. what shewed he thee? love. wherefore shewed it he? for love. hold thee therein and thou shalt learn and know more in the same. but thou shalt never know nor learn therein other thing without end._ thus was i learned[ ] that love was our lord's meaning. and i saw full surely that ere god made us he loved us; which love was never slacked, nor ever shall be. and in this love he hath done all his works; and in this love he hath made all things profitable to us; and in this love our life is everlasting. in our making we had beginning; but the love wherein he made us was in him from without beginning: in which love we have our beginning. and all this shall we see in god, without end. [ ] "merkness" = dimness. [ ] "witten" = to see clearly. [ ] "witten" = to see clearly. [ ] "lerid." postscript by a scribe [the sloane ms. is entitled "revelations to one who could not read a letter, anno dom. ," and each chapter is headed by a few lines denoting its contents. these titles are in language similar to that of the text, and are probably the work of an early scribe. no doubt it is the same scribe who after the last sentence of the book adds the aspiration:] _which jesus mot grant us_ _amen._ [and to him also may be assigned this conclusion:--] thus endeth the revelation of love of the blissid trinite shewid by our savior christ jesu for our endles comfort and solace and also to enjoyen in him in this passand journey of this life. _amen jesu amen_ i pray almyty god that this booke com not but to the hands of them that will be his faithfull lovers, and to those that will submitt them to the faith of holy church, and obey the holesom understondying and teching of the men that be of vertuous life, sadde age and sound lering: ffor this revelation is hey divinitye and hey wisdom, wherfore it may not dwelle with him that is thrall to synne and to the devill. and beware thou take not on thing after thy affection and liking, and leve another: for that is the condition of an heretique. but take every thing with other. and, trewly understonden, all is according to holy scripture and groundid in the same. and _that_ jesus, our very love, light and truth, shall shew to all clen soulis that with mekeness aske profe reverently this wisdom of hym. and thou to whom this boke shall come, thank heyley and hertily our saviour christ jesu that he made these shewings and revelations, for the, and to the, of his endles love, mercy and goodnes for thine and our save guide, to conduct to everlastying bliss: _the which jesus mot grant us._ amen. glossary _adight_ = prepared, ordained. _adventure_ = chance, hazard. _after_ = according to. _all thing_ = with the verb singular--kept here chiefly to express _all_, the _whole_ of things related to each other, though often, as in the original, meaning simply _every, each_. in early and middle english _thing_ had no _s_ in the plural. _and_ had sometimes the force of _but_, and once or twice in the ms. it is used in its sense of _if_, or of _and though_, or _and when_. _asseth, asyeth, asyeth-making_ = satisfaction; fulfilment (theologically used). _asketh_ = requireth, demandeth. _avisement_ = consideration; observation with self-consulting. _beclosed_ = enclosed. _behest_ = promise: a thing proclaimed; afterwards, command. _behold in_ = behold. _beholding_ = manner of regarding things. _belongeth to, behoveth_ = is incumbent, befitteth. _blissful_ = used sometimes as _blessed_. _bodily_ = perceived by any of the bodily senses, effected by material agency. _braste_ = burst. _busyness_ = the state of being busy; _great busyness_ = much ado. _but if_ = unless, save. _cause_ = reason, end, object. _cheer_ = expression of countenance shewing sorrow or gladness; mien. _close_ = shut away; hid, or partially hid. _come from_ = go from. _common: the blessed common_ = the christian community. _contrarious_ = perverse. various other forms are used from to _contrary_, to oppose. _could_ and _can_ refer to knowledge and practical skill, ability. _courteous_ = gently considerate and fair; reverentially ceremonious; gracious. _deadly_ = mortal. _dearworthy_ = precious; beloved and honoured. _depart_ = dispart, part. _deserve_ = earn. _disease_ = distress, trouble, want of case. _doom, deeming_ = judgment. _doomsman_ = priestly confessor. _enjoy in_ = enjoy; rejoice in. _entend_ = attend. _enter_ = to lead in. _even_ = equal; _even-like; even-right_ = straight, straight-facing. _even-christian_ (_even-cristen_, sing. or pl.) = fellow-christian. _hamlet_ v. i., "and the more the pity that great folk have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even christian." _faithfully_ = trustfully. _for that_ = because. _fulfilled of_ = filled full with. _fulfilling_ = fulfilment, perfect bliss. _garland_ = crown. _generally_ = relating to things or people in general, not "in special." _grante mercy_ = ("grand merci") great thanks. _have to_ = betake one's self to. _hastily_ = quickly, soon. _homely_ = intimate, simple, as of one at home. _honest_ = fair, seemly. _if_ = that (chap. xxxii., "thou shalt see--if all--shall be well" acts xxvi. ). _impropriated (impropried) to_ = appropriated to. _indifferent_ (to thy sight, chap. li.) = indistinct. _intellect_ = understanding, that which is to be understood, inference. xiii. _intent_ = attention. _kind_ = nature, race, birth, species; natural, etc.; _kindly_ = as by birth and kinship, natural, filial, gentle, genial, human and humane. _known_ = made known. _languor_ = to languish. _learn_ = teach. _let_, "_letten_" = hinder (letted). _like (it liketh him, meliketh)_ = to suit, be similar to the desire, to be pleasing (amos iv. ). _liking_ = pleasure, pleasance. _likeness_ ("without any likeness") = comparison. _may, might,_ often for _can_ and _could_ of modern usage. _mean_ = to think, say, signify, intend; to have in one's mind. _mean, means_ = medium, intermediary thing, or person, or communication. _mind_ = feeling, memory, sympathetic perception or realisation. _mischief_ = hurt, injury, harm. _mights_ = powers, faculties. _morrow_ = morning. _moaning_ = sorrowing. _naked_ = simple, single, plain, by itself. _needs_ = of need; it _behoveth needs_ = is incumbent through necessity. _oweth_ = ought, is bound by duty or debt. _one_ (oned, oneing) = to make one, unite. _over_ = upper. _overpassing_ = exceeding; the _overpassing_ = the restoration, the heavenly fulfilment of the company of souls made _more_ than conquerors; the supernal blessedness. _pass_ = to die. _passing_ = surpassingly. _regard, in regard of_ = in respect of, comparison with. _regard_ = look, sight. _ready_ = prepared; _readily_ = quickly. _sad_ = sober ("sad votaress," milton, _comus_), originally "firm" ("rype and sad corage," chaucer: _the clerkes tale_, ). _say_ = tell. _skilfully_ = discerningly, with practical knowledge and ability. _slade_ = a steep, hollow place; a ravine. _so far forth_ = to such a measure. _solemn_ = festal, as of a yearly feast, stately, ceremonial. _sooth_ = very reality, that which _is; soothly, soothfastly_. _speed_ = prospering, furtherance, profit. _stint_ ("stinten") = to cease. _stirring_ ("stering") = moving, prompting, motion. _substantial_ and _sensual_, relating respectively (in the writer's psychology) to the _substance_ or higher self, and the soul inhabiting the body on earth, called by her the _sensualite_, and in chap. lvii. _the sensual soul; cf._ genesis i. , with ii. . _tarry_ = to vex, delay. _touch_ (a) = an instant. _touching_ = influence. _trow_ = believe. _unknowing_ = ignorance; _unmade_ = not made. _ween_ = suppose, expect, think. _will; he will_ = he willeth that. _wilfully_ = with firm will, resolutely. _wit_ to know by perception, to experience, find, learn. knowledge knows: _wisdom wits_. _worship_ = honour, praise, glory. _wretch_ = a poor, a mean creature of no account. [the end.]